Hello There!

Brittany’s Rant

Well here we are…rock bottom.  Let the meltdown begin!  We’re a couple of under-positioned college grads who thought we were doing everything right until life went naturally wrong.

Obviously at this point, the only thing for a couple of lowly, twenty-something gals to do is blog about our shortcomings.  As the pathetic and conceited western Millennials that we are, we want to share our thoughts, likes and dislikes, failures and everything else in-between with the world.  We want to be known.  We want to be relevant.  But who could blame us?  We were raised in an egocentric society where bulimics with boob jobs are every little girls aspiration, and people wear glasses simply for the aesthetics (are you kidding me?!).  Let me start off by saying, I wouldn’t touch glasses with a ten foot pole had I not been tainted with eyes so terrible that if Helen Keller took my eyes, she’d sign “nah, I want blackness back.”  When did modern society get so pretentious?  No, this is not rhetorical, I am seriously asking.  WHEN?

In this blog, you will find a cocktail of awkward stories about two girls – one in NYC and one in Dallas – tackling life’s challenges,  weird social disasters, fashion – that normal people can’t pull off, modern love, crazy families, self-esteem issues, and pretty much anything else that pops into our bizarre heads.  Viviana and I have been friends since grade school and we often reminisce about the past and how it has shaped our present.  We make each other chuckle with our highly bizarre, and often absent, social lives while talking about how pop-culture has polluted our social expectations.

I’ve been in my twenties for a few years now, and I have come to the realization that it’s the absolute worst time ever.  Seriously, at twenty-two the only thing I had going for me was being able to belt out that delightfully deep T-Swift tune while thinking, “she gets me.”  Now, at twenty-three I am utterly lost.  Not only do I have no idea where I’m going with my life, but I can hardly remember where the hell I’ve been all this time.

I recently took a train into the city for recreational purposes and after almost missing the train home, then stepping in oatmeal-esque vomit, I was surprised to find that I wasn’t surprised at all.  Is this what I have to look forward to?  Are these the types of situations I think I deserve?  I had a completely different outlook on my future in high school and I can’t help but look back on those days and think, “you little fool.  Of course you’re going to fail at being a self-sustaining adult.  Of course you’re going to gain fifteen pounds.  You’re not invincible.  You should’ve been more prepared!”

I could cast the blame of my misfortunes on everything and everyone around me; Oh it’s just how it is nowadays.  My parents really fucked me up.  Society won’t allow a person like me to do what I want.  The truth is, yes.  These things are huge hurdles in life but you see people jump over them and succeed all the time.  My problem?  I am terrified.  I am terrified of everything.  I’m terrified that I’m not educated enough to make certain decisions.  I’m terrified that if I take a big step, I will fail.  I’m terrified of life.  I’m terrified of change.  It’s not hard to find fear and self-doubt in my eyes.  I know I walk with my head down all too often.  I know  I can be a better me.  My question is: HOW?

 

Viviana’s Tirade

The other day I tried to remember where I thought I would be at twenty-three, when I was eighteen.

I had no recollection.

This is very unlike me. I have a pretty stellar memory. I remember my friend’s college roommate’s birthday and I only met her twice. (It’s August 11th by the way. I know you were dying to know.)

I couldn’t decide if the fact that I had no general thought at eighteen of where I would be at twenty-three was comforting or sad. On the bright side, I didn’t let myself down.  On the down side, I haven’t made myself proud. But who cares what eighteen year old me thought my plans should or shouldn’t be? What did she know? Not much more than I do currently to be quite honest, but I am a firm believer in starting a new life whenever you want. Right now, I am up to my eyeballs in the worst year I have ever had in my life (short version involves: unemployment,  a totaled car and a brutal blow to the closest “dream” I could actually achieve), but what if tomorrow I take a step towards a new life?

The worst part about wanting to change your life is, many times, there is no ‘A’ for effort. I attempt to change my life probably more frequently than the average person. I am a firm believer that any day could be the first day of your new life. This perhaps stems from my growing up in a household where constantly improving oneself was considered an absolute crucial personality trait to have. The ratio of self-help books to people in my household is approximately 25 to 1.

I’m not a firm believer in plans, but I am a firm believer in change. This is the seed I want to plant with this blog. I will not deny I am the poster child of a quarter life calamity. I am broke, directionless, a constant wrong decision maker, underemployed, and generally pathetic. But one small deviation from my current life could make me less calamitous, right?

So today, my small deviation is holding myself accountable for things I want to do. I want to write this blog. I want to look into my options. I want to make some big decisions – or at least decide which big decisions I should be making. Imagine if at twenty-five, when I actually hit my quarter life (we have all accepted that modern medicine is going to make living to 100 easy, right?), I can think back to myself at twenty-three and imagine that this version of me would be a little prouder or a little happier.

I’ve got the ‘what’ and ‘why’ pretty firmly down, but it’s the ‘how’ that seems a little nebulous. Perhaps that’s where you come in. The figurative and literal you. The literal you is going to be my fellow blog co-author Brittany, who likes to remind me, “On the upside, this is probably the worst life could get at this point, so it has to get better…right?” She will hold me accountable for the small deviations I’ve declared above. (I haven’t asked her yet, but I have a good feeling she would be in. It doesn’t take much effort and I’ve known her since I was eight.) The figurative you, this misshapen heap of digital clay that will hopefully resemble something of substance, will be my proof. Feel free to use me the same way. I’ll hold you accountable in your deviations. The big goals are easy to think up, it’s the small steps that seem to be the hardest.

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