First Five Times

1. My first kiss happened in the local dug-out. I kept my eyes and mouth completely open, all the while thinking "Something isn't right." And it might have also been the fact that I was sitting on an empty SKOAL tin, lying about my age (I'm not fourteen!!!!), and just have a general state of social disability where my intrinsic awkwardness cannot be squelched by any amount of eye-liner.

2. My second kiss was at a friend of a friend's house, in her younger brothers race-car bed. I had had a crush on my family friend. We had attended preschool together. The tufts of peachy fur in his armpits were the first I saw in fifth grade, and I think it blew some sort of estrogen dam welled up inside my heart. My mutual friend promised to finally wrestle the object of my affection into dating me, but she did it by bellowing "If you two don't make out right now, I'm going to throw up." Romance.

3. At a party, his party. Distinct memory of being hell-bent on wearing a deep olive wifebeater because I thought I would look like a cool hippy. Another distinct memory of vigorously googling the discography of Jimi Hendrix prior to the party, to aid the cool factor. This is the first time I'm making out in a bed, I thought, like, seven times over. I kept an eye on his alarm clock as he tried unweave my bra off me. Eventually I had to contort myself out of my tank top to readjust myself. I went home and watched Disney channel after.

4. The basement of a church during an indie-concert. The lightness of being inebriated was so novel to me I guess the first idea that comes to mind is drag a boy who fancies you to the back of the venue and stick your tongue in his mouth. "If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this now," I triumphed, before grabbing his jaw. Smoke and beer and youthful disillusionment. "Ok, it's 11, let's go home."

5. Flipping through a National Geographic after a DIY wine-tasting at my friend's place, I was super smitten by her ex, he leaned in to kiss me after I told him my aspirations to be a blogger (ineffable). We had spent the day wandering around a park we frequented in the summer talking concerts and mutual acquaintances, lending good background knowledge to the character. But I sort of already knew him. We tasted like wine and sleepiness.

On Writing

I am a horrible writer. I didn't realize this until about an hour ago, so I'm feeling particularly dismal.

My precious "personal edification" of writing skills that I teethed on throughout sophomore year must have leaked on to the linoleum hallways one day while I was wrapped up in high-school emotions and a janitor must have mopped it up while my back was turned.

My grand ineptitude is officially not limited to the subjects of history or french, making it actually a GRAND INEPTITUDE. I ought to tattoo the phrase "disadvantage: unable to funcation" on my forearm just to alert whoever is within a yard of me.

**Sigh**
Being an International Baccalaureate student means that not only do you have to metaphorically kiss-ass by not sleeping in class and wearing cardigans everyday, it also means you have to do real work. Essays nd shit. There probably hasn't been a succinct definition of the word "wastiod" since 90's MTV, but I fit the link.
~

My life hasn't been manic-depression sucking lately. I haven't been sleeping more than eight hours a day, and I saw three people who make me uncomfortable and my stomach did only a half-flip.

The Ignore Effect

Photo by Joshua D White

Recently, I've decided to sever my friends who are actually not my friends from my life. It's like bonsai-trimming of the soul.



This morning, my friend chauffeured me to visit my ailing ex-boyfriend at his house before he ships himself back to college. I don't really know why we made the trip (because all we did was talk about track for fifteen minutes), but on the way home we went into a deep analysis on why it's semi-impossible not to dick people over on a relatively normal basis.

"Like, even if you don't fuck anyone over, for, like, a whole week; you're still going to get fucked over. You'll probably get fucked over harder because you're being so nice."

"True. I hate it. I hate everyone. We're all double-faced facades who suck. At least pretty people get have something going for them. All us normal people are normal and cruel. It's glamorous to be pretty and cruel."

I think most of my suspicions and distrust is based on ostensible facts my anti-friends or so-called-friends gesture towards. I'm on the epic quest to squelch the paranoia and dread I get from said rumors (ex: Yeah, I don't think she really likes you; she was at that party and did this thing; etc, etc), so I must take my sheers and clip the unruly limbs.

It's a difficult yet satisfying process to watch people whom you're fully exiling from your life blindly fall into the rabbit hole that is your rejection. But I'm almost 18 and can't handle myself, let alone kids who are belligerently inducing my anxieties + don't make me laugh.

Moral: life would be easier if you were pretty because you can do just about whatever you like.

Being a Feminist And a Feminisnt

If a guy ever punched me I'd so hit him back.
But really? Maybe.

I'm writing my extended essay and internal assessment on feminism. The problem is I'm the most conservative combat-boot clad girl I know.

I don't believe in holding doors, playing guitar, or paying for food. Don't get me wrong, I don't in any way practice what I preach, I'm just into chivalry and peter pan collars.

Is that not Generation-Z? Do I have to succumb to wearing hot pink bras to get attentions of boys who will treat me like a Barbie? How come men never know where they want to eat? Why are you listening to Drake and Jason Derulo and talking about how "angsty" the Ramones are (of all bands... really)? Why is your favorite movie Zach and Miri Make a Porno, while I frequently quote Dawn of the Dead? Where have all the men-men gone?

I find solace in the fact that 17 year olds do eventually mature and stop wearing neon Nikes with lacrosse socks and snapbacks, but how come misogynistic masochists gotta dress like hooligans?

WHY CAN'T DECENCY AND ALPHA-NESS BE MEASURED ON THE SAME AXIS?

Why am I disparaging the girls from Valley of the Dolls for being thrown into seedy situations? I want to be like Neely.

Photographs from Amsterdamn, the Hague, The Netherlands, Europe, Earth

The pursuit of happy

Recently I've been balancing out my social life between marathons of anything on HBO and trying to flirt with boys.

Today I sent a guy a text that read "Today I met someone who has had a phobia of bugs for ten years". I'm such a fucking great conversationalist it kills me.

(It wasn't even true I met said character two days ago, his name is JR and he likes watching Comedy Central and talking about the politics behind South Park and Family Guy - the only time I chimed in was to proclaim "Liberals are noisy" but I can't differentiate between a socialist and a liberal.)

I'm so prone to crushing on all the wrong guys.

Cliche lady No. 5243589 "I'm an asshole magnet". The guys I talk to aren't even assholes they just always have to have something that hinders any type of decent future.

My last boytoy dropped out of community college, poured bleach down an ice cream machine to get out of work early (thrice), and is currently saving his minimum wage for a tattoo sleeve of Vans logos. The only lingering wisdom he left me with was "Don't think you're cooler than anyone else because you listen to Pains of Being Pure at Heart".

No, I think I'm cool because I lost my virginity to them, duh.

Innocence

"This is high school, every is going through a hard time," this is my friend who earlier today texted me about how her mom walked in on her and her "boyfriend". She's hysterical, to put it lightly, and insane, if we're being honest. I enjoy her company, though, and she preaches the truth.

"We're all changing," she continues, "and, like, growing up and shit."

I take a moment to reflect on my growing up. I think I lost my innocence when someone said "Hey baby you look cute as shit" to me in a Neopets message. I don't really know. It was the first coffee stain on my immaculate white church dress that was my life prior. I've taken really big strides since then. It's a lot easier to grow up than to grow down, I've realized.

Complaining 101 No. 2

Art by Francisca Pageo

In the gulf of my school's library, where I remained until I thought I’d died, I contemplated the common teen plight of virtues, love, abandonment and why when I paint my nails my cuticles always get in the way.

To be fair, I’m heartbroken, like, eighty-seven percent of the time. Heartbreak catalysts aren’t limited to common male rejection. I get downhearted over mp3’s that won’t download and holes in my leggings; it’s all something to shed tears about.

Recently, a boy who I kissed twice was caught holding hands with another lady and I immediately sent the text, “I belong in a brothel and I will never be loved” to seven of my friends.

My favorite reply was “Yo, he’s gay tho.”

God, I have the best friends.

I hate being a girl because I’m just intrinsically stupid and desperate.

Save me some hot water

Comic by Jane Mai


Being a teenage girl is the worst position God can put you in.

I say this because I think God is doing this thing where he answers my prayers in some vague gesture of sorting out something I considered irreparable (but in week he'll take it back and say, "you just pay your soul to continue this trial").

No, I didn't go to any parties this weekend.

Yes, I am overtired and under-rested and ugh fucking Monday.

Despite my plight of being a teen things are looking up????

What It Must Be Like To Be Alexa Chung

A lot of the time, my peers think its so novel that I talk about how much I want to pursue a guy so cavalierly. But, 98.6% of the time, it's out of sheer desperation and lack of dignity. Sexual confidence is so far out of my realm of life that I'm pretty sure four out of ten times I initiate something with a guy it's more like, "wait.. whoa.. hey... stay still.. stop talking" instead of any form of casual flirtatiousness and poise.

If I was Alexa Chung I would say things like this and still be ringingly hot:

1. I guess I should take a shower.
2. I think I'm going to stop wearing make-up for the year.
3. Yeah, I think I'm better educated than Lana Del Rey, too.
4. I'm going to Paris for the weekend to be gay! Don't text me.
5. I'm going to blog about how awful you are.

Ok, I systematically say 5. Whatever.

Model Crush: Felice Fawn

Felice Fawn is a model, actress, anorexic, teen witch from Britian whom I adore because she stuck it too Terry Richardson (aka Scumbag 3000). (To read more about that click here)

Her favorite breakfast is English full and her ideal coworker would be Jim Carey.

Atom And His Package E-Interview!

Sorry for the God-awful posts recently, I need to step up my blogging game (as per usual). My penchant for punk has been winding down but I stumbled across a few questions I had for Adam Goren of Atom and His Package and here they are!!!

This is a Philly-based band that was hot and happening a decade ago (to be precise; 1997-2003).
He now teaches in a private school ten minutes from my house.

1. Sum up the ultimate "punk rock girl" that you imagine in your dreams

One Saturday I took a walk to Zipperhead
I met a girl there
And she almost knocked me dead
Punk rock girl please look at me
Punk rock girl what do you see?
Let's travel round the world
Just you and me punk rock girl

I tapped her on the shoulder
And said do you have a beau?
She looked at me and smiled
And said she did not know
Punk rock girl give me a chance
Punk rock girl let's go slamdance
We'll dress like Minnie Pearl
Just you and me punk rock girl

We went to the Phillie Pizza Company
And ordered some hot tea
The waitress said "Well no
We only have it iced"
So we jumped up on the table
And shouted "anarchy"
And someone played a Beach Boys song
On the jukebox
It was "California Dreamin'"
So we started screamin'
"On such a winter's day"

She took me to her parents
For a Sunday meal
Her father took one look at me
And he began to squeal
Punk rock girl it makes no sense
Punk rock girl your dad is the Vice President
Rich as the Duke of Earl
Yeah you're for me punk rock girl

We went to a shopping mall
And laughed at all the shoppers
And security guards trailed us
To a record shop
We asked for Mojo Nixon
They said "He don't work here"
We said "If you don't got Mojo Nixon
Then your store could use some fixin'"

We got into a car
Away we started rollin'
I said "How much you pay for this?"
She said "Nothing man, it's stolen"
Punk rock girl you look so wild
Punk rock girl let's have a child
We'll name her Minnie Pearl
Just you and me
Eating fudge banana swirl
Just you and me
We'll travel round the world
Just you and me punk rock girl

2. What has been the most wild concert experience (attending or preforming) you have ever been through?

Karp!  Philly in like 1997?

3. How's life hanging nowadays?

Life hangs well - I'm double dadding and teaching high school physics and chemistry - fun. 
Thanks for your interest. 
Take care!

Yudi Ela Photography

Here's her blawg: http://lasadgirl.helloyudi.com/

Found her while sifting through some facebook fanpages for photographers. She's the best!!!