15 10 / 2014
"Do you think that your 16 year old daughter hasn’t masturbated already? Like, do you really think there’s anything in that scene that this chick hasn’t already tried when the lights go out at night, or in the bathroom, or in the tub, or with the shower head or something like that? I’m telling you, man, I’m not teaching this broad anything new. If I were to create a rating system, I wouldn’t even put murder right at the top of the chief offenses. I would put rape right at the top, and assault against women. Because it’s so insanely overused and insulting how much it’s overused in movies as a plot device, a woman in peril. That, to me, is offensive, yet that shit skates."
30 6 / 2014
30 6 / 2014
19 4 / 2014
This super weird thing happens when your friends start getting married. You stop having things in common with them, because you’re just kinda, ya know, single and being happy, and don’t understand the meticulous nuances of married life.
“You don’t understand, yet. Once you get married, you will,” they tell me, or, “Aw, now, stop. You’re just jealous.”
Actually, I am the absolute antithesis of jealous. I am so thankful I am not currently standing anywhere near that altar, considering, I don’t even have a boyfriend.
Nor do I want one.
I am going to be 24 in a month. My parents got married when they were 23, so I am almost at the age where their ability to relate with my experience expires. It’s super weird – I can’t imagine being married now and going through grad school, let alone having spawn 3 years from now – the age my mother spawned me. I can barely handle being responsible for myself, let alone, a super tiny, fragile, incredibly dependent human with half of my genetic code (or none if I choose to adopt).
“Is there anyone special?”
“Are you sure?”
“So there is someone special?”
“No, I meant ‘yes’ that I was sure that there was no one.”
“Well, when you find the right person, you’ll change your tune.”
The only aspects of marriage that actually attract me is a joint banking account. Doubling the amount of my annual salary – and his – so we can afford a home and cars, and create little, succubus, alien creatures known as children.
But here’s the thing. I need to graduate from grad school. I have a year left, and I’ll be looking for a job. I can’t handle winter anymore, and will be hoping to move back to California. There is little to no point looking for someone to complement me while I still live in Illinois. I’ve met too many people who are happy here, or well established, or are where they want to be, and this place is my hellhole.
There are literally a million things I can think of that I want to do before I ever settle down, and vomit all over myself by turning into my married friends who I have ruthlessly mocked. I want to graduate. I want to see more of the world. I want to move to California. I want to go to Disneyland Paris. I want to reunite with old friends. I want to make new friends. I want to live in a city. I want to foster dogs. I want to continue to date casually. I want to go on a road trip down PCH (Pacific Coast Highway). I want to see the swallows at San Juan Capistrano mission. I want to smell the night blooming jasmine of Los Angeles. The world is too vast for me to want to get married, now. I don’t know how my friends decided they were ready, but I am not.