When someone compliments you on an off-day.
Example: “I really love what you did with your hair. It looks great today.”
Thoughts in my head: Great today? I just put it into a ponytail. I barely combed it. It looks dry and brittle. Strands are sticking out all over the place. I somehow got some sort of cowlick like Alfalfa from The Little Rascals.
And then: What does it look like on a day when I receive no compliments yet actually put forth some effort?
Having the day off.
It always seems like a good idea at the time: the freedom in general and the freedom to do whatever you want. But then you realize how bored you are, how much you’ve wasted the day away and that you don’t know how to enjoy yourself outside of your daily responsibilities.
Homogeneity.
Homogeneity of any kind, really. Standing in the middle of a big group of bros is as uncomfortable as standing in the middle of a big group of hipsters is as uncomfortable as standing in the middle of a big group of clubheads.
People within the group are not conscious of the fact that they represent some sort of homogeneity and that irritates me. But - and I can finally admit this - I am not a part of that group, or any real succinct group like they are and that too irritates me.
You have a fine of $41.40 for a late return of your library books. There is a hold on your account and you will not be able to graduate until the fine is paid in full.
Fuck.
EDIT: Just paid.
Hearing a really good, really old song for the first time. It’s the realization that you’ve spent such a significant portion of your life without that song or that band as a part of it.
After the burn out, running into someone you once liked. The nervousness, the insecurities, the regret?
I asked my friend, “No but honestly, was I looking good?”
Friend, “I thought you didn’t like him anymore.”
“I don’t. But I need to know…for my own sanity.”
Having unreliable, generally disappointing friends and still relying on them, even though you are cognizant of their personalities and behaviors. It ruins the relationships with the better friends, the truer friends by constantly feeling upset over the unreliable ones.
“Where do you go from here?”
“What are you going to be doing with your life?”
“Where are you going to be working?”
“What are your plans?”
“What happens now?”
I. DON’T. KNOW.
Dog shit on the sidewalk. I know I complain about it a lot but seriously, it needs to stop.
An open letter to people who don’t pick up their dogs crap:
Pick it up! Pick it up you lazy motherfucker. It’s spring. It’s no longer the middle of the winter. The sun doesn’t go down till past 8PM. Don’t be such a lazy fuck and just pick up the shit. You have A DOG. This is not a goldfish.
You’re probably one of those assholes who parade their dog around like a new It Bag and for that I hate you. I really do. I live in a complex that doesn’t allow pets and you parade your dog around like a new Balenciaga and you’re too self-involved and lazy and inconsiderate to pick up your dog’s shit.
I hope your dog gnaws your fingers off in your sleep.
Signed,
That angry woman that yells every other day when she steps in dog shit.
