I walked up a set of stairs and into the doctor’s office that looked more suited to treat broken surfboard leashes than patients. Everything about the décor drew inspiration from the Pacific.
You want to be able to look back on it fondly and visit it often, but at least at this point in your life, you don’t want it to define you — and it does. The fact that you’re still there means you missed out on something, and no one knows that better than you do.
You can’t survive in the modern world without some basic texting comprehension skills. In fact, they should really start offering it as a major at some liberal arts college. At the very least, you could take what you’ve learned and just make videos like the one I did below.
This song is so infectious, it melts even the coldest of hearts. (Read: Bloggers.) Are you in a fight with someone? Sit down in a room together and play this song. I bet that by the end of it, you will be jumping up and down holding hands and singing along.
You’re going to feel like the air suddenly has more oxygen, I don’t know; something is going to kick your blood into coursing and you’ll feel very almost painfully awake. You’re going to start seeing things differently.
You have absolutely no school spirit. You’re pretty sure your school’s colors are a light color and a dark color, but you can remember which ones. You also think your school’s mascot is a half-man, half-goat with black eyes that tells you to burn things, but, then again, you haven’t slept for days because you have five finals next week. Maybe you should go take a nap or something.
Commitment to family isn’t demonstrated by blindly opening your emotions, health, and time to individuals whose commitment to you was genetically determined. The beauty of family is when people make a choice to honor each other’s physical and emotional health.
For the sake of authenticity, television shows should have characters who aren’t busy spewing dialogue, utilizing their iPhones and Droids regularly.
Similar to the Taylor Swift school of “you’re only as good as your totally awesome virginity,” there exists this theory in rom coms that women are essentially passive ducks waiting to be tossed a few decent-sized bread crumbs (in the form of romantic attention).
Thank you for always being closest to me even when we were in separate time zones and separate stages of life. Thank you for not letting us get split by dumb facts like distance or time.
You convince yourself you’re not giving up, just putting it on hold, and that this is the mature thing to do. You are proud of yourself for being so wise, so patient.
No one likes a flake — and no one wants to try and hang out with one, because that usually results in hanging out alone. But I’m a flake, at my core. A closet flake.
They don’t respect your time. Right NOW is the opportune moment for that tedious task/remodeling project/huge argument, damn it, screw your econ exam or flight that leaves in two hours.
You make your coffee so strong no one else will drink it and other people will actually beg you not to make coffee.
They don’t tell you that one day you will break down and cry, not just cry, but really and truly red-face runny-nose sob in the middle of the Nordstrom shoe department because you saw someone her height, with her hair color, wearing her Hermes perfume and when you realized it wasn’t her, after having that flash of “oh there she is!,” it was just too much.
You won’t seem desperate! And even if you do, who cares? This person is obviously not the one for you if they can’t handle a punctual text. COULD YOU REALLY HAVE A BABY WITH SOMEONE WHO CAN’T DEAL WITH SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS AN ON-TIME TEXT?
If you can’t make it to something, be honest and say why. I’d rather hear someone be honest and say “I hate that place,” or “I have no money,” than “Can’t — sorry!”
