12 8 / 2014

"

My friend once told me
she liked this guy because of his hands
And I found it absurd that anyone
would develop feelings over one feature,
and not care about the rest

It wasn’t until you used your hands
to cup the back of my neck the first time we kissed
and I could feel your firm grasp pull me closer,
and my insides exploded
and my head buzzed with bliss.

And the first night you slept over,
you fell asleep with your hand
laid over my stomach
and your fingers felt like a fire
that I didn’t mind burning my skin.

The first time we got drunk,
was the first time you played with my hair,
and my god I was hooked,
I’d drink forever if it meant you’d never stop.

And in public you’d hold my hand,
and rub your thumb in little circles
that left me wanting you more,
no matter what you would never let me go,
I was glued to you,
and I honestly didn’t mind

When we talked about breaking up,
you saw my lips quiver with fear,
and you brushed over my lips with your fingers
before pulling me into your lap
and you kissed me like never before.
With your hands on my hips
pulling me so close to you,
leaving no space in between us.
It was then I realized I never wanted you to go

Its now that,
I finally understand why hands
were the only feature that mattered

"

Hands: Carol Shlyakhova(strong-but-breakable)

(via blue-eyes-wild-smile)

05 8 / 2014

I’ve always been someone who didn’t take risks. I like my comfort zone and I stick to it. I’ve been ordering the same sandwich at Subway for as long as I can remember. I’m a middle lane driver, so that I’m cruising at a comfortable 70 MPH and just a single lane change away from my exit. I date the relatively boring clean cut guys, with probably perfect and successful futures all wrapped up with a bow on top. I recently opened a TD Ameritrade account for my future’s sake and I invested the bare minimum dollar amount. Just to test out the investment waters. Point being, I don’t take many risks in my life.

But then along comes Handsome. He’s as far from my comfort zone as I can get. He’s grown up in a rough neighborhood, has slept around—and with quite a few people. He is so nonchalant towards everything and everyone, has stupid diamond rapper earrings along with scratchy facial hair, plans on getting a motorcycle, and is just an overall badass. Basically everything I don’t go for. 

And for one night, after months of friendship, I actually caved in to him and his risks.

I’ve never felt anything more full of passion than those few moments we spent on my last night in the dorms. 

Every other boring, engineer-type guys who I truly do see myself with in the future—and that have been a consistent part of my past, all couldn’t compete with what Handsome brought to the table. 

But what surprised me the most out of our few minutes of passion, sprawled across my ex-roommates desk, was when I said I didn’t want to go further, he respected that. Although he made certain assumptions as to why I did not want to, I didn’t feel pressured to satisfy him. 

I feel like there’s that one guy like this in every girls life. The one that hurls you out of your comfort zone. The one that hands you a beer right before chem lecture and flashes their perfect smile saying “Drink up”. The one that when he first asks you to lunch, doesn’t start with small talk, but rather he asks about your beliefs and values as you wait in line. The one that tells you to stop being so predictable. 

And even though he may not be “forever” material. The way he changes your perspective really does impact you in the long run. 

04 8 / 2014

I’m not sure when it happened.

Whether it was noticing you when we were 14 in our first AP class. The dweeby little blonde kid with glasses that looked like he needed a friend.

Or whether it was during one of our countless off campus lunches we went to together as high school went on.

Or whether it’s when I see how passionate and happy you are when we’re just driving around. Playing our music a little too loud.

Or whether it was when you were with her. The way you looked at her in a way she would never return. 

Or whether it was when I was him. He treated me so well, and yet it didn’t phase you one bit.

Or whether it was during one of our regular bickering fits, where I knew that smirk plastered on your face meant it was nothing serious.

Or whether it was those long few months where I thought our friendship was over and college begun. 

Or whether it was when you decided to talk to me again. Our friendship worth more than the girl that broke your heart.

Or whether it was when you came to visit. Got a little too drunk and sloppily kissed me. Just a blur to both of us. 

Or whether it was after a handful of mistakes with the wrong guys. 

Or whether it’s those moments when we reflect on what we want in a relationship and realize we want the same things.

I’m still not sure when it happened.

Or maybe it was at each of these instances. 

15 7 / 2014

Ahhh yes. It’s finally summer. Back in the comfort of being home and knowing I will never have to share a dorm room again in my life. 

This summer I’m interning at local pharmaceutical company that make listerine-strip type thingys (not technical term) but that work as energy strips or melatonin strips etc. It’s pretty fun and really feels like I work in a chemical bakery.

Seriously.

But not the point. I work with this guy who’s a couple years older than I am. He just graduated with his bachelors and is heading east in the fall for his Ph.D 

My entire shift, the entire week, I spend talking with this guy in the lab. So you can say I’ve gotten to know this kid pretty well. 

And man did I learn that age is just a number. He’s really attractive, seems alluring because he’s a bit older than me, funny, all that jazz. But dear lord, this kid has the maturity of a freshman in high school.

He giggles at the joke he made when he was 14. He finds it funny that our dried out experiment capsules look like boogers. It’s ridiculous.

Moral of the Story: Age does not necessarily equate life experience. You might have a couple years on me, but where we stand maturity-wise is galaxies away. 

03 6 / 2014

The other day my best friend asked me the reasons why I liked MATE.

And I just kind of sat there in silence. After a good couple minutes of thinking all I could come up with was

"Well, I like his sense of humor. It’s a lot of one liners where you’re laughing for a good 10 minutes later. 

I like that he’s effortlessly smart, but most of the time isn’t a snob about it.

I like how oblivious he is, but simultaneously aware.

I like the way he’s trying to come out of his awkward shell and tries to socialize with everyone.

I like how he isn’t afraid to make a fool of himself for a good laugh.

And I like to think that he notices the little things that I do too and likes me for that.

But I know that he doesn’t.” 

All this time I’d been listing the reasons I found this kid endearing, but didn’t really stop to notice the reasons he’s not right for me. 

MATE talks endlessly about his fraternity. That’s awesome that he’s found somewhere he fits in and found great friends. But there’s more to life than how your frat’s soccer team beats the intermural one every year, or how drunk your brother got and broke down the door of the main house. 

He never really seems genuinely interested in asking about me. Isn’t there supposed to be mutual inquiry? 

Conversations with him are actually really bland. And don’t get me wrong, I can usually converse with people no problem. But my presence doesn’t feel appreciated when he and I talk sober.

With that said, sober conversations are really boring with him. I don’t plan on becoming an alcoholic just to be with him. 

He’s from my hometown. Although we only went to middle school together and not high school, I left that damn town for a reason— people included.

Except for maybe one, I really hate most of his friends.

He sucks at texting. Nothing pisses a girl off more than that.

He gets too drunk and gets a major case of the beer googles. He barely remembers making out with nappy asian. Right. In. Front. Of. Me.  

But alas, sometimes flaws like these overpower the little things we find endearing. We tend ignore people’s flaws to try and convince ourselves we’ve found the right one. Therefore the next plan of action is to wait for someone worth my time. Someone who’s flaws don’t ruin the facets of them I really do like.

22 5 / 2014

Today I held a human brain.

My lab group went right to work. Drawing the hypothalamus, describing it’s function.

Maybe I’m not the type to objectify things like my peers. But it’s a feeling of unreal power, holding the structure that is responsible for human function. The brain is responsible for sending action potentials down the axon. Such a simple concept— just some calcium and sodium ions crossing a membrane. Hormones released from our hypothalamus to the anterior pituitary gland allow us to mature. Yet this simple mechanism is the reason we feel emotions like love. The reason we experience sadness, longing. Why some of us are capable of having mature relationships, (ahem not you fratty mcfratson) whereas others are with their significant other for other, immature reasons.   

I just stood there in awe, with a stranger’s brain in my hand. “I am holding the entity that holds every memory belonging to this person. Every person they’ve loved. Every place they’ve seen. Every emotion they’ve felt. Every adversity they’ve faced. Every test they have studied for.” And everyone around me continued on to label the cerebellum and the right hemisphere. 

Now I understand part of the reason why people want to be surgeons. In a way, you play God. Altering the natural state of a human body. If that’s not a feeling of power, I’m not sure what else is.  

College is meant to expose you to novel things. It’s supposed to expose you to things that make you uncomfortable. Whether it’s new experiences with boys or new experiences in classes. Whatever your major is, and as much as you hate your major some days— there are day’s where you are reminded why you go through the stress you do. Sometimes all it takes is to hold a human brain. 

17 5 / 2014

I like each part of MATE.

The fact that he’s a materials engineer.

The fact that we’re from the same town, so once he realizes how awesome I am and wants to date me, it could totally work.

The fact that we knew each other in middle school and were recently reunited is an adorable story.

The fact that he is really adorkable and sweet and is a genuinely nice guy.

But the choices he makes as a frat boy, like sleeping around and getting too hammered to the point where it impedes his decision making ability constitutes who he is as a whole. 

And the whole of the person is who you are with in the long run.

This entire time I’ve been romanticizing the idea of this kid, but never stopped to look at who he is as an overall person. And I don’t think that’s someone who’s right for me. 

Of course, who knows what the future holds? Maybe he’ll grow out of his stupid “freshman slut” phase. But what’s the right person if it’s not the right time?

Moral of the story: Just because on paper someone may seem perfect— That doesn’t necessarily mean perfect for you. People are more than just the sum of their parts. 

14 5 / 2014

(Source: astutes)

11 5 / 2014

Repost this anywhere

(Source: wisekelp, via brbjellyfishing)

11 5 / 2014

Ironically, the post right before this is a rant about not letting guys treat you like trash.

And here I am. Saturday, feeling that slight sick feeling in the pit of my stomach questioning:

"Why did I cave and spend the night at MATE’s apartment last night?"

Because at the time, that’s what I wanted. That’s why, dammit.

After a lovely evening of drunk bowling, we ended up lying on the floor of the study room of his apartment because, fuck roommates who go to bed at 10:30. 

Mid “festivities” I slurred the words to him “Shit, I kind of like you. Stop being such a frat slut. The words “Whyyy, it’s freshman year?” were rather sobering. Just because you’re a freshman doesn’t give you the ok to throw your penis at any passing female.

That following morning, his 50 alarms (that all have a different designated sound might I add. What a dork) went off.  Apparently he needed to wake up at 8:30 for his fratty community service thing. I insisted I wasn’t moving until I absolutely had to. He later came back into the room with a sheepish look on his face “So…we’re out of all normal breakfast foods. Do you want a poptart?”

I couldn’t tell you why, but that was one of the most endearing things MATE has said to me. Dude, I wasn’t even expecting breakfast, but thanks for kind of burning the poptart anyways. It was a sweet thought nonetheless. 

But for some reason, after I ranted and raved to BFF and the roommate about my great night, I burst out into tears. Maybe it was exhaustion. He didn’t do anything wrong that night. It was me more feeling kind of crappy that I know what he does, yet I still go back. As T. Swizzle would say 

"I knew you were trouble when you walked in. So shame on me

Yes, sometimes he messes up. But I’m the one who chooses to come back. Call it weakness, desperation whatever. I wish I could tell you why I do it. 

This whole casual “fling” is something that I am having trouble grasping.

Having an “open relationship” is honestly just asking for STDs, and that shit ain’t cool. 

Moral of the story: I’m still trying to figure out the whole protocol of casual college hookups, but learning always comes with pain. You are the one who is in control of who you let stick their tongue down your throat, but sometimes you can’t explain why you let it be someone you knew from the start is bad for you. But sometimes it’s the little endearing things he does, that overpowers the douchy ones.