barelylivinblog

[barelylivinblog]

How I Ate My Weight in Pineapple Upside Down Cake on a Boat and many more in:  “On Cruising” written by Liv Mitchell, illustrations by the nasty things that escaped my body afterwards.

About a year ago, I swore up and down that I would never get on a cruise ship because that was too claustrophobic for someone like me. 

On January 12th, I got out of my first Uber to Tampa’s cruise line port where I boarded The Brilliance of The Seas, a Royal Caribbean boat, and one the largest boats I had ever seen. I truly thought that there was no way this thing was floating in the water.

This trip only happened because I am fortune enough to have a wonderful boyfriend who has wonderful parents who surprised us with a five night cruise to the Cayman Islands and Cozumel. Take note that the weekend before I had taken my first trip to Canada -- that’s three countries in two weeks. 

Upon boarding the ship, it was overwhelming with how much there was inside this massive metal machine. Two pools, a casino, three restaurants, a dining room, buffet, theater, basketball court, rock climbing wall, club, bar, dance floor, etc, etc. It didn’t feel real and our clouded minds wandered around the ship in silence as we took in our new home for the week.

I’ll tell you that the greatest advantage to cruising is that you’re traveling without feeling like you’re going anywhere. We were at sea for an entire day, and although we could have flown down the Cayman Islands in probably less than six hours, it was much less stressful to be able to do things while we were traveling to our destination. Our suitcases never had to be unpacked and repacked up, food was never an issue, and the cruise ship made a strong attempt to keep guests busy. It was an experience within itself. 

Which leads me to the greatest disadvantage to cruising: being the age of 18-25. I will say that there is plenty to do on the boat, but 95% of the activities hosted are guided towards children and older adults. There were crafts for children, and 70′s music on the dance floor. It became noticeable that my boyfriend and I were struggling to find things to do, which gave us a sense of panic.. That’s ironic, almost silly, to say, but planning out your day on a cruise ship creates this feeling that you HAVE to be doing something or else. If you wanted to relax without having anyone around, you either had to sit out in the boiling sun on one of the side decks, or sit in your small room.  

However, we did find things to do. It opened our minds to doing things we might not have chosen if we had our freedom to walk off the ship, but none the less everything that we went to was entertaining and pretty damn good for being on a boat. For example, we saw a Broad Way type show one night that impressed both of us. For being on a boat, the show really put forth its best efforts. I applaud the dancers for depending on their balance, jumping around in stilettos, while we were feeling the boat move in our seats. We also saw a magic show that was hilarious, which assures me that all the entertainment was well organized.

The best part, however, was the food. I think as the week went on the amount of food we were consuming was slowly killing us. No matter where you are or what time of the day it is, there is always delicious food. I could get pineapple upside down cake at three in the morning and no one would blink an eye. In fact, I ate so much dessert that I was getting tired of it. Every lunch there was a large buffet filled with a variety of foods and dinner was a three course meal that was absolutely to die for. I looked forward to dinner every night because it became a nice family moment for us to sit back and reflect upon the day and catch up.

Destination wise, my boyfriend and I agreed that once you see one of the Caribbean islands, you’ve pretty much seen them all. The Cayman Islands were disappointing in my opinion, just because the island didn’t really feel like an island to me. I came into all of this having no expectations and a very open mind, but with island in the title I expected more than a shopping district. I believe this has to do with perspective. We were ferried in on the port side of the island where all the industrial buildings and operations were. We could only stay on that side because if you wanted to go to the beach you had to take a forty-five minute taxi ride. So, maybe the island is beautiful somewhere, but from what I saw it was the same gift shop with a different name and logo side by side for blocks of street. The benefit of that island was that I got WiFi for a minute, and I watched some woman become way too excited about these big fish that were at the shoreline of the water. I also became very thankful that I get to live in such a privileged country. Oh, and I saw some chickens!

Speaking of WiFi: I will probably not be going anywhere that I won’t have any service for an extended period of time ever again. The most important part of this trip was that I quickly realized how easily I took being able to use my phone for granted. It freaked me out to not know what was going on back at home. I’m that kid that rarely calls my parents or updates them about what I’m doing, but after that trip I’ve made sure to better communicate with them because I understand what being in the dark is like. I kept thinking about the possibilities of something happening at home and me not being able to know until I was in another country, or if the boat sank and I couldn’t even text a goodbye. I depend on my phone to fall asleep too -- I know, I’m one of those people. I’ve made it a routine that every night I have to go through  my social media feed to calm my mind down from thinking. So, not having that crutch made it a little hard to fall asleep every night. Oh, and there was this weird painting on the wall of these flowers that looked like spiders that gave me the creeps. 

The old men on the ship also gave me the creeps. If you’re cruising, you should be aware that you won’t ever have to worry about children being rambunctious: it’s the older people. We witnessed so many drunks on the cruise. I mean, sure I guess, have your fun, but we also witnessed the obnoxiously drunk. It was kind of scary, because I don’t enjoy that atmosphere and neither does my boyfriend. That meant that some places were off limits just because we didn’t want to deal with them. That’s not to say that all places were filled with drunks. We did have fun in the small arcade for an hour or so, wandered out to the helicopter pad for the best view of the ocean, and really enjoyed sitting at the actual bar because the most sophisticated crowd seemed to gather there. It was also the place where they held trivia. 

Being on a cruise ship is kind of strange in the sense that you’re trapped with the same two thousand people for a week. Everyone instantly becomes friends, people talk to you on the elevator, and you’ll watch your boyfriend make small talk with the fancy old ladies at said trivia. I made minimal interaction with other guests unless I was provoked first, but my boyfriend spent some time doing sports activities with others such as table tennis and dodge ball. However, we never really met anyone to stick with because the age situation. If you’re going on a cruise I think it’s best to take a small group so you have a variety of people to have fun with. I caught on that there was a grouping system midway through the cruise and that’s how people were enjoying themselves so much compared to just my boyfriend and I sitting and staring at each other for four days. (okay, maybe not like that but we spent a lot of time sitting and looking to each other for what to do with ourselves. Either way I love him to death and would choose to be slightly worried about being bored over any other option that didn’t include him in the picture.)

Half way through our cruise we arrived in Cozumel in what felt like a cattle farm method of moving tourists where the tourist farmers wanted us to go. It was strange, but effective for the shops and vendors in that particular region. After getting lost trying to figure out where our excursion bus was picking us up at, we took a fifteen minute drive to what was suppose to be this fun water park/beach adventure.

“suppose to be” because:

a. Most of the water attractions the beach had offered were not operating because the sea was a little rough, which isn’t the companies fault but I thought they should have considered doing something being that the entire reason we came was to do those activities. (activities included a floating obstacle course, kayaks, peddle boats, jet skis, snorkeling, etc.)

b. “Water park” in Cozumel means two identical short water slides (that also were not operating when my boyfriend and I walked over), a kiddie pool, and a regular pool.

c. The food was nothing compared to what we had been eating on the boat. I found out the hard way that only in America will you find white meat chicken nuggets. 

After those let downs, we sat on the beach for a couple hours. I also was accidentally given tequila because when my boyfriend asked for a lemonade the bartender put a shot of tequila in it before boyfriend could say anything. Actually, the staff was REALLY pushing drinks on people. I don’t mind a drink or two, being the college student that I am, but I’m pretty sure some teenage girls that were not Mexico’s drinking age (18) were being served. It was strange to watch this bartender/server run around the beach continuously asking if he could serve alcohol to anyone. Thinking back, when I asked for a water he made a joke about me not getting anything other than “just water”. With the lemonade situation, however, the only reason I hadn’t picked up on there being tequila in my drink was because I didn’t want to sound snotty for thinking Mexico’s lemonade was gross.

Even though the beach was somewhat of a bummer, Cozumel had a much better island paradise feel to it. The plants were gorgeous, the buildings were colorful, and the place felt truly exotic. We even watched some native dancing waiting for our bus to go to the beach, which was a fun touch and I wish I could have learned more about what they were doing. 

Back on the boat, I began to notice that the staff was...kind of strange. I guess after the magic of “oh my gosh we’re on a cruise ship!” wears off, you begin to see it as the operation that it is. Everyone was overly nice and really tried to drive home the “Are you having fun!?” feel. There’s one way of being charismatic and fun, such as Disney employees that give you the feeling you are talking to a friend, and then there was the same girl at lunch every day smiling with a bottle of hand sanitize telling us to have a good day like a robot.

Overall, I’d say cruising is something I’ll enjoy when I’m older and don’t want to run around to get where I’m going. I think with who I am currently, I enjoy having my freedom to run around and do whatever at the spur of the moment. Cruising is very scheduled, and is a major tourist trap. I’m assuming that going by the guidelines of what the trap wants, if you really want to have their idea of “a good time” you’ll have to overpay for it. However, the food was worth a million dollars and even without the luxuries other guests chose to waste their money on, it became an experience like no other that I believe everyone should at least have once. I'm always continuing to count my blessings and be thankful for what life has given me, and being on that boat with the person I love the most really solidified my gratefulness for the gift of life.  

[barelylivinblog]

We Went to Canada to See A Lot of Water

After driving through what seemed an endless route to the north pole, my boyfriend and I were crossing Lake Erie and heading across the border into Canada towards Niagara Falls. 

Traveling there wasn’t as bad as I’m letting it off to be, but being in a car for six hours definitely put a toll on my childlike soul. I spent almost an hour of the ride harassing my boyfriend by wearing his sunglasses and being ridiculous, which I now realize was a lot funnier in person than written out. 

If there’s anything I can tell you about taking a road trip, it’s very simple: Pack Snacks. 

Had my boyfriend’s mother not supplied us with a sandwich bag crammed with two breakfast bars, a nutty butty, and two bags of popcorn, I would have perished. We made the mistake not to stop when we saw food, and when I say food, I mean the shady gas stations along side the highway to nowhere. This was the best option because after so far along when we were actually hungry there was NO WHERE to eat until we got into Buffalo. At that point it made no sense to travel into buffalo when we could just wait until we got into Canada. 

Starving, we hurried along to our hotel and then quickly settled to eat at the Apple Bee’s right down the street from our hotel. Had we not been so hungry, I’m sure we wouldn’t have settled for the most American option. However, as my boyfriend said, it was easier knowing we were going to a place where we knew we would enjoy the food.

BUT.

To my horror upon looking at the menu: Canada’s Apple Bee’s DOES NOT SERVE BONELESS WINGS. I am an expert when it comes to American Apple Bee’s because if there was one close to my house I would eat there every day. The menu at the Canadian one was, to my surprise, much smaller. They didn’t even offer two for $25. 

Another thing I picked up on quickly was how expensive everything was. Even with the conversion I ended up spending double my anticipated amount just from eating and sightseeing. The only free part of the trip was seeing the Falls themselves. My boyfriend even had to pay to park his car for the weekend. 

Anyways, after paying what seemed like a million dollars for a meal at the facade that they called Apple Bee’s, we headed down to the Falls for the first time in the dark. In order to get there you had to walk down this steep hill (which continuously killed me when we hiked back up it) and walk under this bridge that still had been decorated for Christmas. The whole city was still decorated for Christmas which was nice considering our trip was a “Christmas” trip. 

Once you got so far down the hill there was a picture view of what I believed to be the only Falls. You see, there are two waterfalls in this area: The American side and the Canadian side. In my head the two falls were facing their claimed countries, but it turns out they were both facing the Canadian side. 

So I was staring at the American side, lit up by colorful lights, and thinking that this was the big sight to see. To be honest, I hadn’t even realized what I was looking at until my boyfriend said that the Falls were straight ahead. They, especially in the night, looked like projections of water. It was unreal. 

And then I saw the Canadian side, or the Horseshoe Falls. Which, again, looked like a large projections. My eyes could almost not adjust to what I was seeing because it was so unbelievable. 

After the magic of the falls and being showered in positive ions, my boyfriend and I headed back to our hotel. Below is a list of things we discovered about our hotel:

1. You cannot use bath bombs in the hotel tub or else they will charge you $350.00

2. Channel 4 is the fireplace channel

3. The vending machines only take dollar coins, HOWEVER, the dollar coins they have set out for you are a three dollar charge. 

4. The pillows were garbage. 

5. Hotel IHop was delicious but I paid 13.00 dollars for a meal I get at Denny’s for 4 dollars. 

6. The curtains that would make sense to be able to move DO NOT move.

7. The elevator will smell like weed.

8. The hotel gift shops snacks are very pricey. We lucked out after I spotted a general store directly across from our hotel and got snacks for a little bit cheaper. It was a good business, still selling stuff obnoxiously priced but not as pricey as the hotel. 

Our second day we went behind the waterfalls, and climbed over to Clifton Hill in search for something to do. We ended up at a glow in the dark indoor mini-golf course. It was a good way to waste some time and I think was worth the admission price. I was worried it was going to be crowded but everyone was good about waiting their turn which made it a cool experience.

That night, however, my boyfriend took me to the casino.The casino was really dazzling to the eye, but once you looked past the fancy decor and colorful flooring, it was scary how hypnotized some people were. I watched people who looked like their lives had been sucked out of them from hitting a button and betting away a lot more money than one should to a computerized slot machine. I had never been to a casino because in America I’m not old enough, but here all I had to do was show two forms of I.D. and I was stamped and sent on my way.

I ended up not gambling because it was a weird concept to me, but my boyfriend did. He was laughing and carrying on and all the older people were giving us dirty looks. It was fun to watch him, but now I fear he’s hooked (not really, I just like to give him a hard time).

The best part of the casino was the buffet. It was beautiful inside, the food was all very good, and it was one of the cheaper meals we had. We ended up eating there twice because of this, so I strongly recommend that if you are in a touristy area where food is expensive, look for that casino buffet. 

On Sunday, we explored a wax museum. It was the worst idea I’ve ever had. Like, I’m ashamed to admit that I was the one that suggested it. The museum was about the size of a house, but laid out in a way that made it seem larger. In order to appear this way, each room was sectioned off by doors rather than archways. At one point I felt overwhelmingly claustrophobic because we were in a small room with about five different figures. The figures themselves looked to be completely real or like creepy dolls -- there was no in-between. I thought this uneasy feeling of being scared that one of them was going to come to life was just me and my overactive imagination, but once leaving I found out that my boyfriend was also pretty spooked about the whole experience.

So to calm down we went and sampled beers. The servers never carded us or looked at us strangely, which made me uneasy as well but also reassured that I wasn’t being illegal. My boyfriend and I argued for which beer was best, but to be honest I don’t really care for beer at all. 

Speaking of servers and overall employees, they will never be paid enough to deal with rude tourists. I watched numerous encounters where tourists were being unreasonably rude to staff members and if there’s any advice I can give you about traveling: be nice to the workers and they will usually give you a nice experience. It’s the famous “treat others the way you would like to be treated.”

When Monday morning came, we headed back to the States and I took a well needed nap while my boyfriend played Smash Brothers to make up for his lost gaming time.

Overall, Niagara Falls was beautiful. I assumed that because of winter there wouldn’t be as many people, but it was pretty crowded over the weekend. However, we never ate a bad meal or experienced anything negative (other than the spooky wax museum but we have erased that from our memory). My only regret is that we didn’t explore as much as we should have. It was very easy to do things that we were familiar with instead of taking risks. My prime example of this was the Apple Bee’s, and although the buffet was amazing, next time I would enjoy to explore what Canada’s menu has to offer, food and experience wise. The most exploring we did was nearby, and we typically stayed close to what was familiar to us. The farthest we went was to a Hershey Chocolate World only to discover that it didn’t have the Hershey Factory Tour ride that our beloved Hershey Park has. In the long run however, we did a substantial amount of walking around and had a very relaxing trip.

To summarize: pack snacks, have a lot of spending money, and enjoy the view because it was the best part. 

[barelylivinblog]

Purple.

I told myself that I wasn’t going to come about this with an emotional bias. It’s been a couple weeks since, and after much thought and forgetting about it most of the time at this point, I think it’s a good time to piece together this story.

I am a purple person, and I’m very aware of it. I am more aware of me being a purple person than most people will ever know. My purpleness shimmers as soon as I raise my hand in an uncomfortable classroom, it drenches me during presentations, and it suffocates me when I feel as if I’ve lost control of a situation. I’ve even been medicated for my purple in my early days, but have since then taken on more natural remedies to reduce purple.

My purple footprints will dot the floor, and people will rarely notice, but when they do they’ll make note of it because I accidentally stained their shoe with the slime of my mental state.

My purple is stained all over my writing because even though I am considered good at this I can never quite focus my mind enough, calm it down enough, to write well-crafted sentences. My purple is splattered all over my clothing and hair because it’s one of my ways to feel as if I’m stronger than everyone.

My purple had me swimming in my seat through a semester of tough questions asked by a person of higher authority who looked directly at me as the purple creature that I was. They preached of equality and understanding but they never meant purple people -- they only wanted freedom for themselves. 

My purple coated my throat and made it hard to breathe when I would catch them looking my direction and I prayed to whoever could listen to me screaming in my mind “Please do not pick the purple person.”

Luckily, the others were always fast to talk, leaving my purple state still and at rest. My purple was calm, my purple was easing itself into the months of sitting in silence and watching everything unfold.

It was beautiful, and remains beautiful, that my peers would look at me in my purple state and never see the color. They were completely color blind and only treated me as if they didn’t even know what the color purple was. 

But authority is allowed to wear a pair of special glasses where they see my purple. They see my purple and how deep it goes. How it pumps through my heart and makes it quiver sometimes, how it weighs down my muscles, how my purple crowds around my brain like a thick cloud. 

They gave their glasses to my peers one day. They wrote across the board in purple marker SHE IS PURPLE. SHE IS PURPLE. 

SHE.

         IS.

               PURPLE.

They wrapped the thickest purple blanket around my shoulders and covered me till I was hot enough to sweat. Purple drops slivered down my purple skin and purple tears collected in my purple eyes.

The others could only look and feel sorry for my purple. I walked away leaving a paint trail of purple behind me, the room was left smelling of my purple. 

I went to those who knew but looked past my purple, and ended up being suggested I find authorities help.

However, authority and their damn glasses couldn’t understand purple. They didn’t know what purple meant and could only offer me the bare minimum for being purple. It’s just purple they were probably thinking, how bad could purple be?

So bad that I’ll try to pull purple from my hair, bite at my purple fingers, and scratch at my purple skin to try and rid myself of purple. So bad that purple will fill in my lungs till I’m gasping for anything that isn’t purple but sometimes it feels like there is no escape and my entire world is purple. My eyes glaze over purple. My bones shake purple. My thoughts are nothing but purple.

So bad that I’ll wake up and accept my purple. That purple isn’t always an ugly color and if I’m in the right light everything is okay. Everything is usually okay. Even if I am purple, I am still a person. 

It’s comforting to discover that someone else is purple, but I will never look at them as being purple. I will only look at them as a friend. 

My purple may sometimes cause me troubles but it’s gotten me out of trouble too. My purple will say “wait a minute, maybe we shouldn’t do this.” My purple will cause me to always be prepared. My purple makes me a good listener, a good thinker, and most of all: A good person.

I am purple, and you might be too. But we are not alone, and being purple doesn’t make you any less of a person. Those who will try and use your purple against you will always look far worse and be thought of way worse than you and your purple ever will. 

Besides, purple is just purple. It’s you that is the important part.

[barelylivinblog]

Mirrors

It’s very safe to say that people are hard to understand. People are hard to understand because some of them spend a lot of time trying to understand other people, while others don’t give a fuck. People are hard to understand because I can never wrap my head around why some people think and act the way they do, or why others will do nothing at all.

From a young age I’ve had this trouble with trying to be liked by everyone. By the time high school came I quickly figured out that it’s impossible to do so, but as people we all crave the idea of being liked even if we say we don’t care. But why is this?

Socially it’s probably healthy to have plenty of friends, but for others it could be mentally exhausting. So I don’t want to say that being liked has anything to do with the amount of friends you have. I believe that being liked by other people reflects back to you liking yourself. 

Take it for example, if someone were to say something about your outfit. Person A says they love it and love your style, and you spend the rest of the day flaunting around because now that you’ve been “liked” by someone, you were given almost permission to like yourself. Person B, however, says they hate your outfit and you will probably curl up in a ball of your own embarrassment because now you are in belief that your outfit choice was the worst. It’s all a matter of what other people are thinking that make us think a certain way about ourselves. 

It’s like everyone is a mirror. Without mirrors we wouldn’t have any idea what we looked like, we’d just have to go with what our gut was telling us. In a silly sense, it’s like everyone is a big mirror showing you their perception of you. We base ourselves off those perceptions, change ourselves, and adapt to what society wants us to be. Make the mirror happy. 

This could fall into that whole “magazines want girls to be skinny” argument, but that’s old news at this point. We’re aware that society has unrealistic stereotypes for both men and women, but that doesn’t stop us from wanting to look like those stereotypes. Companies such as Aerie have broken this golden rule of skinny models by showing average sized girls in their underwear/bra line, and to be honest it certainly made me feel better seeing these new models with a few tummy rolls rather than the previous assortment. 

But why do we care so much about what other people think that we would want to change our identities out of hope that we would one day be a part of that “wanted” category. Does anyone even fit that category? Why are we chasing after perfection if perfection cannot be defined? 

Eventually even Barbie’s hair gets frizzy and wild after you played with her a couple of times. Her clothes wrinkle, her painted face fades, and her joints start to squeak a little. That doesn’t mean it’s owner throws it out, it’s just worn in. 

Loved.

In our society of perfection it’s almost beautiful now to not be perfect. I’ve heard from multiple people that they are looking for naturally beautiful girls because they are “special”. It’s as if our natural faces are so rare now that it intrigues the brain into wanting this new exotic being. Which is kind of crazy to think about.

Now this doesn’t go to say that those who get up every morning and style their hair and apply makeup aren’t welcome or beautiful. The problem is when you are doing those things for other people and not yourself. If caking foundation makes you feel good about yourself, like it makes me feel, then you are good to continue. If you are spending four hours on your hair because someone told you that your natural hair is ugly, please put down your curling wand. Because even though there are these mirrors all around us, at the end of each day and the beginning of each morning the only mirror you see is your own. 

That’s the one that matters. 

If you wake up and can’t recognize who you are, then you need to stop looking through other people’s eyes and look deep inside yourself instead. 

[barelylivinblog]

Tips From a Virgin Traveler to Other Virgin Travelers

I recently went on my first vacation with my boyfriend and his family, and I decided to be productive about it and use the information I learned from being a virgin traveler to help those who are also going to be future first time travelers. 

My first piece of advice is to take something other than your phone to occupy yourself for your plane ride. I was a first time flyer, and figured that I could just mess around on my phone for three hours. What I didn’t plan for is that when you’re 34,000 feet in the air there’s no cellphone service.

Another thing I figured out from flying for the first time is that I hate flying. I’m sure for the average person it’s not as bad as my mind makes it out to be, but being a first timer has to be scary for anyone. I’m here to tell you that it’s okay to be nervous. Just make sure you take something to pass the time and not make the mistake I made where I was stuck listening to soft music and playing solitaire for three and a half hours as we flew from Pittsburgh, PA to Denver, CO.

Secondly, prepare to be in a car. For some reason I was under the impression that after we got off the plane everything would be relatively near by. However, we drove quite a bit to get to our destinations. I was little uneasy at first because our car rides were quiet, but once you learn to appreciate and take in the scenery around you it becomes settling. Even for a fidgety person like myself, the car rides became a lot easier when I learned to sit back and stare out the window.

Thirdly, be reasonable about the amount of snacks you purchase for said car rides and hotels. I accidentally overloaded on snacks early on in fear that I wasn’t going to get the chance to get snacks later. However, I learned that unlike movies about the desert, there will eventually always be a gas station. Hotels usually have gas stations reasonably close by as well, so don’t fear that you’ll go hungry and end up over packed with snacks you won’t be able to finish.

This is also a good time to try new snacks. I found myself in an M&M craze after our hotel offered a bag of peanut ones for free with our room. I ended up purchasing four bags that trip, and I used to not like M&Ms at all. They were convenient for traveling because unlike a regular chocolate bar I didn’t have to worry about them melting. 

In addition to that, don’t get too overwhelmed by the up pricing of restaurants. You don’t have to eat at a bunch of fancy restaurants to have a good time either, so don’t feel the “but we’re on vacation!” pressure. 

Fourth, don’t depend on your sunscreen to last you as long as it says. I think it’s safe to say that it’s better to be prepared for the weather at the expense of having a few more items in your luggage than being shit out of luck. I ended up taking a large bottle of 50 SPF sunscreen with me for most occasions, and the only time I burnt was on my scalp other than the day I decided I wouldn’t need sunscreen when we went white water rafting. I left my sun screen in the car under the impression that we’d be in the water and shaded, but I ended up baking my leg and watched my boyfriend’s friend burn up his knees even though he was consistent on re-applying. So please, take your sunscreen and anything else you might need no matter where you go, because if we hadn’t ended up sharing sunscreen I would have most likely “lobstered”. 

Fifth, never underestimate the amazing qualities of a mini van. Choose your rental car based on comfort and not on looks. I learned this lesson after having judgments about the idea of us roaming around in this silver van for a week, but it ended up being the best idea EVER because it was so roomy and cozy. 

Sixth, learn to take lots and lots of pictures. I was self conscious at first because I didn’t want to look like the stereotypical tourist running around and snapping pictures with my phone everywhere we went. But it’s an easy keep sake to have those photos, and I know you’ll regret not taking enough because you can never take enough to fully display the amazing time you’re having.  My trip crew was well off on taking pictures, so I lucked out with some really great ones to fill my social media pages and have the memories of every thing we did. 

Seventh, and what I believe to be one of the most important things, is to adapt. Not to the environment, but with the people around you. Being on vacation means you’re going to be awfully close to some people for what might seem like a long time. We all have our flaws and our pet peeves, and the stress of traveling might wear us thin sometimes. It’s important to take a deep breathe and have patience. Adapting to each other’s differences will make things run smoother and only bring your trip crew closer. 

Eighth, be nice to the employees you meet along the way. I don’t think we ever ran into any employees at any locations that were in a bad mood. So don’t give them one in return. I did see some other guests being particular with employees, and I think it’s easy to think that they’re just the person making your food or taking your towels, but those people have lives and feelings too. Some of them are most likely not getting paid enough to deal with both their job and your attitude. 

Ninth, Free is Free. Take advantage of it without causing a hassle. You will not believe the amount of makeup remover wipes I swiped from hotel rooms during our trip. It’s not an uncommon thing to most people to take the complimentary toiletries, but I would suggest only taking the things you think you’ll use. I may have taken a shampoo and conditioner bottle from Walt Disney World’s hotel four years ago, and may still haven’t touched them because I have no use for Disney’s hair products. It’s one thing to make use of those items, but don’t let them take up room in your suitcase and house. There’s also that possibility that it could explode during the flight because here’s another side tip: The airport people have no care for your precious luggage. 

Tenth, dress not for looks but for function, or try and do both. I figured out that it’s more important to dress comfortable than cute. Depending on what you’re doing, it might be perfectly fine to strut around in your best outfits. However, don’t try wearing uncomfortable shoes if you’re going to be walking all day. You might be saying in your head how cute those shoes are and you’ll want to dress up for vacation, but it’s not worth it and no one will think less of you for wearing comfortable shoes. I’d like to say I did pretty well with sticking to practicality, but I ended up really liking the outfits I had picked for my trip. It’s much easier to pack when your outfits aren’t complex. For example, packing cute t-shirts and shorts that can go a combinations of ways ended up being a lot less stressful because I didn’t have to worry about not liking something due to the options I had given myself. 

I could keep going on in an endless loop of tips and things I’ve learned from going on my first vacation, but I believe the most important thing is that as a first time traveler you learn your own set of guidelines and knowledge about traveling. I think if you worry too much about what to expect, when the time comes it’ll fly right by you. Take your time to relax, because in the end everything will be fine. You’re on vacation! I also found it important to take a few moments by yourself and take everything in and count your blessings. Vacationing is a privilege not everyone get’s to experience, so take a moment to thank those around you and be thankful in general. 

Exploring is a great activity, and reaching outside your comfort zone is a good practice in moderation. I don’t want to say that I’m a changed person after taking my first trip, but I feel more at ease about the world around me. I met a lot of very nice people and saw a lot of really nice places. Adventure is out there my friends, and I challenge you to go out into it. Do something new, something interesting to you, something that will make you feel things. 

So, finally, my last tip is simple. Go do things.

[barelylivinblog]

I’m Being Paid to Write This... Sort of.

Out of all my bad ideas, I think my best one was working at a Resort twenty minutes from my house. 

There’s a secret about having my job: it’s not really a job. Okay, so maybe like for an hour it’s a job, but after that hours up I’m free to sit in air conditioning and scroll through memes on Facebook. I also have the freedom to write my blog, as I am doing right now. Technically, I’m being paid to write. 

Lately I find myself wanting to take time to do things, but don’t set aside the physical time to proceed with any of those activities. Take for example the three large suitcases that are still in my room half unpacked from coming home from college. Those suitcases will have to sit for at least another couple days because I won’t have time until my first day off, and I know I’ll probably plan something else to hang out with friends or give into the temptation of my boyfriend’s house. 

This can get sort of stressful, because I never really give myself a solid break. Being constantly on the move is healthy for someone like me, because if I’m not occupying myself with even a small task my brain begins to wander down a path of anxious thoughts and I will actually think myself sick. However, I’m now finding that I have no time at all to relax. I somehow managed to balance work, an ex-boyfriend, and binge watching Parks and Rec last summer, but this summer I’m already finding myself drowning in the ideas of all the things I need to do. 

So, hopefully the balance will soon come again. But my words of advice are simple: make time for doing nothing. There’s a stigma around doing nothing making you lazy, but doing nothing is perfectly okay. Like me, you might have to find ways to plan to do nothing, which sounds silly but is completely okay as well. I’ve seen people make being busy a competition, and it totally shouldn’t be. Don’t base how you should be doing things off of everyone else, only you know what you can handle. Keep in mind that taking time for yourself isn’t selfish, but well needed. 

If there’s anything I can do, I dare you to make today a do nothing day.

[barelylivinblog]

Forgive me Lord, for I am Female.

I think the worst part about being a woman is that the idea of being a woman is too confusing for even us women to understand. 

For starters, the oh so famous talk of periods that will leave most men feeling uncomfortable. Get over yourselves. It happens. We bleed, it’s no secret. I’m a very open person, and often over share everything because I don’t really believe in the idea of "taboo”. I’m here on Earth to share my thoughts and feelings, and when you have a period once a month, sometimes those thoughts and feelings are about said topic. It’s happened too many times where I’ll say something about my period and the males of the room will get all weird about it. Like, you guys are allowed to talk about your shits and fucking girls but I can’t say “My period really sucks today.” without someone saying “TMI!” 

Forgive me, for I have periods.

Another thing that we women have to hide the fact is that we have nipples. It’s like a public shaming if someone saw your nipple, just look at nip slips in the media, those stories go viral fast. News flash! Most of us have nipples. Lucky for females, ours actually have a use. I guess I’ve always just kind of tucked my tits away due to my parents teaching me to have modesty, but sometimes I wish I could be that girl that just has her nips rocking through her shirt because it’s just the human body. The only time it’s socially acceptable to show a nip is in the bedroom, but why? If I’m a mother and I need to feed my kid you best not think I’m about to save that for the bedroom. It’s the same body part, they don’t change as soon as we go out into public. 

Forgive me, for I have tits.

I’ve heard it be said on multiple occasions that women are sensitive. Hell yes we are, but so is everyone. Women just know how to express it better most of the time. Not to shame my fellas, because I believe in equality, but come on. “Man up!” isn’t a good phrase, and neither is “stop acting like a girl!” I think this comes from the idea that women can snap into this mode where they put their heart into someone or something and full force put all their effort into it. So of course when things go south, we get upset. Who wouldn’t? How dare I cry about heart break or an animated movie, at least I have the balls to share that with someone other than myself. My friend and I have discussed how men are good at shutting away all their feelings, and I don’t think it’s their fault, I just think women are more open and have a different idea of closeness. Men close off their feelings because that’s what they’re expected to do. Seeing a man cry is the most heart breaking scene because it’s not typical to see. It feels like this secret you can’t tell anyone because it would be dreadful if anyone knew a man cried. It makes me feel bad, but then men are quick to call us out on caring and being crazy. Isn’t it crazy that your best friend will never know what upsets you?  Forgive me, for I have emotions.

On a more physical sense, I find it annoying that I’m suppose to be modest but also sexy. Please choose one and stick with it because doing both is impossible. Better yet, just mind your own business about the length of my skirt or how much of my midrift you can see. It’s the human body, we all have one. It’s no secret. If I want to wear a cute crop top and high waisted skinny jeans with holes all through them, I’m going to shrug at the staring eyes and work it. This problem with clothing isn’t just a male vs. female thing, but a female vs. female thing. We girls will go against each other and judge one-another off our outfits. “Did you see that v-neck? Showing off the girls... such a whore.” You’ve heard the talk before. I used to be guilty of doing it as well. I think we’re so self conscious about what we’re wearing that it’s easier to judge everyone else. So please don’t tell me that I’m showing too much leg and that my crop top isn’t appropriate for said event. Forgive me, for I have short skirts.

Forgive me all together for being female, or for falling under the gender roles we’re given. I’m a strong believer in not really caring what you’re into as long as you aren’t killing people or causing harm to yourself/others. I don’t understand why men are suppose to be tough and dig in the dirt while girls are suppose to be polite and sit with dolls on the living room floor. I certainly didn’t grow up with one option, and you better believe I had a construction crew of Hot Wheels in the mud after it rained. Our stereotypes don’t define us, and yes, being a woman sucks, but I do love it. I love the elegance of my femininity, but also enjoy my rough-around-the-edges personality. You should also find the things you enjoy about yourself and embrace them, lace them into who you are physically, because the roles don’t matter in the end. It’s who you are on the inside that counts.

Forgive me Lord, for I am Me.

[barelylivinblog]

The Weight of It All

I believe one of the hardest things for a small 5′3 girl to say is “I”m fat.” My friends and family will all go “what are you talking about?” “shut up!” “You’re so small!”

I am fat. No one will understand this sentence because no one else has witnessed the dramatic change my body has taken in the past year. My stomach rolls over itself, my thighs have a little bit of a jiggle to them, I have muffin top because my ass can barely fit in the size zero jeans that used to fall off of me, and it’s recently come to my attention that my skin is painted with the cracks of stretch marks. Now if you were to read this without knowing anything about me, you would most likely think that I’m probably just a little chubby and need some time at the gym. That’s not the case. 

I’ve spent most of my life being the runt, underweight and miniature sized. I’ve also had my anxiety take the best of me and lost substantial amounts of weight at periods of time. The last one being around this time last year, where I was about 90 or so pounds. Today I’m 130 on the dot. This is suppose to sound like a victorious moment of health and “oh Liv, you’re finally getting a little curvy!” 

I’m finding the complete opposite coming into play. I used to be able to get away with wearing barely anything, on the days I’d feel able to get dressed, and feel confident that my stomach was flat and my thigh gap was measuring stick worthy. You know, that stereotypical body that women are influenced that they need but know that it isn’t realistic.

I was one of the “lucky” ones to see that standard come to life. I am fully aware on how unhealthy that lifestyle is, and I am glad to see that my family and friends knew I was sick, because after a photo shoot retouches those thin girls to give them life and glow, you’re left with a sick looking short girl that hasn’t eaten in three days. 

So after being spoiled with societies idea of “perfection” I am feeling anything but recently. Forty pounds is a lot of weight in the end for anyone to gain or lose. You can’t expect me to be forty pounds heavier and not feel the weight of that balancing on my shoulders as I try and figure out how to feel good about myself again. 

I guess I”ll end it with this, if you think you’re ugly you aren’t. If you think you’re too big for this world, you aren’t. If you think you’re too small, you’re not. What matters here is that you are what you feel comfortable with, or can work on being comfortable with. Fuck those models, photo shop, ridiculous diet and exercise plans, because they don’t know you. Only you know what you want and how to get to what you want. Those wants don’t even have to be physical, because, at least for me, life’s not about the physical. I am chasing after acceptance, not by others, but by myself. It’s hard work, but I hope someday I can look in that mirror and really feel for my size. I hope the same for anyone reading this, but if you can’t imagine it and then it’s time to hop on the train and begin working towards it too. 

If that’s what you want. 

[barelylivinblog]

The sidewalk less traveled.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m very good at picking choices that make my life harder, and I’m also very good at not realizing it.

This came to me when I was walking to class one morning, and because of the ever expanding campus I attend there’s a small branch of sidewalk that leads to the counseling service office that breaks off the curve of the regular sidewalk. Technically by taking that shorter path my walk would be shorter, and I didn’t even really take notice until one day I saw a kid take that path. Even now that I know the other sidewalk is shorter I’m still taking the longer route and am usually a few seconds later coming into class than I should be. 

Why take that sidewalk then? I hope you’re at least wondering.

I believe it has something to do with repetition, and maybe my subconscious effort to live the rebellious life and go out of my way to make myself look different. Most people do this through style or piercings, I do this by taking longer sidewalks. 

I’ve watched my friends do this same cycle of choosing to make things harder for themselves. Such as my friend who decided to wait to do an essay, or my boyfriend who waits for the last minute to do anything. Why do we do this to ourselves? Is it because we find doing things the way they are suppose to be done boring? Is it a cry for help? Help me please, I don’t want to use the shorter sidewalk! 

I guess this also has something to do with independence, or a lack thereof. In my case I feel that my independence is so strong that I decide that I don’t need that shorter sidewalk because fuck that, I don’t need an easier walk. 

As harmless as sidewalk choices sound, I’m starting to figure out that my choices now affect more than myself. This is one of the scariest parts about growing up is that it’s somehow more about everyone else than it is about me. If I decide to drink I have to take into account the feelings of my parents, boyfriend, friends, etc. If I speed in my car, eat too much cake, or shut out those who care about me the most it all comes back to not only myself but others. I’ve watched it happen and it’s the most awful feeling in the world. 

As previously mentioned, the muscle memory of these choices is starting to also come into full play with this affecting others deal. I find myself doing things that I don’t necessarily have to do anymore, and when I do them now it bites me in the ass. 

So, here I am. I’m trying to forgive and forget the tendency of having the unrealistic urge to use the longer sidewalk, because now I have those who follow me hand in hand. Nothing against that sidewalk, but I’d much rather have them. 

Don’t do as I do, but as I say when I say please remember that people care about you, and you may never know who is following in your footsteps. Lead by example, not by feet. 

[barelylivinblog]

I’m Really Good at Talking but Not Good At Saying Things.

It’s one thing to be able to speak, but another to be able say things. 

Recently, I’ve figured out that I’m good at speaking, or as my closest friends would say, good at never shutting my mouth. I’m quick to tell you about my latest shit or about that one time I had a UTI, but I could never openly discuss my fear of intimacy or how my mental disorders challenge my every day life.

I think we have this problem in today’s society where we are too easily focused in on humor rather than the things that truly make us who we are. I recently went to a speech competition where the prompt was about what the speaker’s dream was for the future. I quickly discovered that a majority of their dreams came from hardships they faced. It was a concept I had to identify as a no-brainer, but fascinating because I had never thought about it before. 

Our hardships, how we handle them, is how we form who we are. So coming back to the idea of it being hard to express that, it’s basically like saying we have trouble expressing ourselves.

Sure it’s amusing to listen to my friends die of laughter as I tell them about how last week I shut a kid’s arm in the dessert case in our school’s cafeteria, but that’s only reaching them so far. 

I’m often good at getting people to open up to me, but when it comes to my turn to say how I’m feeling, I’m a stuttering mess. I’m lost for words. I’m swirling the idea of how to explain things. It’s the complete opposite of what people perceive me as. My friends are aware that if I was told to go talk to an audience to stall  for twenty-five minutes I would easily be able to let words slide off my tongue, but having to talk to someone personally about my past for twenty-five minutes is an actual nightmare. 

This issue has become a larger deal now that I’m back at this relationship stuff. It’s already evident that he’s ready to listen, but I’m never ready to tell. I watch his eyes grow a tad frustrated because he can’t understand why it’s so hard for me to talk about those types of things, because from experience I’m the girl that will tell you anything. 

As the following weeks finish up the remainder of my freshmen year, I can only hope that I can figure out a smoother balance between speaking and saying. I can also identify the differences in others who are like me, and challenge their ability to easily bullshit their way through anything. I’m looking forward to creating long lasting friendships based on trust, and to build that trust I have to work on saying things. 

My challenge for you is to consider the same. Take your hardships and create good out of them, no matter what it be, a poem or a dream speech, and don’t let it define you negatively. Let your hardships make you a proud warrior. Learn how to say that you’ve made it this far instead of speaking it. When we learn how to say things, it will only benefit our communication with one-another and remind us that we’re all in this together. 

Or at least, we’re all human.

[barelylivinblog]

Some Friends are Worth Going to Hell For.

It’s not unusual to find me sitting in the passenger seat of my best friend’s car pretending to hold the “oh shit bar” (because his car doesn’t have one) and blaring Cyndi Lauper. We’re discussing the ever growing list of “songs we need to learn” for our fake cover band. He’s singing three octaves out of range, and we’re living life.

We pulled into the bowling alley, and I looked at him. He gives me that “what’s wrong” expression and I put down my ground rules:

1. If there’s a lot of people here we are leaving

2. If we have to bowl with anyone besides ourselves we’re leaving

3. If there’s kids we’re leaving.

To piece together this story, I must explain that my best friend, Brett, pretty much peer pressured me into a church bowling trip. I hesitated in agreeing because I’m not good at bowling in addition to not being good at going to a church. He had assured me that few people were going to come and that it would just be a free, relaxing bowl between the two of us. However, when we pulled into that parking lot we had trouble finding a spot because the swarm of cars had filled a majority of the lot.

We walked in and found the usual crowd of Mennonites, which isn’t odd for our area, and a few other people scrambled about. We sat at the bar and gazed about at the odd view in front of us. All of the monitors that usually display the score and the quirky little animations were reading off “no signal” and no one was bowling. There was only two operating televisions, one playing the news and the other playing Cartoon Network. 

“Brett. I don’t want to bowl, no one else is bowling.” I whispered, tense from the social anxiety of how weird it was that we were in a bowling alley watching everyone watch television.

He looked at me and paused for a second, “I don’t know who any of these people are.”

I was screaming inside. We had gone from believing the entire church was here to no one had showed up. Brett pulled out his phone and began looking at pictures of one of his music directors from college, to which we discussed which version of his director we were. I was 2013 Craig, but cowboy hat wearing Craig on the weekends.

We watched as a group of Mennonite girls Snap Chatted the scene in front of us, which was odd for our area. I have nothing against these girls doings but it was a new sighting for us. 

Brett instantly made a finsta (Fake Instagram) about it while I listened to the older gentlemen working behind the counter. 

“We’ll take lane four.” the young man said to the worker.

“No you won’t.” the snarky old man said bluntly.

Apparently, the bowling alley was broken. The power wasn’t working in the back which was causing the system to short out. The worker was being rude to everyone who was clueless about the alley being down. It was making me anxious to hear the communication, or lack thereof. It’s hard to not analyze simple conversations now after spending an almost all nighter studying for an exam on different communication models. Maybe college is doing something.

Anyhow, Brett’s parent’s showed up and the lovely Donna Brown (Brett’s mom) came in and saved the day with the ability to keep score without the system or animations. We went over to the three operational lanes, and I use operational loosely because the only thing it could do is scoop up the pins. Every time we would hit pins we’d have to hit the reset button, it was a little old school for my liking. 

Our game started, and the group beside us had been a part of the church group as well. It was unsettling, because I watched Brett be recognized and then they’d look at me exchange a strange look.

You know, because everyone thinks I’m dating my cousin/best friend. 

As our bowling began, and I was (cough) winning, a large group of kids came from the roller skating rink next door over to us.

It turns out that the church had only rented three lanes, and this large group of kids was going to have to fit in. We adopted two of the kids and the rest got on the lane beside us.

I was sitting at the bar with my face in my phone trying to escape the current hell surrounding me. Donna looked over at me and asked me what was wrong, and without any hesitation I shook my head and said, “This is a disaster.”

Don’t get me wrong, I was grateful for free bowling, and didn’t mind the churches carefree attitude of me being there, but all three of the previously mentioned rules were broken at once. I blinked and we were living my nightmare. We were trapped into finishing the game because it would be rude to slide out mid-game with these two children.

The one kid was so excited to bowl that he’d ask anytime someone took a breath if it was their turn. The lovely Donna, who has incredible patiences, would assure them every time that it wasn’t quite their turn yet but soon it would be. 

The other child would just throw the ball and turn back to run to their seat with the look of sorrow on their face. I related too well with them.

“You know that as soon as this game is over we are surely leaving.” Brett side eyed me. 

Thank god.

I mumbled to him as we both looked at our phones “I just want you to remember this moment when I’m calling you from jail needing bailed out.”

I bowled an 86. Brett stole the show with a handful of strikes. 

We said goodbye to Donna and Fred, who had maybe said five words aloud the entire time, and basically ran out the door. 

We got into the car, and rode silent until we started listening to Will Smith’s rap career and I slowly eased my tense shoulders as life had slowed back down to it’s normal pace. I took into consideration that I’d do about anything for the little weirdo in the driver’s seat, and that’s what friendship should be about. It doesn’t matter the amount of years you’ve known each other or how many nice things you do for one another, it’s about leaving your comfort zone for one another and laughing about those really weird times you’ve had together. I’d call that bowling event a total fail, but it wasn’t because I shared it with my best friend and now I have this hilariously awful story of my suffering to share.

I think the worst part of that day was having Will Smith’s music stuck in my head if I’m being honest.

“Welcome to Miami.”

[barelylivinblog]

The secret is you lose your virginity more than once.

There’s this stigma about the special moment of losing your virginity, but let me tell you that it’s nothing more than shoving yourself into an uncomfortable situations and faking it till it’s over. 

In that case, I’ve lost my virginity way more than once, and I don’t want to call you a slut, but you probably have to.

Recently I had the “privilege” to go to the dentist by myself for the first time. 

For starters, I was late. I ended up taking my tooth brush and paste with me to brush my teeth on the way. I sat in my car in the parking lot with a bottle of water and brushed my teeth right before going inside. I spit on curb side and entered the gates of hell.

I walked in nervous, because I don’t accomplish small talk, and that’s all the receptionist wants to do. I’m listening to the buzz of the lights as she asks me about school, my major, family, the whole nine yards. I’m sure she could hack into my bank account with all the information I had told her that morning. 

I was naive, already feeling the weight from dragging the anchor of dread. A cracked tooth was causing me more problems than the initial pain. Mom sent me off with a smile, “It’ll be easy” she said, “they’ll just fill it.” she said. I walked back to the dentist’s chair, where my dentist took one look at me and I watched his mustache dance above his lip. “Yup. Root canal, sorry sweetie.”

Panic. 

I sat up, they know I’m the way I am, and after sitting for fifteen minutes being explained in detail the process of a root canal, I’m ready to open wide and take it.

Too soon? 

It took another forty-five to scrape the guts out of my tooth. Which was not as fun as it sounds.

Faking it, I kept telling myself that I was an adult and this was the roots of being one. Get it? Roots. Speaking of which, my dentist pulled out the nerve in my tooth and showed it to me. I gagged. 

Afterwards, high off the adrenaline of being independent, I came back to the receptionist’s desk where she was telling me important information about the prescriptions she was writing me out. I was too busy staring at the filing cabinet. One of the drawers was open, filled completely with files. I wanted to leave before it fell over, because that shit was totally going to fall over. 

That wasn’t the case, because my dentist wanted me to take this very large pain relieving pill right there at the receptionists desk. Which is slightly embarrassing, because I have this weird quirk where I have to completely “swoosh” a pill around in my mouth until it’s touched all sides of my mouth. Don’t question it, I just have to do it that way. I turned away and panicked to try and take this pill and oh this woman began talking to me again. It was a disaster. 

I finally got back to my car, which is a haze, and I stepped in my own spit from that morning. This is when I began to realize I’m at that weird age where I do adult things in addition to stupid childish things, and the childish things catch up to me in the end. 

I went home and complained to my parents about the terrible experience she had put me through, but overall I didn’t have that bad of an experience.

This all goes back to my original idea. Being an adult means you have to suck it up and do some dirty shit sometimes. It’s when you begin to decide how that moments going to go that determines how “adulting” you are. If you’re one of those people expecting everything to go perfect, your partner (or life) is probably not satisfying you. It’s those people that can laugh at any given moment and be completely comfortable with doing dumb shit that enjoy their time a little more. 

Life lessons are all around us, mine just so happened to be a tie between sex and going to the dentist. However, after listening to my friend talk about their wild adventures, I believe his explanation of catching snakes is just another example of how to deal with life:

“Grab it by the neck and don’t let go.”

[barelylivinblog]

Snowed In

Think about this for a second: you wake up one morning and sneak a peak out your window to see that the snow has covered the ground while you slept. The roads are useless, and most things are closed or cancelled for the day. The slight comfort of being warm in your home with the possibility of a lazy day soothes you, but eventually you’ll need to run an errand or need something small like laundry detergent. You realize everything you take for granted can no longer be easily obtained unless you put more effort into it. For some reason, I always feel this way. Sure, I can relax for a little bit and enjoy the moment, but my mind is always running about the what ifs. There’s a point where staying somewhere too long becomes being trapped somewhere.  The idea of being trapped is one I stay away from. It could be something as simple as committing to plans to go somewhere, and I worry that something will happen that I won’t want to go but now I’m trapped into participating in the event. 

I find this problem happening a lot with other people. I’ve started to catch on that people are needy, and will do anything to receive their needs. I have noticed that people look for their needs in less considerate ways. I won’t say my actions aren’t toxic, but they aren’t fucking anyone up. There are times where I’m with someone and I feel like the doors been boarded up with thick snow. It takes me forever to dig through, and when I do make it through I feel colder than I was when I walked into the room.

Being snowed in can show you who a person really is. It’s that stereotypical plot point made in every “end of the world” story line. The character that breaks is shunned into a death scene or left behind. It’s not right, but it’s easier to deal with. 

It’s easier to be distracted in larger social situations, but when a large group is continuously together, they can get dangerously comfortable with each other. When you feel as if you need to eat lunch with a certain group every day, that’s where comfort turns common. It’s almost like the solution to all problems is similarity, when actually what we all need is to explore more options. I’ve heard the phrase a couple times that insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results. Does that make it fair to say that we’re all a little insane? I see this “insanity” take charge in people, where group members expect the group to fill their needs by continuously coming together and rearranging the same social situations again and again. When the boxes aren’t filled it turns toxic, and the starving desire to be accepted turns people toxic.

Being snowed in can really show who everyone is, especially when pinned up against a blank white canvas. If there’s anything I’ve learned from college it’s that everyone is trying to fit in by standing out, and once you put someone against the empty background, they’ll have nothing to base themselves off of but themselves. The problem with that is after basing yourself off of something, or a group, you get used to the comfort “common” and forget who you are.  So I sit here, staring out my window watching the snow sprinkle from the sky and admire those who haven’t molded to what being snowed in does to people. I think about how I’ve shoveled my way out of situations like that so many times, and now I’m becoming exhausted of it. Sometimes it’s more simple to sit back and watch the snow by yourself than to be trapped with others. I won’t say I trap myself in my thoughts, because when I think to myself it’s me talking to me, and it proves that I haven’t lost myself. If there’s anything I can tell you about college, it’s to never lose sight of who you are, what you want, and who you want to be. The snow will challenge you, and it’s up to you to either plow through or sit back and admire it’s beauty.