Question 2: If you could erase a horrible experience from your past…


So, I’m starting a blog series where I answer random questions. It’s like those questionnaires I love so much, except with actual writing instead of fill-in-the-blanks. Feel free to play along at home by answering the question in the comments or by submitting a question.  Hopefully this is fun! Question 1 can be found here.

You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

Ok, so my life has been pretty average. There have been awful, awful things but I know how blessed I am.

That being said, I refuse to fall into the “I wouldn’t change anything because each experience has come together to shape who I am as a person” cliche, because, while it may be true, it is absolutely no fun and not in the spirt of  the game.

*Trigger Warning: Bullying*

I think the memory I’d most want to erase would be from my 6th grade year. I know, I know, middle school drama! But there were these two horrid boys who would bully me so badly that I actually became afraid to go anywhere without a friend. That’s the kind of memory I could live without.

Ultimately, one moved away and I punched the other one in the face, so things worked out alright. But it was a rather harrowing time for little me and whatever “growth” I experienced, I would willing exchange for never having to think about that part of my life again.




Tired of the cliches…



(I’m relating to Paramore songs ironically now…I think I’ve reached a new low)

I’m 2460done with this school and this town and this year. I’ve been trying to finish my senior project and still keep up with my community college classes. I’ve been trying to deal with the weird shifts in relationship dynamics. And I’m trying to prepare both mentally and physically for moving across the continent this summer.

I kinda broke up with my best friend (is that what it’s called? Break-up seems like the closest term…). It hurt (hurts) like hell. I don’t know about her, but I’ve seen this coming for a long time. I mean, we’re still “friends”, I guess, but it’s just different. We both said some really hurtful things. After all, only those who truly know you can get under your skin. I suppose reconciliation is possible, and might even be what she wants, but I’ve lost the ability to want to fight for it. Some friendships aren’t made to last forever, I guess.

The thing that bugs me the most is how “teen movie” it all is. Is that wrong of me? Maybe, but I can’t shake my hang-up with fulfilling tired cliches. I know they’re called cliches for a reason. Even so…it’s ridiculous!

One of the things my friend called me out on was my ego- that my world was the “ME” show, with everyone else relegated to secondary characters. She was right, in a way. I suppose this blog is a prime example of that. You see everything from my perspective. Every story I tell is filtered through the lens of my personal perspective. You don’t  know anything about my friends or their stories that I don’t tell you. And by translating my experiences into a personal narrative, I do make it all about myself. On this blog, I’m the title character, and it’s weird to think about.

But really, isn’t the whole of the human experience simply a translation of events into personal narratives? It’s how we make sense of chaos and establish our place in the world. Whether storytelling around the fire or posting an anecdote on Twitter, we’re all just faceless voices shouting into the void, wanting to be heard, to matter.

And now I’m descending into the deep depths of over the top analysis of my own thoughts, so I’ll call it a night.

BEDA failure


I found out that I was accepted to my dream college, and proceeded to spend the last few days in reckless celebration. I forgot about my commitment to my dear, neglected mistress…this blog.

A month or two ago, I received a rejection letter from my other top pick college, and I wrote a post:

“How the hell do I deal with this?????

Sorry, that makes no sense. Let me provide some context.

I’ve never really been hurt in a relationship. some would say that’s because I have commitment issues, others would say I’m heartless. Whatever. The long and the short of it is, I don’t know what it feels like to break up with someone. Or at least, to have a tragic break-up with someone.

But I think it has to feel a little like what I’m going through right now. It’s so stupid. I mean, in the long run, it probably doesn’t matter.  I got a rejection letter from my one of my top two colleges, and I don’t know…it’s like I can breath. I just…I could really see myself there, you know?It’s been my dream for so long, and even though I knew I was under-qualified, I still hoped.

I’m crying even as I write this. I feel like an idiot. There’s that little voice of self-doubt saying “What if you don’t get in anywhere? Why are you even going to college? You’re too stupid. A college would have to be desperate to accept you.”  Usually, that wouldn’t bother me. Right now, though, it just feels true.

All my friends are getting acceptance letters, and I just feel so lost. I don’t know what to do. So far, I’ve been wait-listed for one school and rejected by another.  And I just wish I had some semblance of a plan. It’s not like I have community college as a fall-back. I’ll already have my AA.”

Rereading it now, I feel silly and relived. I guess that sometimes we get so caught up in the moment that we forget about the bigger picture. Sometimes, things don’t work out like we expect them to. But the failure of one plan can mean the fruition of another (even better) plan.

I got into a school that really is a much better fit for me. It’s located in close proximity to my dream city, and it has every single one of the majors I’m considering. In addition, it all came with a very generous financial aid package. I’m so excited that I can hardly keep from packing already!

Thank you to those of you who read this blog. I love each and every one of you, and appreciate the time that you invest reading these posts. I’m going to finish celebrating. Until tomorrow…


How will we escape from this labryinth?


Black tea is Azerbaijan's national drink

There’s this soft peace that can only happen after you’ve cried. After you’ve sobbed good and hard, your chest heaving and little gasping noises escaping your throat as you struggle to remember how to breathe, after everything you feel has been poured out of you in a flood leaving you empty and pure and clean. This peace isn’t happiness or contentment. It isn’t bitter. Sometimes it’s silent, sometimes it’s the sound of Fleet Foxes and Iron & Wine and Stars, or the soothing backtrack of your favorite film.

It’s a little like anesthesia. It numbs some of the pain and doubt, and for a few minutes, you can just be. It’s not forever. It’s an intermission. But for 15 minutes, there’s no nauseous or gnawing fear. It’s not that you feel worthwhile, it’s that you know that nothing is, not your problems or insecurities or fights. Nothing gold can stay, nothing copper or silver or bronze. All fades to rust, and you feel like the book of Ecclesiastes.

And somehow you find hope in this message of hopelessness, or, if not hope, at least strength enough to get up from your sepulcher of pillows and blankets to make yourself a cup of tea. And you drink your tea, and you get back to the job of living.

Questions 1: Do you have any strange phobias?


So, I’m starting a blog series where I answer random questions. It’s like those questionnaires I love so much, except with actual writing instead of fill-in-the-blanks. Feel free to play along at home by answering the question in the comments or by submitting a question.  Hopefully this is fun!

I have several strange phobias, although, to be honest, there are few fears that aren’t at least a little strange. I won’t list all my fears, because I have some dignity (*cough* pride *cough*). Here are some of my strangest ones, though”

  • Llamas- I hate them and fear them in equal measure. When I was a kid, I was tackled by a llama at a petting zoo and it took 4 grown men to get me free. Llamas are evil, guys. They send out hit squads. My llama phobia is so bad that I had to bury my head in my friend’s shoulder during a car trip when we passed a llama farm tp keep from crying. Llamas = baaaaad news.
  • Elevators- During the late 90’s/early 2000’s, Disney Channel came out with so many made-for-TV movies, especially around Halloween. I wasn’t supposed to watch the Halloween movies. But my older cousins, Trina and Lindsay, loved them. They called me a baby for not watching them too. So, one day, I decided I was going to see one of these “grown-up” movies. I’m a little ashamed that one Disney Channel movie was enough to make me forever afraid of elevators. I’m sure if I watched that movie today, I’d laugh. The damage is down, however. I’ve learned my lesson. Elevators are like moving sarcophagi. You are lucky to emerge alive.
  • Mascara- I was given a forceful make-over in middle school by some well-intentioned girls. However, after their repeated attempts to blind me with mascara, there is no way in hell I am willingly putting that stuff near my eye sockets.

Also statues, but that’s a Doctor Who thing…

There are probably more, but those are the ones that come to mind. How bout you? Any weird or quirky secret fears?


The Best of 2012

2012 (film)

No, not THAT 2012

We’re ooo close to kissing 2012 good-bye and welcoming in 2013 with open arms.

So what’s the best way to remember a year? “In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee? In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?” Oh wait, that’s from Rent…

I’m a fan of lists, so here are lists of some of my favorite things in 2012. Not all of these things came out in 2012, but they were all significant to me over the course of this year :


  • The Fault in Stars by John Green
  • Where’d You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple
  • The Harry Potter Series by J.K Rowling
  • Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
  • This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Honorable Mentions: Save Me the Waltz by Zelda Fitzgerald,One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Why We Broke Up by Daniel Handler, The 13 Clocks by James Thurber, Divergent by Veronica Roth, On the Road by Jack Kerouac, A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin, The Magicians by Lev Grossman, Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, Seraphina by Rachel Hartman, and Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh.


  • Moonrise Kingdom (2012)
  • The Hunger Games (2012)
  • The Avengers (2012)
  • Lost in Translation (2003)
  • 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

Honorable Mentions: Marie Antoinette (2006), Jesus Christ: Superstar (1973), V for Vendetta (2006), The Cabin in the Woods (2012),

Movies that came out this year that I want to see (but haven’t yet): Anna Karenina, The Hobbit, Cloud Atlas, Life of Pie, Vamps, Looper, Beasts of the Southern Wild


  • BBC’s Sherlock
  • Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2002)
  • Doctor Who
  • Community
  • 30 Rock

Dishonorable mention/guilty pleasure: Gossip Girl ( I hate me too)



  • Bob Dylan
  • Amanda Palmer
  • Haim
  • Mountain Goats
  • Tom Milsom


  • “Time to Run” Lord Huron
  • “Every Single Night” Fiona Apple
  • “A Tour in Italy” Bandaid
  • “Sad Dream” Sky Ferreira
  • “Thrift Shop” Macklemore

Let’s rock 2013!

You know you love me. XOXO, Ifimjuliet (Just kidding!)

What is the what


Sometimes, when I’m stressed or emotional, I’ll  listen to Ke$ha. There is no logical reason for this. There’s just something kinda cathartic about the shallow lyrics, repetitive choruses, and the fact that each song is about 85% electronic. I don’t get it. It’s really embarrassing, and it’s not something I’d admit if put on the spot.

But this is what my life looks like right now…

Scene:  A girl sits alone on the floor of a typical suburban bedroom. She is surrounded by piles and piles of books, papers, binders, notebooks, and note-cards.  Colorful college brochures are scattered here and there, like wounded birds, half buried beneath dirty laundry and a smattering of glasses and bowls. In front of her is a computer that has seen better days. The girl herself is a haggard-looking 18 year old with a short pixie cut that looks more like a bird’s nest than hair.  She wears leggings, a crumpled t-shirt advertising some nerdy (yet vaguely mainstream) TV show, and over-the-ear headphones. She is seated criss-cross applesauce, and is shoveling chocolate pudding into her face. She is teary in a way that would make her mascara run, if she ever had the time or energy to figure out how to put on mascara (also if she wasn’t terrified of mascara, but that’s another story…).

Girl (crying and singing at the same time): “Stephen, why won’t you call me? I’m sitting here waiting. Why won’t you call me? Stephen, I’m feeling pathetic. I can’t take rejection. Why won’t you call me?”  (breaks into sobs, stops singing) Ke$ha’s right I am pathetic. I don’t even know who Stephen is, but he’ll never call. Why would he? I hate my life. Why am I such a loser?! (shovels more pudding into her mouth) Why would any college ever accept me, if Stephen won’t even call?!?

The girl stops, thinks for a moment, and shakes out of it.

What am I talking about??? I don’t even know any Stephens! I have like 5 papers to do before tomorrow. Come on! I’m an intelligent, independent woman. I’ve got this. Focus! I should just st0p listening to this cra…oh no (as she goes to click the mouse, the song changes. She bursts into ears again and starts singing) “I’m dancing with tears in my eyes, just fighting to get through the night. I’m losing it (cries harder) looosing it, loosing iit. With every move I die” (she stops singing, and wipes at her eyes)I can’t even…(sobs)

Lately,there has been a lot of Ke$ha in my play queue.

Why I’m a feminist


This is not your regularly scheduled programming. In fact, this post should not  be necessary.  But I have received a number of distasteful comments (which I’ve deleted) and been heckled in real life, soooo… yeah. Time to blog.

May I start out by saying 1. This is not the definitive post on this subject. Other people know much more than me. I’m just explaining my position. 2. This is written by a white cis female. I speak for myself, because that’s who I know.

Get it? Got it. Good.

Here is what I believe about feminism:

  • I am strong and independent. My sexuality is exactly that- mine. Being empowered does not = male, anymore than being weak=female.
  • I have the right to decide whether or not to have sex. If I don’t consent, that’s not me being coy. That’s me using my right to say no. Forcing someone to have sex with you isn’t “giving ’em what they really want”. It’s rape, and that’s a crime. Joking about rape is not funny. Ever.
  • I’m not property. I don’t mind if you find me attractive but ogling, cat calls, or asking for a piece of “dat ass” are all inappropriate ways of expressing your attraction.
  • Yes, I call myself a feminist. No, that doesn’t mean I hate men. “Feminism” could totally be replaced with the term “equality” by my understanding of it. It isn’t about  destroying men, it’s about destroying a patriarchal treatment of issues like  wages, birth control, and objectification.
  • Being a feminist also doesn’t mean that I eschew fashion, don’t shave my legs, burn my bras, or whatever (although, just for the record, if you do those things, it’s a-okay too). I do believe that all of those things can be seen to represent a kind of oppression of female sexuality, but I also believe that if you enjoy them/they make you feel beautiful, you should have at it. On a related note, I also think societal beauty standards are a joke. Your body is beauty. Thin, heavy, short, tall…you are gorgeous. Embrace that!
  • I’m not anti-marriage or anti-family. I’m anti-domestic  violence/ “a woman’s place is in the kitchen” and pro-women having a choice as to what having a family means/being able to still having a career and a life. Does that count?
  • I don’t believe in chivalry. I believe in common courtesy. My feminism doesn’t give you the right to be an ass anymore than it gives me a right to be a chauvinist.

There. I just wanted to hash that out. Everything I’ve just addressed should be common sense, but…apparently not.