Okay so like I’m really not down with capitalism, but mostly because I know that for the next 10-15 years of my life, I will be living in a tiny apartment with very little living space and shared oxygen with many roommates. Having siblings, I can deal with the roommate part, but the biggest thing for me, especially right now as I temporarily live in a teeny-weeny college dorm room are these damn thin walls.
If there’s anything that really defines me, it’s that I have this super active imagination. It was definitely a blessing and a curse, if anything. On the one hand, I could tell a vivid story or get lost in the possibilities of what my life could be like. On the other hand, the mind of a middle school girl ripe with puberty hormones just cannot contain the fantasies I had about random boys I had crushes on — from conversations to romantic date scenarios to the ol’ dot dot dot…. (ok that came like around end of high school, don’t worry fam). Point is, I love speaking these things out loud, by myself, like I’m having a conversation with someone except it’s with my dream personality and I’m doing ALL the talking. I like to call it Outer-Monologuing, and I OWN it. But the key to outer-monologuing is PRIVACY, as in NOBODY ELSE gets to hear about the fake conversations I have with my only semi-attractive British neighbor literally in the room across from me. Meaning nobody else can hear the bitch-ass takedown I give to the person who wronged me in the 4th grade. It’s my fake personality, but when you’ve got walls so thin that your neighbors can hear you and think you were on the phone with your long-distance boyfriend, it gets real awkward. Real. Fast.
It’s not just my fake personality that I like to air out in my rooms. Sometimes you just have to air out the dirty laundry. And yeah, sometimes I do actually need to air out my dirty laundry because it piles up and we can’t all be perfect, but I’m talking about spilling the tea here. The fact that “tea” autocorrects to 🐸☕️ on my phone should help with the context, but honestly if you don’t understand spilling the tea, you’re probably not going to understand that brilliant emoji combo. ANYWAY, I shamefully love gossip. Not celebrity gossip, too blasé, but gossip about people I actually know and have established dislikes for is like actual crack cocaine for me. But guess what other FAVORITE PASTTIME is ruined by these damn THIN WALLS! You can’t gossip if you live next to Sarah who’s best friends with Alex who’s cousins with Rachel who could spill the hot gossip you screamed in your room about a Susan. It’s just not right and it’s just not fair. (The moral ambiguity of it all is not important here)
But you know then there’s the big kicker of thin walls being able to HEAR THE SEX IN THE ROOM NEXT DOOR AT 2 AM.
So yeah I can be all narcissistic and pretend that I’m super annoyed with all my introspective bullshit I have to put on hold…
But really, it’s the sex.
Seriously, I’ve hit rock bottom.
It’s not important HOW I lost my phone or WHY my phone is never charged or WHERE I ended up finding it (all of these questions have embarrassing answers that will definitely ruin my street cred). What does concern me, however, is the fact that after 20 hours without my phone, I was already exhibiting pseudo-symptoms of withdrawal. I was an irritable, nervous wreck all day solely because I lost my one connection to the outside world — if the outside world is Twitter and memes. Guys, if I can’t even handle a cell phone addiction, how will I be able to handle the burgeoning Adderall addiction I’m slated to have in my sophomore year of college?!
So let’s just check with WebMD right? Checking off all my symptoms, I’m nearly slated to be suffering withdrawal or hepatitis probably, either one being equally legitimate.
- Mild withdrawal symptoms may include:
- Intense worry.
- Nausea or vomiting.
- Feeling a little tense or edgy.
Severe withdrawal symptoms may include:
- Being extremely confused, jumpy, or upset.
- Feeling things on your body that are not there.
- Seeing or hearing things that are not there.
- Severe trembling
(Ok, these could be withdrawal symptoms or just a normal day in the life…am I right guys???)
I’m trying to be half-serious here. Last night, I nearly cried myself to sleep at the thought of going to school without my phone with me at all times. I reached out for a “phantom phone” multiple times. I spent entire class periods lamenting how I had no means to check the time — while there was a watch tightly fastened to my left wrist and a clock mounted on the wall no more than two feet away from me. I had to schedule three college interviews today, and I nearly broke down when I realized I couldn’t check my calendar for my availabilility. Is this level of cell phone dependence normal? Part of me hopes that I’m not the only person who wails in front of her mother about how she can’t function throughout the day without her phone, but then the rest of me really hopes you’re not as much of a hopeless waste of space absorbed in their phone for 23.5 hours a day like me.
“There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages.”
‘Twas Twain that made this observation (albeit he was certainly not the first, according to his theory), and for me his words ring loud and true.
Somebody pinch me. It can’t be 2017 already.
I know it’s really cliche to look ahead in disbelief at the normal passage of time, but this year out of all 18 years of my existence gets the prestigious honor of being absolutely terrifying to even think about. The mountain of college applications and scholarship essays currently consuming my life have done a decent job of distracting me from the reality that in just a few months, I’ll know where I’ll be going to college and starting the first step towards my adult life. I’m starting this blog to document the final year of my “childhood” and find an outlet for the anxiety and existential crises that are sure to result as a consequence of the gravity of my situation.
I also started this website because I felt as if my writing abilities were somewhat lacking. My favorite English teacher told our class that the best ways to become a better writer are to read and write – a lot. I’ve already started on the writing end in countless journals, but I’ll admit that I only crack them open sporadically, and half of my journals are filled with my daily blabberings about teenage girl drama I vicariously lived through. I hope to write about my impressions on everything now and be able to map out my own intellectual awakening as I explore new books and ideas. And for sake of accountability, I’m publishing it here.
This may just be another one of my grand ideas or “New Years Resolutions” that never come to fruition, but I honestly hope it can be so much more