I'm so out of it I can't even remember the name of this blog...

I admit it shamelessly.  I am a lightweight(featherweight, let's be honest).  I am 5'0.5 (I like to round up) and 110 pounds.  Anyone well-versed in the effects of alcohol can imagine that I can only handle a much smaller amount of alcohol than other people can (ironic, because I can't admit this when I'm sober).  So while my other roommates are...well, hanging out with their boyfriends and not blogging at 5:40 am, I am- while listening to the entire Strange Clouds album by B.o.B, no less.  See, I can advertise even while I am- what comes between drunk and tipsy?  Actually, maybe I'm just drunk- the first step to fixing a problem is admitting you have a problem. I am in bed and my head still spins every time I try to pull my laptop closer to me (sign one that I shouldn't be blogging at 5:42 am- also, sign one that I shouldn't be using a laptop and that my sorry ass should just be in bed.)

Also I use too many fucking parentheses.  Even when I'm sober.

ANYhoo, after lots of thinking, I am not ashamed to admit (damn this is a night of confessions GOD DAMN TOO MANY PARENTHESES HEAT STOP)  that I have a checklist as to what a man I get involved with should have.  Apparently I do my blog posts in checklists when I'm drunk.  I love to write otherwise why would I be doing this?  But I'm apparently too lazy to write in complete sentences.  All-righty then.

1) The man cannot have less balls than I do.  This is self-explanatory.  If I don't like something, people know.  If I don't like someone, they know.  And I don't see that as a bad thing- it weeds out the people I can't handle in my life.  This is an insight into my previous past, in which I bashed stupid people and proceeded to explain that I can't have stupid people in my life lest my brain explodes and I cannot provide our six WONDERFUL readers with their- what comes after monthly?- entertainment.  Seriously, if I can stand up to people and the guy can't, and if I'm dealing with people while he hides in the corner and tries to cook chicken, it is over.  With a capital O.

2) The boy's gotta know sports.  Seriously, if the guy knows about any LEGITIMATE sport (this doesn't include curling or ice dancing, guys), I'm happy.  Although I won't lie- you know about football?  And you're a Patriots fan?  Please marry me.  Right about now.

3) He should like to travel.  I'm not a travel bug by any means.  Whenever I go to India (which is as far from the United States as it gets, in my opinion), I can't handle it.  I start getting all patriotic and shit in my head,  It's weird.  But for real though, that doesn't mean I'm a complete recluse, and he'd better be up for going somewhere like- I dunno, France?  Egypt?  Anywhere on the damn globe besides the United States, Hyderabad and Bangalore?- and I'll be happy.

4) He has to have a sense of humor.  I don't know if you noticed, but- how to put this delicately??- I'm not all there.  If you're looking for a not-crazy, regular, won't-tell-you-what-she-thinks-never-mind-if-it's-embarassing, don't come here.

5) He's got to look good in a suit.  Not that that's hard.  All men- and I MEAN all men- look like slammin' hotties in a suit.

6) Please try to show me you actually like me.  If I'm not a priority, you go ahead and make a case for why I should give two fucks about you.

7) For God's sake, think for yourself.  You really think we're impressed when you try to hunt for bitches after years of dating us, just because of a bunch of guys who couldn't get it up even if they had the opportunity to?  And also, you really think we're impressed when we reaffirm that you can't get with any one of these bitches no matter how hard you try?

8) He has to be able to get multiple genres of music.  Who says you have to like JBiebs and The Wanted? (Siva from The Wanted is my husband btw).  I literally listen to freaking everything- Taking Back Sunday, AC/DC, System of a Down, B.o.B, J. Cole.  If you can carry on a conversation about any artist (except maybe NSync), we're okay.

9) He has to be honest.  I love a guy who doesn't mind telling you what he's thinking straight up (although don't get me wrong, he can't tell me if he thinks I'm fat.)

10) He should be able to have fun with my friends and me (see, grammatical even when I'm drunk.  That's right.)  Get drunk with my friends.  Go to a concert with me.  Indulge me and climb to the top of the W with me.  Just get to know my friends and talk to them.  It's not that hard, even when you're sober.  I'm sure you can manage.

Alcohol's starting to wear off.  Also listened to Strange Clouds too many damn times.  Also I have 2.5 hrs to go until my next class.  Clearly I'm the mistress of bad decisions.

Now you're just somebody I used to know.

Ever since August, I have been burning bridges and weeding people out of my life, culminating in a breakup of a relationship that lasted almost three years.  These past two semesters have given me time to reflect in who I am, realize who was important, and most crucially, eliminate those who couldn't be bothered about me.  These months have undoubtedly been difficult and have taken a toll on me, not only in terms of a purging of my social circle but in terms of my perception of myself.  I feel like I've been somewhat capricious in my choice of friendships, swinging wildly from one end of the personality spectrum to the other.  But more alarmingly, I, the girl who has always known exactly what she's wanted and where she wants to end up, don't have the first clue when it comes to relationships and reading people.  It was a bit of a shock, and the idea of listening to what other people have to say about the kind of people I choose to get involved with grated on several nerves.

After all of this, I can reaffirm one thing about myself.  I am a very all-or-nothing person.  Whether other people realize it or not, I put so much into all of my relationships that when they end, it's neither clean nor pretty.  About 80% of the time, I feel like I take the ending of the relationship harder than the other person does.  But regardless of how many experiences I have like this, I don't think it's something I can or am willing to change about me.  My passion for things makes me who I am and I have no intention of giving it up, even if it may leave me vulnerable.


Conversely, I know that there's stuff about my personality that I have to change, insecurities I need to surmount and flaws that I need to fix.  It seemed like it would be such an arduous effort, but I feel like I'm not the same person I was a mere three months ago.  My life in January seems so far-removed from everything I hold dear now, and the people in my life then certainly have no place in it now.  A boy I couldn't imagine not being with is nothing to me now, and my friends have proven to be even more invaluable than I dreamed before.  Constancy is a goal I am not meant to reach right now, even in terms of my own personality.  While I would have quailed at the thought of such change three months ago, I have the humility to accept it now.  


At first glance, it would seem as if this semester was marked by vicissitude and senseless turmoil.  People told me that they were sorry that I "had to be sad."  I didn't understand why every form of conflict and loss imaginable was being piled on me all at once, and I thought it was ridiculously unfair.  But looking back, I have no regrets, and it would seem that there was a method to the madness.  I am happier and more confident now than I've been in a long time.  I'm stronger and I had the sense to learn how to read people better from my breakup.  Nothing is constant.  Everyone changes, and the two of us were no exception.  He warped into someone who wasn't right for me, and now he's just somebody I used to know. 


And so am I.   


~*Heat*~

someone hire me PLEASE!

Every so often, a college student reaches this stage in his or her life where he or she sees the world moving around him or her and realizes, he or she is standing still, and wonders what the hell he or she is doing in life. I reached such a stage in my life this week. The summer is fast approaching (and by fast, I mean in like...less than 2 weeks...) and the closer it draws, the more people seem to fall in love with the question "What are YOU doing this summer?" I've been asked this question about a hundred times in the past week and here's the answer I wanted to yell obnoxiously to the next person that asks me: "I have NO FUCKING IDEA what I'm doing this summer!"


Of course I don't actually yell this, because that would be unbecoming, but I really have been tempted the past 50 times or so. While I am reveling in my personal crisis, all the people I love are moving on with their lives around me. They actually have a clue of what their summers are looking like. My fellow elements are all engaging in adventures this summer--Swift and Heat are travelling to Spain and Portugal this summer on what sounds like is going to be on HELLUVA escapade. Liquid is working for MTV in NEW YORK. My own dear boyfriend will be in New York as well working for JP Morgan with a few friends of his. And what am I doing?


Uhhhh...


Well. From the time school ends until my brother's graduation (HOLY mother of God Ican'tbelievehe'sgraduating!) I will be chilling at home doing a whole lot of LSAT prep, working out, and relaxing, with the occasional hanging out with friends. It's about 20 days of having nothing to do and I don't really mind. I'm actually quite excited about that. And then I'm off to the motherland, mera Bharat Mahan, for a grand total of...like 3 weeks. I think we'll be stopping in Paris on the way there so that's alright. Although touring exciting places with my family is like trying to strangle yourself--it just doesn't work. But all that is still Hunky Dory...until I come back.


This is where the fun starts. I'm back. It's the end of June. and I have NOTHING to do. Now, I'm not the kid of person that gets bored. Really, I'm not. But when EVERYONE you know is off gallivanting on some exciting adventure, you do start to wonder what the hell you're doing sitting at home. All I want is a job. Something to take my mind off of the ample amount of excitement I could be having and the ample amount of nothingness that I'm actually doing.


So. The point of this rant? Someone hire me PLEASE!!! Save me from wasting away my life this summer. Give me meaning! Give me PURPOSE!


K. I'm done.

##Dirt##