Just blogging, Weekly Diary

One week in bed

Get your mind out of the gutter you little perv, it’s not what you’re thinking 😜
Today is day seven of me being cooped up at home, just moving from my bed to my couch and vice versa. The reason for this is that I had a small surgery last week because I tore my meniscus while jogging sometime last year. It’s funny that I, out of all people, managed to have a sports injury – I’m not athletic at all. In all honesty, I’m already proud when I’m “working out” for ten minutes, meaning just lying on the floor, on my back, and occasionally lifting my butt in the air while watching beautiful people on shows like Bachelor in Paradise. I do this since I was a teenager. Back then, I spent my afternoons doing bridges and watching Fashion TV. I mean, it’s all about the right mindset, isn’t it? And since I truly believe that Subliminals can work, I’m just helping my mind visualize.

But I also have phases where I’m super motivated to work out and go for a run. Like after eating too many carbs (thanks Diet Culture!), when realizing that summer is only one week away, or on January 1. On those occasions, which occur about every couple of months, I’m also convinced that one workout will fully transform my body and that my before-and-after-running look in the mirror will be just as striking as the fake transformations on infomercials. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, tearing my meniscus during a one-hour run after several months of no training at all isn’t that surprising.

Outside my rare exercise crazes, I’m really not athletic. I mostly just go for long walks. Granted, I’m walking at a very aggressive pace, but that’s as far as it goes. I never understood this mentality of No pain, no gain. One could argue that I should have it in my DNA to excel at competitive sports, my mom used to be an athlete, but I just never saw the point of jumping the highest or running the fastest. I also don’t really like being sweaty. PE was my personal hell at school.

I remember that classmates tried to encourage me for sprints, saying stupid things like “Imagine there’s a tiger trying to get you”, thinking that it’d make me go faster. Sure, we were only 11 years old, but a tiger? I’m not even addressing the fact that cities are growing faster than carcinogenic cells, we succeeded in reducing the population of wolves to a minimum, they’re almost extinct in Germany. And you want me to imagine being chased by a fucking tiger??? Besides, I’m pretty sure it’d be a very bad idea to run from a tiger, even though it probably wouldn’t make that big of a difference if you’re being ripped apart after 3 or 5 seconds.

But even though I’m everything but a fitness addict, I’m really struggling with sitting at home all day long. It’s crazy how much the physical state impacts the mind. Yesterday has been the worst day yet, I didn’t get anything done. Being physically lazy also turned my mind into a lethargic mush. The lack of vitamin D, back pain from being sedentary all day long, and the absence of social interaction of course didn’t help with my mood. And if that wasn’t enough, my inner critic started telling me that I’m an absolute failure because I didn’t use my time efficiently. Fun times.

Fortunately, I’m slowly able to walk again, and I also had the first appointment for my physical therapy. It’s really fun watching my body recover. And makes being grateful so much easier.

Usually, I’m not really able to leave my mindset of a spoiled brat. Sure, I get the logic behind being grateful for simple things, even if it’s something that seems pretty basic, like running water, food, electricity, etc. But I also think that having very basic needs covered should be the norm for everyone everywhere. So when I try to write down the things I’m grateful for, I usually end up yelling “Fuck this shit, fuck the government, fuck this existence!”. So it’s not really having the desired effect. I’d rather go on r/ABoringDystopia to find some peace of mind. I guess misery does love company, and thanks to this subreddit, I feel less alone in my existential angst. Just look at the screenshot on the right. If you’re a millennial living in an apartment that’s just about the size of a shoebox, having toast for dinner because that’s the only thing you can afford until the end of the month even though it’s only the 10th, you might find some comfort in the fact that you’re not alone leading a crappy existence.

But right now, I really don’t care about not being able to afford anything and being a disappointment to my parents because I’m learning how to walk again! Without support! It’s like I’m being transported back to when I was an infant and when the world was fun and fascinating instead of sad and depressing. And since my doctor mentioned that it might take up to three months until I reach full mobility again, I can look forward to reaching a new milestone every day. Until I’m fully recovered and back to drowning my sorrows in alcohol, just like everyone else. What a time to be alive.

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Just blogging

Weekly Diary #8

I need more than 24 hours in a day, I don’t even know how October passed this quickly. Between work, trying to get organized for my university stuff (which I’m still failing at btw), job searches, preparing for Halloween, and some unnecessary drama, my head was spinning. I’m truly wondering why I’m attracting all this drama now, I’ve never been this kind of person before.

Maybe it’s the city and the people here, or maybe it’s because I’ve reached an age where compromise gets harder and where I’m less willing to be agreeable about everything. However, I’m not getting any deeper into the nature of the drama. It’s very personal, though, who am I kidding, it’s not like that has ever stopped me before. But it’s way too recent for me to talk about it without ruining my day. And it’s also not really that interesting. I’m in love with someone who’s emotionally not there. It’s a story as old as humankind. I even wrote a poem about it, which I then deleted, because it sucked. I guess that means that I did a really good job with the writing after all, since it really conveyed the feeling of sucky suckiness.

I spent the last days ugly crying, listening to a lot of Sufjan Stevens, and doing a bunch of impulse shopping. I got some new decoration items for my home, fancy dresses for the next big occasion that will never present itself, and a latex bunny mask, because why not. Now, I’m waiting for all that to arrive, as well as the large black hoodies I ordered so that I can hide from the world, even when I’m not hiding in bed, sleeping 15 hours a day.

And of course, I had a bomb Halloween party to take my mind off things. If you follow me on Instagram, you’ve probably already seen the make-ups I tried, leading up to my phenomenal costume as Angel of Death to celebrate the pinnacle of the spooky season. But since I have narcissistic tendencies, I’ll happily share the photos here.

While preparing these looks, I noticed how giddy I get when I can let my inner goth out. And so I set a new goal for myself, which is getting into makeup. But only next year, because I still want to finish my degree first.

I’m taking care not to say “have to” and say “want to” instead so that I can trick my brain into being motivated. It doesn’t really work, though, and I still have some doubts if that future degree will make finding an interesting job any easier. I mean, I study linguistics. The only thing I’m good at is reading stuff, talking, and writing. And there are moments where I even have difficulties with that. Exhibit A: My wonderfully awful poem I’m too ashamed to show to anyone.

Funnily just earlier today, I had a very short interview with a headhunter. (Somehow, that term always makes me think of a hitman.) And so we were talking about the job I’m currently doing and what my expertise is. She was about to ask me something to understand my current day-to-day better and started her question by saying “Are you capable of…”, and immediately, I went like “Nope, I’m definitely not capable.” in my head. And I’m not even kidding when I’m saying that this is how I really feel. Not only when it comes to a job, but just everyday life. Somehow, I have no clue how to do things, and the idea that I once thought I’d have my life figured out by reaching my 20s, aka ten years ago, is just ridiculous.

Fortunately, I’m not the only one who thinks that the way our society does life and responsibilities is nothing but a big scam. When I look at my group of friends, we all seem to never grow up. At least not in the way that we thought was required, with slick parted hair, a tidy single-family house in a suburban neighborhood, and a Golden Retriever. We rather have inappropriate conversations and throw dress-up parties that help us escape reality and deal with the Millennial angst.

I guess that’s why astrology and spiritual practices are having such a boom among Millennials. They provide the perfect escapism and offer some peace of mind.

“The universe will guide you. You just need to manifest your reality. But don’t worry if you have trouble raising your vibrations right now, we still are in Mercury retroshade, and you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. Here, you can use these crystals to help you balance your energy. Also, yoga is really good for your chakras.”

I feel all warm and fuzzy already, just by typing these lines. It’s pretty similar to a religion that helps to have faith in us and, well, the universe and its mysterious ways. Actually, I think I will go get my crystals and sage my room for good measure, Then I’ll make some hot tea and hide under my blanket while probably having an anxiety attack about everything I didn’t do today. That’s my idea of a great afternoon. Enjoy yours as well, cheers! ✌️

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Dating, Just blogging

Dating & money

This is a topic that has been thoroughly discussed with my friends and that doesn’t seem to get old. It’s an ongoing debate what to do with the check when at a bar, café or restaurant. I’m writing from my hetero perspective, and I have absolutely no clue how this is handled in other dating situations. But I’ve often experienced some kind of awkwardness when it comes to paying. Should the guy pay, should I offer to pay my part? I have to admit that it never crossed my mind to pay for both of us on a first date, except if I’m the one who chose the location. But I usually prefer letting the guy take the initiative. Not because I’m lazy or because I’m a greedy bitch, but because I’m looking for someone who’s assertive and invested in me. But I’m getting ahead of myself, so let’s get to the story first.

A few weeks ago, I went on a date with a guy who I’m pretty much into. Or at least, I’m pretty much into the potential thing that we could have if we start seeing each other on a regular level. So far, we’ve only hung out four times since July, and most of the time, I initiated the contact. It annoys me, but I also don’t have a problem with going for what or who I want, even though I would of course prefer being pursued from time to time instead of doing all the pursuing myself. Just for the record, I’m not harassing anyone who’s not that into me, and I’m only hitting a guy up that often before I accept that I won’t get any or not enough investment in return and leave it at that.

So when we went on a date that other day, I don’t even know how many weeks had passed since we’d last seen each other. Two at the very least, although we had both mentioned that we’re indeed both very enthusiastic about continuing to see each other. And even though I’m not thrilled about that I’m obviously not that worthy of his time, I chose to ignore this massive red flag. Besides, I have no problem being by myself, I hate most people anyway *Sagittarius rising*. Although now, it’s getting to the point where I’m almost like “whatever” when we actually hang out. And thinking about how the last date went down actually has my blood boiling.

When we were planning the date, he suggested that we go to a bar in his area, and that’s what we did. We had one round of drinks, Gin & Tonic for him, wine spritzer for me. He asked me if we should go to a different bar after, which we did, and he paid for the first round. When we arrived at the second bar (which he also chose), we had a short convo about if we’d pay by card or cash. Neither of us had much cash with us, and that was when he also mentioned that he had a rather tight budget for drinks. I think I said that I could get the second round, but then he wanted to pay by card and have me give him the cash, which was fine by me. We had the same drinks again, and I think that I should mention here that his was actually double the price of mine. However, I gave him the money for the second round as we had discussed. I actually didn’t even think about it. But where it gets really interesting is that we then stopped by a bodega where he got a third drink. (I didn’t want anything.) And I’m really confused: So he had no budget for the drinks he chose to have at the bars he knows and suggested, has me pay more than I would have actually needed to, but still needs to buy something for the road even though that would also be out of his budget???

I’m not sure if I’m overreacting here or if I’m petty, but in my opinion, if you can’t afford to take someone out barhopping, then you don’t. There are many other things that are cheap but still make a fun date. Like feeding ducks. And you especially don’t claim that you’re on a tight budget and can’t pay for an additional glass of wine, but yet have the money to get something from the bodega.

As I mentioned, I didn’t think about all this at the moment, especially because, opposed to the impression you may get from this post, I generally don’t think that much about money. I think it’s a stupid construct that humans developed to serve us, just to have us become slaves to it. So I also don’t really care who pays for what as long as things are fair. But I guess what really frustrates me in this case here is that the guy who has already shown me that he’s not overly generous with his time for me also can’t be bothered to literally invest in an evening with me, even though he clearly has the means, but rather gives me some bullshit explanation.

The worst thing is, I don’t even know if I should or would want to address it. I mean, even though highly unlikely, it could be that I’m pissed for no good reason and that it was just a miscommunication. But firstly, I’m also very non-confrontational and secondly, I don’t believe that a conversation would do much, except for me feeling stupid for arguing about money. So I guess my only option here is to see and wait how things play out in the next couple of weeks before I decide whether or not I should dump his ass.

In any case, you will get an update. In the meanwhile, I’ll be happy to read what you think about all this. Am I the overanalyzing asshole here? How do you handle money issues during the very first stages of dating?

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Just blogging

Exciting news

I don’t even know how often I’ve been writing this in the last couple of years, but: I know I haven’t been very active here lately, and I’m planning on changing this.

Those who have read my ramblings and bitchy texts for a while now will probably think “Yeah sure, tell us something new.” Well here it is:

This blog will soon be a project which I’ll do together with a very close friend of mine. Not only that. In addition to writing blog posts, we’re also working on a podcast!

The podcast will be in German, but the posts will continue to be in English as well as in German. Expect to learn about my friend’s and even more about my personal life and dating mishaps, fun anecdotes, and critical views about the world we live in. More, we’ll cover topics that I haven’t really addressed yet here, such as feminism and of course my current obsession that is astrology.

Of course, you will be the first ones to know when we launch, and I hope it’ll be very soon. So far, we’ve advanced really well with making podcast episodes, and we’re currently working on creating posts for the blog.

We would like to hear what kind of topics you’d read and hear about. So please let us know in the comments and type in your suggestions. We’re super impatient to finally go online with all the content we’re now creating for you, but promised, it won’t be too long. Until then, check out Instagram to see what’s new.

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Just blogging

Don’t you wanna follow me back?

I guess it’s impossible to run out of topics when you write about online dating, for the better and the worse.

One thing I always found very amusing was the moment when you exchange socials or even a number. When I gave out my number, most of the time I’d be like “Please no dick pic, please no dick pic.” Btw, I don’t understand why guys would send them in the first place. Why not start with other body parts instead? If a pic of your dick is all you have to offer, then I’m just not interested. Or is the dick pic the result of a long time of reflection, where the guy asks himself: What do I have in common with a Greek god? (If you didn’t get that joke, just google Greek god statue and have a look at their penises.)

So, I’m usually not giving out my number very easily. Instead, I like to go with my instagram account. Which is perfect actually, because that way, the dude sees that there’s less of a chance that I’m a 50 yo dude and because that even without adding each other, you can text.

But sometimes I get the feeling that some people aren’t totally easygoing when it comes to staying in touch with someone via instagram. And funnily, the ones who only have like a handful of followers seem to be the thirstiest and the most eager to gain more followers. So what usually happens is that they follow me – which I never asked them to do, I just gave them my handle so that they can stalk me as much as they like, but that doesn’t mean I’m engaging. It’s like doing the starfish in bed, just that it’s on social media. And then, I can honestly just wait for the question: “Don’t you wanna follow me back?” …. And me like:

Seriously, why would you even ask that question? It’s like asking: “But why haven’t you said anything about my new haircut?” Well, it’s ugly af, I’m not to look at that more often than I need to. So sorry, not sorry, I’m not going to follow your shitty insta account. Otherwise, I would have hit that button already. But I didn’t, so just draw your conlusions from that.

But keep sending me nice messages, please.

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Just blogging

What would you do if you died tomorrow?

I know, that’s such a corny question. So corny that it’s close to having a tattoo that says Carpe Diem. So corny that Nicholas Sparks would answer with a poop emoji if you texted him that question. And yet, that question popped into my head yesterday. (Well I guess I have a predisposition for corny stuff, I do love romcoms after all.)

Before I’m getting into details, it’s maybe a good idea to give you some background information first. So for a few weeks know, I’m noticing once again that I probably can’t eat all types of food. I’m sparing you the details, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that my intestins are not reacting well to wheat and/or gluten. And maybe some other stuff, too, since it’s been almost impossible for me to eat anything without some sort of complications. Of course, I’ve already seen a doctor and am currently doing all the exams to know what exactly is causing problems, but so far, there hasn’t been anything conclusive. But I was asked if we there were cases of cancer in my family. My doctor has such great humor.

Now I don’t think that I have cancer or anything severe, but I still asked myself: If that were the case and if I died tomorrow, would I be satisfied with my life so far? Would there be anything I regret? And even though I don’t have any regrets, my answer to the first question would be “It was ok.” Just that, nothing more, nothing less.

Have you heard of the marshmallow experiment? Where kids receive one marshmallow and if they manage to wait for a certain amount of time without eating that marshmallow, they receive another one? The marshmallow experiment supposedly shows who’s going to be successful in life (people who can make sacrifices for now to have a better result later) and who isn’t. I alsways thought I would be part of the latter. Though I would have done pretty well on the marshmallow experiment as I find marshmallows disgusting. But as for everything else, I find it incredibly hard and unnecessary to make sacrifices. My mom would say that’s because of my astrological sign, but I just think, if I can have something right now, why wait? However, I’ve tried to make some responsible choices, and since there’s no one else but me who’s paying for my fancies, holding back on certain things has become rather easy.

I’ve postponed travels because I thought it would be smarter to wait and really plan everything instead of just going somewhere, I’ve partly sacrificed my social life because I want to be successful in my work (and ultimatively earn a shitload of money of course). However, when thinking of the very abstract idea of dying tomorrow, these decisions, as smart as they may be in the moment, don’t seem smart at all. On the contrary.

If I was on my deathbed tomorrow, I would definitely be sad about not having spent enough time with my friends and not having travelled to all the places I wanted to. Also, it would also suck to acknowledge that I haven’t found a person to travel with, yet. I mean it’s awesome to be independent and stuff, but if it means doing stuff alone most of the time, it’s not always that great.

So what’s my verdict from this thought experiment? I sure don’t want to reverse my entire lifestyle. My work and professional success will always be very important to me as will be my independence. So to find a balance between me being somewhat of a workaholic, I will also focus on keeping my friendships strong and building new relationships as well. And I’m also planning my next vacation.

PS: Leave a comment if you recognize the featured image 🙂

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Just blogging

“Being drunk adds value to everything else in life.”

That is by far my most favorite quote from KUWTK! You cannot imagine how much I love Khloé for saying that. As soon as I heard it, I decided: “That’s going to be my motto.” Though tbh, it’s already been my motto, I just never put it in these words.

Funnily, I started drinking kinda late. When I was 17, it was a very good year… No, I was 18, actually. But since I didn’t do the whole take shots-drink-alcopops-and-use-funnels-thing (except for 1,2 occasions), I actually learned how to appreciate wine. Especially because I lived in France during that time.

Not that we don’t appreciate drinking in Germany, we mainly just use less sophisticated beverages. Think about it: Drinking beer at 10 AM is trashy AF. But having mimosas for breakfast is perfectly acceptable. Same goes for wine vs beer at noon.

Besides learning how to appreciate wine, I also noticed that it makes everyone’s company so much more enjoyable. Therefore, I wasn’t surprised when a former boyfriend told me that his family would pretty much empty an entire cellar during one family meeting. And I could totally relate – my family does exactly the same. But it’s not only your family that gets nicer with a few more glasses. I always find myself in way more interesting conversations or situations. After all, alcohol is a social lubricant, why else would they offer it en masse on The Bachelor? Though maybe I should add that I’m very friendly when drunk, I don’t get aggressive, unless there’s a chair I can fight over. (There was one funny incident in a bar. A good friend and I were sitting at a table with 3 chairs and since the bar was still empty at that time, I just put my bag on the third chair. One bottle of wine later, some dude came over and just wanted to grab the chair without asking. So I made this huge fight out of it and ended up yelling at him. I also think my friend was terrified.)

And I rarely get sad, either. On the contrary, I’m usually a little funnier and even wittier, or maybe it just seems like it because my senses are dulled, but I think that I’m at least a little more entertaining in one way or another. I also think that wine makes me more creative. It shuts up the inner critic. That’s why I barely ever write without a glass or two. (Or three, or four, or five…) Also, even though I would never consider me a writer, I’d love to be one. And the great ones, Ernest Hemingway, Edgar Allan Poe, Truman Capote, Hunter S. Thompson weren’t known for their healthy lifestyle and their addiction to juice cleanses. Well, except grape juice.

And aren’t the crazy things you think, feel, say, do while being drunk what makes a great story?

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Just blogging

Thank you!

Friday was my birthday.

If you’ve read my previous posts, you may know that I’m getting super weird around this date, meaning that I find most kinds of human interactions overwhelming or challenging, to say the least.

Honestly, there’s not much that leaves me with as much anxiety as an upcoming birthday. In my past experiences, you have to go through annoying small talk, people you barely know are giving you hugs, you get crappy presents, and it’s pretty much expected that you invite people to cake and drinks. (WTF, why would I have to invite someone if it’s MY birthday?) The prospect of all the potential awkwardness usually makes me wanna crawl into a hole and never come back.

But this year, my birthday has been preety great – even though I didn’t plan anything at all.

So I spent my day at work, which was normal, and then, I had a walk around Cologne and did some window shopping (more or less: I did try on stuff, but was underwhelmed. So all I bought were some nice lotions, that aways makes me happy.) Also, I was SO surprised by how many people have messaged me throughout the day. It was far from what I expected.

A few years ago, I probably would have made a sarky comment about people leaving a comment/ birthday wishes after Facebook invites them to, but today, I had the feeling that all the messages I got (on and off Facebook) were truly genuine. And honestly, they made my day. I was also really happy to get back in touch with people I haven’t really spoken with lately. It was great to reconnect.
Therefore, to everyone who thought of me and sent a message: thank you so much! You don’t even know how grateful I am to have such amazing friends and “family” members in my life and I truly appreciated your messages and I loved the Skype conversations and phone calls.

Also, I was shocked to see what my roommates came up with. We’ve only lived togehter for a few months now, but somehow, they know my taste really, really well, it’s almost scary. Needless to say, it was an amazing surprise. (Though, on the other hand, I don’t think I’m that hard to please. Just give me wine and some pretty clothes. And if you throw in some skincare, I’m in heaven.)

Again, I had a wonderful birthday, so thank you for that!
(Now I only need five more of these to erase my stupid anxiety :D)

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Just blogging

When will you open up to me?

A few years ago, that was the question I was aske dby a guy I was seeing at the time. I didn’t think things would go into a serious direction, since he never gave me a reason to believe that and our dates just consisted of random hookups. Besides, we both worked at the same bar and so the stories I heard didn’t exactly convey that I could expect more than these random hookups. And then, one night, he asked me that question.

I was definitely caught off guard by that question. Especially because he would have been the last person I would have expected to ask me this. But I started thinking about it, and I still am, roughly 5 years later.

So what if I put everything on the table from the beginning? If I was completely honest? I guess it would be very entertaining if I had an audience. Because the options are pretty much the following:

  1. I hate you, but you’re unable to get non-verbal cues and also don’t understand when I’m being ironic. So in the “completely honest” scenario, instead of putting a special intonation on “Wow, tell me more.”, I would probably just say something like “That’s the worst story I’ve heard in my life” (- in my very German accent I have to say). But I also hate confrontation and I honestly see most of the things happening in my life as a part of a story that I tell other people. So if I’m on a shitty date but it has the potetnial of becoming the worst date in history, I’m staying. Just because it makes a funny story.
  2. I actually like you but I don’t wanna fuck you. That’s the boring option. It happens all the time. But somehow, people don’t seem to understand it, even though it really is nothing but DNA compatiblity, or incompability for that matter. (I’m talking about kissing someone and if feels as if it was one of your siblings. Not in a Game of Thrones- way.)
  3. I actually like you and I want to wear your skin. Slightly exaggerating here. But you get the idea. As soon as I really like someone, I’m becoming this romantic extremist who will show the same persistence in staying at your house as a roach. Not so cute.

And so, since I don’t want to come across as a crazy stalker or psychopath, I’m staying extra casual and I’ll pay attention to avoid certain topics – especially things that have to do with my family. No one needs to know how much of a nut job we all are. But I’ll also avoid talking about deliberately killing a Sims-family and having brutal fantasies about pigeons and a sharp stick, and of course your well-lotioned skin.

But then I start wondering: How would things be if I was more of a Ted Mosby? If I just told someone I very much appreciate, “I think I’m in love with you”? Besides of being fucking weird, I mean.

Tbh, If someone said that to me, I’d probably be like ” Oh thank you! – What’s your poison?” But considering that I make immediate judgements about people I don’t like, wouldn’t it also work the other way ’round?
Which leads me to my main question: Why is it scary if people are openly into you (especially if that goes without weird movie references)? Why does it seem too much if they seriously put their cards on the table? Honestly, everything would be so much easier if everyone could just say “Listen, I’m a cannibal, I want to eat you.” – “OK, cool.”/ “Yeah sorry, not my thing.”. But no, we have this different set of codes which make it seem wo much more complicated.

Like waiting for 3 days before texting. I know, it seems outdated, but that’s still a thing.
Or counting who paid for what. Seriously, what’s the point? Just bone if you want to.
Or saying certain things too early. Who makes this timeline? Why would you have to follow a schedule?

Unfortunately, I’m internalizing some of the mindsets above.

Not because I’m unaware, but because I want any potential anything last as long as it possibly can. Which apparently includes being a little phony from time to time – and making up a socially acceptable profile, even though that includes negating your love for naked cats (as well as your appreciation of well-lotioned skin).

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Just blogging

Birthday anxiety

My birthday is coming up and I’m not sure how to feel about it.

Before you think: “Oh right, another chick who can’t handle getting older.”, I don’t care about my age. I’m actually somewhat looking forward to having white hair, wearing makeup that makes me look like a crazy clown and hopefully getting a much deeper voice which doesn’t sound like it belongs to a 13-year-old. (I always wanted my voice too sound more like Scarlett Johansson’s.)

Though there have been mulitple moments where I felt that I’m failing at existing – according to societal conventions – I don’t really care anymore. The last time the thought of having to be an adult stressed me out was right before my 18th birthday. But since then, I found out that pretty much everyone sucks at adulting. Besides, my family seems to have stopped wondering if I’m a Lesbian or not ever since and I’m also starting to find people amusing who ask me about kids and marriage. I’m actually looking forward to never having kids and just spend all my (fictional) money on designer and travels, especially because I can justify all that by quoting Schopenhauer – not that I have to. And I’m almost proud of being an eternal student. You don’t find many of us anymore. These teens nowadays…. they have become so serious, urgh.

However, I do put quite some pressure on myself. Just for the story, it would be so sad if my life was mediocre. So it can either be tragic (which it is already tbh) or fucking amazing. Like spending-all-day-yachting-with-my-friends-and-drinking-champagne-amazing.
I don’t wanna be that tragic figure. (Besides, every tragic figure becomes really annoying over time, that’s why they always end up killing themselves. And I’m over that.)

So there really is no other choice than becoming great. No pressure at all.

But what I really don’t like about birthdays is being the center of attention. Well, I don’t mind being the center of attention, I just want it to be for something I deserve.

But being born is not an achievement. Neither is staying alive, even though that would make much more sense to me. (Besides, I actually like listening to the BeeGees.) But we’re not living in the 1800s anymore, where sudden infant death was a real thing. And thanks to the stigma, being mentally stable doesn’t count as an achievement either.

So I don’t really see the point of celebrating my birthday. And if it’s just for the milestones, I prefer having a party for each single one of those. Seriously, why would I wait a year if I can can get drunk immediately?

One of the first things my roommates asked me after I moved in was the date of my birthday. So apparently, they’re going to plan something.
I just hate that thought. I want to spend a normal day doing what I always do and not having to have stiff conversations around a diabetes-causing cake that’ll make me nauseous. I also don’t want to open shitty presents and smile politely while thinking about throwing this new [insert anything unnecessary/ ugly /unwanted / all of the above] in the trash or reusing it as a gift for someone I hate (or date; I just noticed how similar those two words sound).

I also think that birthdays fall under the same category as NYE. People put so much pressure on them, it has to be the best day of the year. But – surprise! – it rarely is. So you most probably end up diappointed.
The birthdays I remember were days of weird family get-togethers and food poisoning (the real one, not induced by alcohol). And of course birthdays where I felt that something special should happen, but that just wasn’t the case. Instead, they were just like any other day, or even worse.

All that is the reason why I just don’t wanna celebrate my birthday. In my opinion, birthdays are just a compilation of awkward moments. So if you want to make me a birthday present, just spare me.

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