Thoughts On Home

Well, it took longer than I thought for me to stop updating this regularly, but, alas, it appears I have finally succumbed to the business that is “real life.” In between studying, working on projects and grudging through papers, I managed to escape home for President’s weekend, progress towards study abroad decisions and start my internship. I was going to write while at home, but….yeah. Whoops.

So. Home. Do many college students who study away from home feel really weird when visiting for a weekend or during breaks? I’m not sure how to describe it. But I shall try.

 “It just doesn’t feel like I’m a part of your life, I feel like I’m on vacation.”–Jacob, Like Crazy

This quote from that disappointing movie, said by Jacob while visiting his girlfriend who’s been deported to England, resonates with me.  At first, before I leave and for the first few hours/days I’m home, there’s this sense of excitement and relief. “Phew. This is much better. Being home is sooo wonderful. School is ruining me!” This feeling of having “escaped” school and, consequently, “real life” is great. I quickly fall back into old routines of how things were before I left. The refrigerator is stocked with everything that I love, my room is virtually how I left it (except for my closet filled with my mother’s clothes. Thanks.), and my dog is as cute as ever <3. I even get to sometimes visit friends who live at home, and it’s literally as if I had never left. As if weeks or months hasn’t separated us at all.

These feelings of relief tend to diminish towards the half-way point of me being home and before going back to school. “Wait. This isn’t real. I don’t live here anymore. What am I doing? This is no longer my life. Am I happy about that?” This is about when the panicking starts to make its way to the surface. The impermanence of the situation begins to consume me. I begin an mental countdown to the day that I leave again, preventing me from really enjoying myself in the present. All I think about is how the comfort of being at home is never going to last for a long period of time ever again. Then comes the thoughts of “Well, you wanted this. You wanted out. You NEEDED to get out of here, to go off on your own.” I become increasingly irritable, separating myself even more than I already am from my family. By the time I’m boarding the train back to DC I’m almost relieved. “Why did I even want to go home in the first place? Those people are out of their minds.” Then, about one month later, I’m back at home repeating this clearly healthy cycle.

As much as I want to be on my own, to break from the convenience of home and the easiness of familiarity, maybe I’m not fully ready for a complete break. Which scares me. There are a lot of personal reasons for why I left, reasons that are validated each time I return for a visit, yet I’m still not able to be completely happy while away. Which makes me think that maybe I’m just not going to be happy wherever I’m living.

Pleasant thoughts.

So. Back to school. I just started my internship with USAID today, and I can see already that this is going to consume my semester. I’m not really complaining, since this is what I wanted, what I planned for. I really need to not screw this up, since this is the place I may end up deciding I want to work for, I don’t know, the rest of my life. But, again, confidence will probably never be something I possess. So, no pressure. The great thing about this is, outside the valuable experience, I will have virtually zero time for anything else besides this and schoolwork.  Naturally I get excited when I have excuses for not doing anything fun or having any kind of social life. I’m hoping this will help me think less about certain things and certain people, and allow me to focus and prioritize. I barely have time to study now, let alone Facebook stalk relax. Plus, I gotta start my study abroad applications to Ghana and Uganda. My parents are not pleased. Whateves.

So, hopefully I’ll be able to maintain a somewhat frequent schedule on here. I’ve also decided to include songs at the end of all my posts from now on, just songs that I love at the moment or are relevant. I’ve had “Rainbow Connection” stuck in my head for pretty much months now, and with the Dixie Chicks covering it, there’s no way for me to not love it. I’m really obsessed with these lyrics. I also recommend Jason Mraz’s version!




Arrested Development. Aka Crap! Big Week!

Well, it’s Saturday night, and you know what that means, right? If you guessed, “Matthew’s doing laundry!!” then congratulations!! You’re starting to figure out just how lame I am!

Anyway, I thought I’d take the hour necessary for my clothes to dry to ramble write about something that is becoming increasingly worrisome: I’m not going to be a teenager much longer.

This thought shouldn’t really trouble me. It’s not as if I’ve cared about doing “teenagery” things before.  “Alcohol?! Yuck! Where’s that hot chawcolate at?!” “Drugs?! You mean like my sinus infection medication?!” “Football? No way. TENNIS!!” “Sex?? EWWWWW!!” “Party? Will puppies be there?!”

As you can see, I’m a really fun d00d. But in all seriousness, I’m beginning to realize that I really went about “growing up” wrong. I haven’t appreciated the freedoms being this young offers. These are the years when doing something really crazy and just plain stupid isn’t extremely unacceptable. You can look back and think, “Well, I was 16! That’s the only excuse necessary to explain how much of an asshole I was!” But nope. I can honestly say that I haven’t done anything seriously reprehensible ever. Never been drunk (I’ve attempted and failed on a few occasions), never done anything really sleazy, never been pulled over by the police (I guess a Prius with a bumper sticker reading “I Love Otters” isn’t really seen as a threat).

The worst thing I’ve probably done involved 4th of July 2010, some friends, some marshmallows, trespassing at an elementary school, running away from a security guard, a high speed chase, and getting caught after the questionable decision of returning to the scene of the “crime.” I’ll save that story for my upcoming “Embarrassing Moments” post. Get ready!

I’d say all this really started to hit me in the months leading up Summer 2011. My best friend and I collaborated on a “To Do List” of activities for us to accomplish. Some of these “activities” definitely reflected our mutual desire to act as ridiculous as possible, since, you know, I’ve done nothing fun ever. For your enjoyment, here’s a few excerpts from that list:

  • MARSHMALLOW WAR! Buy Marshmallow gun. PAINT MASKS! (those words were in caps on the list. This is also one of the few things (minus the paint) that actually happened).
  • TEEPEE somebody’s house
  • Go to Justin Bieber concert (ha! #NeverSayNever)
  • Hey Arnold Marathon!
  • Drawing party/competition. WITH BLINDFOLDS!
  • Learn magic tricks and put on a show for all our “fans.”
  • “glow stick/rave party in someone’s yarrrrd. Dig it.”
  • Water balloon fight!! (Take a guess at which one’s my pile.)
  • GET ARRESTED!! By any means necessary. (but only for one night).

This list is a clear indication that I really wanted to be a stupid teenager for pretty much the first time in my life. Too bad most of that list wasn’t accomplished. Especially the getting arrested part. Tried hard for that one!

While I may not have aspired to do anything conventional teenagers valued (like having a life), that certainly doesn’t mean I’m ready for adulthood. I’d say the only “adult” thing about me is my work ethic and prioritization skills. I’m definitely not a procrastinator when it comes to getting school-related things done. Outside of my little academic bubble, well….not as commendable.

I recently read an article about arrested development, an idea that can be summed up as fearing or avoiding growing up.  “Escape is the enemy of responsibility.” This is the line that struck me the most. The author lists off a few indicators that correspond to this “escape” or arrested development. Here are a few of these indicators and how the apply back to me:

  • COMMITMENT: I’ve broken a few promises over the years, most minor, a few pretty bad. I promised my father last Thanksgiving that I would spend the day with him and his side of the family, but I decided to stay at home with my mother, the safer route.
  • COMPLETION: I’ve started and stopped something a few too many times, including, but not limited to, playing the piano and violin, playing soccer, baseball (not apologizing for that), I’ve left various volunteering positions just because I felt like it. Tennis, which has been one of my few constants, has been pushed aside. I always justify it with “All of that gets in the way of school! Can’t let anything distract me from that!!” Yikes.
  • CONSISTENCY: I’m alright on this one.
  • CONFRONTATION: This is a big one. I avoid confrontation more than anything else, to the point of hanging up on someone if the conversation starts going south, or literally jumping into my car and driving away if things aren’t going well at home. Which is often.
  • COURAGE: Well…just read my last post.
  • COMMUNICATION: see above.

There’s a few other indicators, but these are the ones that apply to me the most. So basically, when it comes to the qualities that matter in an adult, I’d say I posses about 29% of them.

I’ll focus a bit more on confrontation for the remainder of this post. This week I have to decide where I’m studying abroad. This is what I was looking forward to the most in the years leading up to college. Traveling is my favorite thing to do, so getting to do it for a whole semester sounded like the greatest thing ever. I had this idea that I’d be in Paris, learning French and becoming the most “cultured” person EVER in the history of the world. As I started becoming interested in international development, the developing world became my focus. Sorry, Paris. Right now I’ve narrowed it down to a few places in Africa (Uganda, Ghana, Madagascar, Senegal). After deciding on what college to go to, this is probably the hardest decision I’ve had to make. All these options have their appeal, and they’re obviously equally unconventional, and it’ll probably come down to which program has the most appropriate courses.

On top of this decision, I’m also starting my internship with the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) on Monday. This is absolutely my dream internship, since working there in the future is what I’d love to potentially do. So getting to experience what that would be like now is really amazing. But, I’m starting to get panicky over it. I don’t know as much as I’d like about the agency or what I’ll be doing. Confidence, as I’ve mentioned, is not something I possess. I know I’ll feel overwhelmed and out of place, fearing that they’ll regret hiring me pretty soon after meeting me. So….crap.

Like most times when things start getting overwhelming for me at school, I run back home to Long Island for a few days. Since I’m so consistent and a fan of escaping, I’ll be going home next weekend. I’m hoping this will be good for me, to just decompress a bit. Regardless, at least my mother will be pleased.

So yeah. Turning 20? Not as excited about that as I had been previously. I need to get my act together. I can’t keep avoiding the important decisions. The years of being able to make excuses and getting away with stupidity are coming to an end.

There’s probably a reason why Finding Neverland is my favorite movie:

[I found out while writing this that Whitney Houston died. Oh my God. So unbelievably sad. Such a beautiful woman. What a shame.]

The Defining Word

You know those times when you eat a slice of pizza and quickly realize that it’s the greatest thing you’ve ever tasted, that no other sane action exists besides consuming 17 more slices? Well, that’s what happened on my last post. Amy Poehler/Leslie Knope is probably the most delicious slice of pizza I’ve ever come across. So I just had to have more. And apparently I felt the need to regurgitate her back onto all of you. Sorry!!

If that disgusting analogy didn’t scare you off, then be prepared for something even more ridiculous. I’m about to quote freakin’ Naomi Campbell to introduce this post about something I’m sure everyone struggles with: Getting out of your own way.

“Anger is a manifestation of a deeper issue…and that, for me, is based on insecurity, self-esteem and loneliness”–Campbell

I’ve come to the realization that one word, insecurity, is the defining issue that I face on a daily basis.  It is what prevents me from doing everything I want to and being who I want to be.

Most people, when first meeting me, probably come to the conclusion that I’m the least intimidating person in existence. I laugh a lot, I’m extremely self-deprecating, sarcastic, and generally not offensive in any way. I make a conscious effort to not bother anybody or piss anyone off. In fact, I really don’t speak much at all.  I’m so concerned about how people view me that I don’t really let anyone know me at all.  I’m the awkward, puppy-loving, non-confrontational spoiled kid with wild hair who has everything he wants, right?

That’s how I present myself to the world, so why should I expect to be treated any differently? Why should I act surprised when I become the butt of many of my friend’s jokes, or complain when a random homeless person accosts me for money or puts my earphones in his mouth (true story)? I guess vulnerability just oozes from my pores.

I don’t try to change things. I maintain the status quo, fearing that doing anything differently would eliminate any appeal that I have to my few friends. If I don’t express my love for fat, wrinkly puppies, my love for Celine Dion and Maria Sharapova, or constantly make fun of myself, what is left to like about me?

I’d say this picture about sums me up.  My love for my dog is at an extremely inappropriate high level, and my love for dogs is in no way an exaggeration. But is it normal for me to love dogs and animals more than most people?

Look at that ridiculous smile! I’m constantly amazed at how unbelievably crazed ecstatic I appear in most of my pictures. I look at myself and can’t believe I’m capable of conveying so much joy. I blame my freakishly large cheeks. The bastards!

This is the face that I show the world. It’s as if my body is unconsciously making me appear as exuberant as possible. Maybe it’s because for those few seconds that the picture is being taken, smiling is the accepted, expected behavior.

I can make a list of all the things that insecurity renders me or keeps me from being/doing. High up on that list would be forming relationships. I didn’t even have actual friends until my junior year of high school, friends I saw outside of the classroom.  I put zero effort into it, claiming to be 100% devoted to academics as my major excuse. I told myself that I didn’t need anybody. I even felt good knowing that instead of wasting my weekends going out and being social, I was getting assignments done days, even weeks early. It virtually took me being dragged out of my house one night in 11th grade that brought me some of the beautiful friends I have now.

Things didn’t change much in college. Once again, I didn’t put any effort into forming friendships, this time literally being dragged out one night to celebrate a birthday. And that was only because I had the luck of leaving my room to do laundry at the time that everybody was out in the hallway getting ready to go. In that moment I thought, “Well, if I’m ever going to have friends, this is my one opportunity.” The point is, the friends I have today came without any actual effort on my part.

When those rare moments come when I come across somebody who I actually want to know or be friends with, insecurity prevents that. So I settle for “liking” the occasional Facebook status, letting fear get in the way of doing what I want to do.

Insecurity is what keeps me silent in class. It’s what keeps me from vocalizing any opinion. It’s what leaves me with zero confidence. It’s what makes most of my closest relationships end up being with TV characters. And my dog.  It’s what kept me from telling my friends and family that I’m gay (Still haven’t told most of my family. Only told my dad because he asked. On the phone.). It’s what makes me never expect anything good to happen to me, and to question the good when it sometimes comes my way. Getting into the college that I go to, being selected for my dream internship with USAID, getting a 3.94 GPA last semester. My initial excitement is soon replaced with thoughts like, “What were they thinking? Why would they accept me? It’s definitely because they didn’t have to meet me in person first.”

“I’m only great on paper.” That’s probably what I think the most and that’s what I tell people. My resume, that first impression of me might be amazing, but when you look behind the words and the transcripts, you realize there isn’t much to be impressed with.

Like Campbell (probably the first and last time I’m going to start a sentence with those words), I am angry. I’m angry that I can’t be content with who I am. I’m angry that I don’t try to be close with people I should be close with. I’m angry that life is passing me by as I sit in my single room (roommates? Yeah right.), wishing to be with other people, but unable, unwilling to do it. I’m angry that I know what I want but lack the courage to try.

I know I need to figure out where this insecurity came from, when it started, why it started. You can’t come to a solution without knowing the cause(s). You can’t determine the cause without putting in some effort.

Hopefully some day soon I’ll get on that.

Everybody Pants Now!!

Well, I promised less depressing, and today I shall deliver!!! If anyone hasn’t witnessed the beauty that is NBC’s Parks and Recreation, then…you’re dumb in luck!! I rummaged through numerous YouTube clips to share a few of my favorite scenes from the show, just to give you guys a taste of what you can expect. If you hate Amy Poehler (and joy/laughter), you may as well leave now. Cause you’re about to feel the whiplash of both!

Here’s Leslie Knope (Poehler) drunk. If I were to ever be inebriated, I hope I handle it as gracefully as her:

Leslie consuming a lot of sugar:

Here’s Leslie really pissed off. This is how I respond to many situations as well:

Leslie pissed off even more, this time over misuse of waffles. Replace the waffles with pizza and I can definitely relate:

The aftermath:

An example of Leslie’s numerous and ridiculous accents:

Leslie’s womanly roar (one of my all-time favorites)

Leslie, Queen of the Gays! (another favorite)

Leslie’s bad dates:

One of the most uncomfortably fantastic moments ever:

Alright. I think I may have gone a little overboard with the amount of clips posted. But I really just couldn’t control myself. As an added bonus, here’s a sample of the other equally fantastic characters on the show:

Ron fucking Swanson. Quite possibly the coolest character ever created. He hates a lot of things. Like taxes. But has a beautiful heart.

This is Ann, Leslie’s best friend. So awkward. Which is why I love her.

Tom and Donna, a fantastic friendship duo. Treat yo self!!

Andy. So dumb. So lovable. Like most of this show.

April. The most passive aggressive character ever. Which is why I love her.

This is Jerry. Probably the character I relate to the most.

Chris. His body is a micro-chip.

Ben. Another guy I relate to.

Well, if you managed to watch every single one of these clips and are still not convinced that this show should be watched, then you probably don’t have a soul. So go find it before Thursday at 8:30 EST!

Have a wonderful day.

Top Of the World

I feel the need to explain the meaning behind the name of my blog, since I’m sure that the two of you who will ever read this are extremely interested.

If you couldn’t tell from my first two posts, I’m just a burst of sunshine. Seriously, after this post, I’m actually going to put in some effort to not come off as the most depressing person alive. But just bear with me one last time (Disclaimer: This probably won’t be the last time I’m depressing).

Most of you who know me are aware of my love for the Dixie Chicks. I guess I’m a fan of extremely talented, kinda bitchy, powerful ladies with beautiful voices and harmonies. Sorry. Is it strange for a 19 year old male from Long Island to be obsessed with an all-girl country band? Perhaps. But if my alternative is Waka Flocka Flame and Katy Perry, I’m not gonna feel bad about it. I should just move to a different state.

Anyway, “Top of the World” is a cover from their 2002 fantastic album Home. Seriously. Buy this album. Every single song on it is wonderful. Take a listen:

For those of you who are interested in hearing it performed by the woman who first wrote/recorded the song, here’s Patty Griffin. Equally amazing.


I wished I was smarter
Wished I was stronger
I wished I loved Jesus
The way the my wife does      (not my favorite two lines of the song)

I wished it’d been easier
Instead of any longer
I wished I could’ve stood
Where you would’ve been proud
That won’t happen now
That won’t happen now

There’s a whole lot of singing
That’s never gonna be heard
Disappearing every day
Without so much as a word

I think I broke the wings
Off that little songbird
And she’s never gonna fly
To the top of the world Now
To the top of the world

I don’t have to answer
Any of these questions
Don’t have no god to
Teach me no lessons

I come home in the evening
Sit in my chair
One night they called me for supper
But I never got up
I stayed right there
In my chair

There’s a whole lot of singing
That’s never gonna be heard
Disappearing every day
Without so much as a word

I think I broke the wings
Off a little songbird
And she’s never gonna fly
To the top of the world
To the top of the world

I wished I’d had known you
Wished I had shown you
All of the things I
Was on the side
But I’d pretend to be sleeping
When you’d come in in the morning
To whisper goodbye
Go work in the rain
I don’t know why
Don’t know why

Cause everyone’s singing
We just wanna be heard
Disappearing every day
Without so much as a word

Gonna grab a hold
Of that little songbird
And take her for a ride
To the top of the world
Right now
To the top of the world

So I took a writing class a year ago on “Gender and Country Music,” which, looking back, was probably not the greatest decision. Needless to say, not a lot of other people in that class loved the Dixie Chicks. Some hated them (feel free to google the Dixie Chicks and George W. Bush and you’ll see why, for those who don’t know). I also hated having to analyze to death dozens of songs for how they “performed” gender, and honestly, I don’t really care. If you do, then…yikes. The one great part of that class was that I got to write papers about the Dixie Chicks and some of their songs, since if I had to analyze any song, I’d rather it be theirs. Seriously.

I wrote an entire paper on this one song, since it had to be about one that I personally related to.  I just re-read that paper, and….wowzers.  It is so horrifically miserable. I wrote an entire paragraph about how I usually don’t love a song (or movie, TV show) unless it makes me cry, whether from sadness/recognition (in this case) or from joy. The rest of the paper isn’t any more pleasant, since it involved me analyzing basically every line and verse and applying it back to how bad of a person I am.

I love this song because it tells a story that I can relate to more than any other. We all have regrets, we all fear that one day when we’re older we’ll look back on our lives and wish that we could have done things differently. Even worse is the fear that when we have our own families, we’ll imbed our past regrets and self-pity on our children, “breaking their wings,” keeping them from flying “to the top of the world.”

I believe that this song is meant for younger people, to make them weary in their youth of what missed opportunities can bring. So get up from your chairs, eat with your families, say goodbye in the morning, show the people you love who you are in the inside (my favorite message in the song).

Obviously this is all easier said than done. I’m still struggling with this every day. There are a few people out there who I really care about, who I wish I knew and was closer with, but can’t bring myself to let them know. Fear’s a pretty nasty son of a bitch.

For those of you who have actually made it to the end of this post….CONGRATULATIONS! As a reward, here’s a video that I watched on YouTube 27 times after finding the performances I uploaded here. Since everybody knows that the Dixie Chicks are a perfect segue to Beyonce.

Seriously, I am so amazed by her thighs and her ability to launch them off the ground and land so effortlessly while wearing heels. She is perfection. This is also the coolest performance ever. And also seems the most expensive.

So that’s all for now! Enjoy the Super Bowl, or for those of you like me who just don’t care (except to watch Madonna’s performance), enjoy the PUPPY BOWL!! So damn excited.

The White Rabbit

We all know the story: Alice sees a white rabbit, follows him down the rabbit hole, and finds herself in Wonderland.  Crazy stuff.

My life is about as uneventful and unexciting as it gets, which I guess is largely completely my fault. I spend nine months of the year following a pretty pathetic schedule of going to class, going to my internship, going to the library/starbucks to do homework, squeeze some time in for food, and go back to my room where I pathetically watch TV on Hulu until I fall asleep to repeat that process the next day. Saddest of all, I look forward to the weekends the most because I have even more time to do homework. Social life? Screw that! Skool fo lyfe!

Clearly, my shit is a mess.

On the bright side, at least I’m aware of how embarrassing I am. Unfortunately, habits are pretty tough to break.  I know my love for traveling, for being in other places and experiencing different ways of life is a consequence of this. I don’t want my life to be a constant loop of Grande Caramel Apple Spice and history textbooks.  So I decide that one day, I’m going to have a job where I can spend weeks at a time in different places (USAID, I’m comin’ for you!). I spend summers giving myself a taste of what that could be like, sending myself to Peru and Africa and wherever else, just to resuscitate my flat-lining life.

Anyway, back to the white rabbit.  There have been so many times that I’ve wished to be somewhere else, somewhere…different from where I am now. Basically, somewhere unknown. I don’t really feel like I belong anywhere right now. I’m at school, thinking about the next time I go back home, I get back home and pretty soon start thinking about the next time I’m leaving.  Clearly, something isn’t right here.

Given my desire to discover my own white rabbit to follow, my favorite TV show, Lost, provided some way to vicariously do that.  I can’t say how many times I’ve wished I could be on that island, slate wiped clean, the past no longer significant. Maybe I could do without all the deaths and smoke monsters. And crazy evil people. Here’s a clip of one of my favorite scenes of the show, a conversation between John Locke and Jack Shephard:

In case you didn’t feel like watching, Jack is struggling with coming to terms with something he feels to be an impossibility, his own white rabbit he refuses to accept. Locke wants Jack to believe in the possibility that things happen for a reason, that what he believes to be a hallucination may actually be real.  Faith is something that both characters struggle with throughout the series, something I struggle with today. I’m constantly questioning myself, questioning my past and my future, never really allowing myself to just stop and believe that things will work out the way they’re supposed to.  The present isn’t really a place I like to spend too much time thinking about.

In this clip, rabbit holes are discussed in a slightly extremely more depressing way.  In this scene from the amazing movie, Rabbit Hole, Nicole Kidman’s character is contemplating parallel universes, other realities where versions of herself are happier.

First off, how beautiful is Nicole Kidman?? Seriously. Love that woman. This is one of my favorite scenes from any movie, which probably says something about how depressing I am. But honestly, who doesn’t think about, or wish for, something better? To be better, happier, to be eating pancakes or at the water park instead of wallowing in pain.  It’s nice to think that somewhere out there, a version of ourself is living the kind of life we wish we had now.

One day, I will find that damn white rabbit. And follow the bastard.

So this post became a lot longer than I anticipated. I’m also concerned that I didn’t make any sense at all, but since I spent over an hour on this, I’m just gonna let it be and hope that when I re-read this, I’m not completely embarrassed.

Alright, then

I’m not really sure what blogging entails, or what I’m looking to get out of this, but hopefully I’ll learn over time.

I think what I really want is to be able to express myself effectively. Lord knows, when it comes to communication, I am basically the equivalent of a toddler. And not the cute kind, who waddles around saying and doing any random thing, capturing the attention of everyone over how cute he is. No, I’m the boring, awkward toddler who’s been slow to pick up words, slow to learn proper motor skills. Sure, he gets some attention for his fatass cheeks and luscious locks, but that’s about all he’s got going for him. Maybe he gets some cute points for calling the “Subway” the “Taco.” Or for getting excited over scoring my first goal, only to learn that I kicked the ball into my own team’s net.

Since those glorious years, I haven’t lost any of that awkwardness (it’s grown exponentially), my cheeks are still unnaturally large, and my hair, while maybe not luscious, is definitely unruly. The curse of the Jews.

Back to communication. I just…can’t do it. Verbally, that is. It’s really bad. It’s as if my mind completely shuts down when I’m in certain situations or with certain people, and coherence is completely thrown out the window. Obviously, at 19 years old in a highly competitive school and soon to be entering a highly competitive pool of graduates seeking (floundering, in my case) employment, this is something that needs to be worked on. Intensively.

Like most plans, that one will probably be put on the backburner, in favor of more pressing needs. Like sleep. Which I should be doing now, but, you know, I’m such a crazy badass college kid. Obviously.

Anyway, to compensate for my verbal ineptitude, I’ve had to at least be somewhat proficient at writing. My English Lit professor at least seemed to think I was alright. And she was great, so that means her opinions are too.

So I’d say this makes me about 68% towards being a functioning human being. Of course, that number probably declines once other aspects of myself are contemplated, which will probably consume a large portion of this blog. But self-analysis is important, you know? You can’t form relationships without knowing yourself well, and being content with yourself, at least to some degree. Which probably accounts for my plethora of friends. Oh, wait.

Who knows, maybe I’ll raise that percentage over time. My goal is to get to 82%. A solid B-.