Left school for the weekend despite being invited to things, events happening, and having work to do, I needed to get away from it all for a little bit. I was doing fine, even considering telling my parents “sorry, I’ll have to come home another time” because of everything that was going on, but then on Thursday I just started feeling…ill.  

I hate that since my life has gotten to the ideal place that I’ve wanted it to be in for awhile, yet I can’t seem to handle it. I have a lot of different friends, I’m an editor on the school paper, and literally just landed my ideal part time job working on an actual, real newspaper. My weight could be better, but I’ve been getting a lot of positive attention for my looks lately, which is definitely weird. I am not at all used to getting compliments based solely on my appearance from strangers. In fact, it pretty much never happened until I got back to college three weeks ago.

This is such an in-between place in life, even more so than high school, I think. In high school you’re still a kid, for the most part you kind of know what your next step will be, and you still live under someone else’s control. In college/around college age (at least for myself and many other people I know), you’re caught in a strange place. You still identify with teenagers and teen culture, you’re not totally financially independent but you’re almost…transitioning into it. You’re in a learning environment, yet many professors will treat you more like an equal than a kid they’re babysitting. You start looking for real jobs, wondering about your career, wondering about if casual dating could become a serious relationship, or maybe not.

It is kind of overwhelming. I’m an adult. I can vote, I do not live with my parents, I have a real job in a real office. Yet I still go to school. I still only can work part-time because of school, so I’m still dependent on my parents financially, yet I no longer have to follow their rules or constantly try to meet their expectations. 

I wonder where I’m going.


I am in such an in-between stage in my life, it’s so strange. Now that my second semester of college is ending, I’m kind of..finished, mentally. I will continue to do all my work and such, but I suppose I’m just sort of..finished.

The way time is passing along, it will be next semester in no time. We’re already picking classes out, I already have a new roommate and room for next year (such an upgrade from my current room, so that’s nice). I just have this weird, anticipatory feeling in my chest that I can’t seem to shake. It’s the feeling of want. I want so many things, and it’s bothering me, because I don’t want to want them.

I want to move on to new classes.

I want to start looking for summer jobs.

I want to expand my friendships.

I want to move into my new room with Aaliyah.

I want to lose the 20 pounds I gained over the past six months (so badly).

I want to have graduated college already and move on.

I want to write something that will get me noticed.

I want to move up in the world.

I want to constantly buy thrifted clothes even though that’s not financially feasible.

I want Alex by my side (so, so badly).

Alex is something I struggle with wanting more than anything else. Sometimes, I feel like I’m the only person who is wishing really badly for another person to be by their side in the middle of the night, but I know I’m not. One visit to tumblr will reveal a whole ocean of people whose other halves or broken ends are floating around out there in other beds.

He’s my biggest in-between of all: we’re so far but so close, and my life seems to be marked off by the days we’re together, and measured by the thin tape that spreads slowly over months that we’re apart. I’ve lost the words on how to make him real when he’s not here.

Rainy Day Mood: Another Stream-of-Consciousness Observation Post

Deciding to take a break from lake of homework and studying I’ve been slowing muddling my way through for the past three and a half hours, I look outside as it starts to rain.

The sprinkle has been building a bit all day, but has now quickly become a typical Florida afternoon downpour. I sit in the corner of the second floor of the library and look at the people twenty feet below me, as the confident, umbrella-toting ones saunter their way to class while the less fortunate students to get caught between buildings make a run for it, pulling hoods over heads and covering papers with their shirts. A group of boys “studying” on the west library patio makes a lot of noise. I am silent besides the sound of my rapid typing and the occasional pen scribbling sound of me writing notes. 

A man confidently rides his bike down the brick sidewalk. He obviously doesn’t mind the rain very much. I love rain, personally. I am looking very cute, but not exactly the most well-dressed for the weather, as I would have liked to sit on the rainy porch and do my work, but my sleeveless shirt and skirt betray me. The temperature has dropped as the rain moved in, making it an unexpected 10 or 15 degrees cooler outside since this morning, when sped-walked to class in my favorite new sandals.  So I stay inside.

The farthest part of the western patio has the best view of the center of campus, with the old, beautiful fountain and what we call the Palm Court, a pentagon of paths leading between two main academic buildings, the library, and the fountain in the center that are lined with tall palm trees. On nice days, lots of people lie out in the grass or in hammocks and enjoy the sun. Today everyone just wants to be inside as quickly as possible. A short girl walks by in a silly looking plastic poncho that looks like it’s made of grocery bags. I smile at her, but she can’t see me.

The rain is beginning to slow; Florida rainstorms rarely last more than a half hour to an hour. It’s enough to thoroughly wet everything and cause flood puddles on the campus green, which becomes overwhelmed with water very easily, being completely flat and whatnot. It was not made to just be an open field of sod grass, it was once the place where the oldest dorm on campus stood. The school tore down the building a couple years ago because it was far out of safety codes, apparently. (My building is from 1893, but nobody is tearing it down anytime soon). So now there is just a nice open green space, which is attractive but easily waterlogged.

Should I eat my second snack? Today for lunch, I got a greek yogurt with honey and granola, and also bought a cup of chopped fruit and a tiny bag of Ruffles as snacks to keep me held over all afternoon. Dinner is in just a bit over an hour, but I’m hungry. Didn’t eat half the fruit because the melons tasted like dirt. Pity.

I think later tonight I’ll post something in regards to my skirt, because I’m incredibly proud of it. Adorable, navy-blue flouncy skirt with a print of small polka dots and alphabet letters. It reminds me of alphabet soup, the way the spots and letters are scattered around. I bought it in New York last summer and am finally now wearing it. 

The rain has stopped, now only trees and ledges drip along with all the hurried footsteps.

Old Friends and New Friends

When I got to college, I had a lot of expectations and ideas that turned out to be different from reality. That is not necessarily a bad thing at all, because it’s only my second semester at this school and I have a close-knit group of female friends. This is something that growing up I never, ever had. I always had one or two close friends and then a slew of school-based acquaintances. Now I’m part of a group of six girls, which is kind of crazy. And for once, I’m not the least important friend. That feels great.

Honestly I’m pretty proud of myself for being able to reach out and make friends. That’s something I never thought I’d be able to do in high school, so it’s kind of like one big stepping stone passed. I have five really cool, different, silly friends that I really love. I also have other friends outside the group, but I could use more of those. I need to not be afraid to introduce myself to people. I had this weird friendship-hungry rush of adrenaline or something the first week of school and was introducing myself left and right. Now that I have a secure friend group going, it’s harder to put forth the effort to meet other people, especially because I really like being alone. Last week and most of this week is going to be spent by myself in the library because I have an overwhelming amount of work to do, a midterm to study for, and a speech to prepare. Anyways.

As for my old friends, I let go of a lot of people when I left high school, but I guess that’s just the way it goes. I still see my oldest and dearest high school friends (who graduated two years before me) from time to time, they’re just those type of relationships that never go stale, even when you all live in different places. Months can pass, and it’s like nothing’s changed. Those types of friends are hard to find, so I’m glad I have a few of those. One of my high school friends who I really only got close to my senior year is still one of my best friends and I’m always really excited to see her. 

Then there are some old friends, one in particular, that I’m not sure what to think about. Our whole friendship we always lived a half hour a part and would go months without seeing each other, but we’d talk on facebook or on the phone every day. Ironically, we now go to the same college and finally live a mere five minutes walk from each other, yet we communicate even less than before. I still love her, but it feels like we have really little in common all of a sudden. We’ve been friends since first grade, yet I feel like the length of our friendship is one of the only things keeping it together. I don’t know if she really cares about me anymore. 

One more thing to mention again: I really would love some more new friends, and internet friends definitely count as real friends. I don’t know almost any of you who follow my blog personally, but I would love to be your friend.

My First Stream-of-Conciousness Post

Okay, here we go. I have actually never written anything in this style before. Sometimes I like reading books this way, though.

My friends are taking seemingly forever to finish their movie. I wish I didn’t have to be that prick who actually needs to lug her ass to the school library to get work done for real. My room is just too distracting for some reason. The library is nice and serene, and I concentrate a lot more on what I’m doing than if I’m lounging in my room. If I’m in my room I’m going to want and sit naked and eat noodles and watch The Office on netflix, and none of those things get me any closer to finishing whatever thing it is I have do tomorrow.

There are so many people constantly coming in and out of this shop. Some of them are acquaintances I guess, but for some reason I have these moods where I’m either super shy and put my headphones in and while I’m in an obvious public place, it’s like I’m hiding. Other times I’m quite extroverted. It’s a constant back and forth, really. The same kind of back and forth that goes on about the thoughts I have on my own body which can fluctuate in positivity (and negativity) literally several times in an hour. It’s ridiculous. Is this because of hormones? Damn everything.  Jesus Christ, I don’t even know if this is actual stream of consciousness or me just typing on and on without actually pausing to think deeply or correct anything. Am I wasting my time? Someone answer this for me.

Everybody here has people with them. I am alone. I must look strange because I am typing furiously and painfully sculpting my facial muscles so I don’t have to constantly display my chronic bitchface to the world. I’m not sure what I want. I don’t want to be in my room right now. I should spend less time in my room, because being in my room only results in me sleeping, not getting anything done, eating too much, or all of the above. I’m not actually doing anything ACADEMICALLY productive right now, but at least I’m not stuffing my fat face with lean cuisines like they’re snacks.

I have to preserve my lean cuisines because I am insanely stupid and spent all my money. I need to actually physically write down a budget or I am going to officially fail at adulthood. Or go into debt. Both. God. My mom said using cash instead of my card would help me spend less, but that doesn’t work for me for some reason. The ease of having the cash on hand just helps it slip through my fingers faster. But on the other hand, with cash I can’t online shop, which is a bad problem of mine. So either way, until I learn control, I’m really screwed.

That’s what I’m going to do this week. As soon as I get my paycheck I’m going to figure out if I can cash it or deposit it here in town, and then I am going to write myself out a budget plan for it because I am a ridiculous idiot who cannot seem to make good financial decisions otherwise. There will be nice, neat little categories for food, gas, and a tiny little one for shopping. There will be special ones too depending on what’s happening that month, like I’ll have to set aside some money to help Alex on our trip and set aside special spending money for New York.

I wish I hadn’t blown through all my money so fast. I almost cried last night because I felt so goddamn stupid. I was spending a lot when I had my card, but not like this. I’m telling you, the cash is making it worse.

These kinds of things make me feel like a failure. All the instances I ever feel like a failure are because I have no control. I cave and spend a bunch of money I shouldn’t. I cave and order food and stuff myself even though I know it’s making me fat. No self control or willpower. Am I stupid?

Generic Coffee Shop Blog Post

I have nothing better to do with my lazy Sunday night then sit in the coffee shop and people watch.

Nothing of relevance happened this week to post about, really. I turned 19. Not to sound cynical, but big whoop. It’s no more or less exciting being 19 than it is 18. I didn’t magically become a little older, a little more beautiful. I did the same BS as I do every other day, every other week. Overate, drove erratically, spent way too much money, cried, procrastinated on homework but managed to get it done by the end of the weekend. Skipped a little more class than usual because of a small mental breakdown on Wednesday night. Regular college stuff, really.

Honestly, I am such a lame-o, generic hipster right now, it is killing me. I’m sitting in a college coffee shop, blogging about my goddamn week as a white girl at a private school on a macbook air, with my lame Ray-ban glasses (which are prescription, thanks for asking; I’d be close to legally blind without these) and my lame hipster canvas backpack with handmade heart pins that say things like “nope” and “babe,” and “just stop,” wearing an outfit that’s entirely thrifted, aside from my shoes, which are TOMS.

If you look at me, I’m scowling the generic hipster mad-about-life, everyone-is-lame-but-me scowl. However, this scowl is not for those reasons. It is for these reasons:

1. It is my natural expression because I have chronic Brooklyn Bitchface. It’s in my genes. Thanks, dad.

2. I am not displeased with the world so much as just myself, and I am definitely the lamest person in this room. It’s super contradictory: I like myself right now, but also I really effing hate myself because good god, I am everything I wanted to be in high school. And that’s gross.

I look so insanely lame I almost can’t even handle it. Yet I continue to sit here and write this like the boring hipster teenager I am because I should be doing better and more interesting things, but I’m not. I could be reading a good book, or actually ordering a goddamn coffee, or watching the movie the rest of my friends are watching. However, I had homework to do, so I skipped the movie and finished a paper in the library (so lame, I am so lame), and now I’m just killing time by looking like an ass in public, texting my boyfriend, and listening to Iron and Wine. Yippee.

What will I do tomorrow? Will I somehow suck less? I’m not sure.

This is what I do know: don’t judge the generic hipster bitch in the coffee shop by her external scowl and weird shoes. She is actually probably a really interesting person under that thick outer layer of nonchalance. She probably really wants to make new friends but is bad at talking to people out of the blue in public places. She knows you’re looking at her with either admiration (because sadly, just like high school Sarah, there are people who want to look like I do now) or disgust because of the stereotype she’s exuding. But she’s not all bad. She has valid opinions, she likes her bagels a certain way, she still knocks on wood when she’s afraid of bad luck, and she’s quietly playing Clash of Clans with her boyfriend while nobody’s looking.

She may look unapproachable, but she’s trying to fix that, too.



I find it funny that the things we want the most, our ideal job, our perfect husband, wife, or friend, our favorite car, are all referred to as dreams, like having a dream job or a dream man. I always find this strange because my goals in life are not something that ever show up in my actual dreams.

My actual dreams are weird, and often awkward. They are very much just my brain trying to organize what’s happened to me that past day, and not so much my ideals of the future. Sometimes, I’ll even dream memories in really good detail. However, dreams are always the past, whether it be a memory of childhood or something that happened an hour before I fell asleep.

So in light of this, I will not be saying things like “dream house” anymore. I will say what I want my career goals to be, however vague or precise. What my goal weight or pants size might be, not my “dream body” (because to be honest, in my dreams I never see myself, except for those few weird pregnancy dreams that I’m definitely not going to go into).

I know this is just me taking the English language too seriously, but nevertheless. Dreams don’t happen, even dreams that are memories are not real, there is always something off about them.

This is me being all weird and introspective for the day. Sorry, guys.

At War With My Own Body

I am rapid-typing this post. That means no proofreading, no thinking, things are just flowing straight from my brain to my fingers and neurons are firing and all sorts of things are happening and it’s because I am in one of these moods where I cannot type nearly as fast as my thoughts are moving and I have so many things pent up inside of me that this happens, this happens every time. So I apologize now for typos and runons. As a journalist and pretty prolific writer, such things usually bother me, but today is not one of those days.

Today was weird in many ways. I feel like my body is out of control. I have the silly notion that my weight is the one thing that is stopping me from being the woman I truly want to be. I am intelligent, and attractive on almost all other aspects (not to sound conceited or anything, but my hair has gotten really healthy and with a good coat of makeup I look quite smashing, aside from the fat face). Being invited to the national college media convention in NYC is skyrocketing my school journalism career and will be introducing me to so many amazing things. These are good things, and I like good things. These are the good things that keep me sane and balanced when I’m on the breaking point, which I am right now.

I truly wish I could just stop eating, but I cannot. I am learning to control myself, but the battle to control my cravings and not overeat is so much harder than I ever thought it would be. And frankly, I cannot go back to bulimia again, purely for the sake of my teeth, which are one of my nice redeemable features after a little whitening and the three years of dental work they went through. The throwing up was destroying them, and of course, killing me. But I can’t help but feel jealous of two years ago me. She was so much lighter.

I feel like I am slowly falling apart. I am hungry for so many things: food, attention, acceptance, likability, money, and mostly definitely food. I am a hungry person. I seem so much more hungry than any of my friends. I want it all to stop. I want it under control. I want my body under control. I want my life under control.

Today I worked out for so long that I burned a few more calories than I ate. I know that it is wrong and while exercise is good for me, I overdid it and pushed it to the brink of being unhealthy. But I cannot help but feel satisfied with myself for pushing that hard. It is sickening how proud I feel. I don’t want that feeling to be there. I want to wake up tomorrow and be skinny without all the physical and mental torture I am suddenly putting myself through.

The weight I’ve gained in college upsets me greatly. I hate it so much and I want my high school body back, as lame as that sounds. I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but if I got back down to that weight again I would never take it for granted. I would never take fitting into my size 5 pants for granted again.

I want to escape.