Sara the Hipster

So I'm a bitch.

The solar eclipse and my PMS-ing turned me into a bitch today. It's probably just the latter but I felt the former was momentous enough to be added. I got so excited when I read about it on twitter that I looked directly at the sun. That's when I remembered you aren't supposed to do that. And then I had the afterimage in my vision for a while after.

To preface, my housemate Melissa just graduated with a bachelor's degree in accounting and is about to move out. She makes lots of stupid decisions like smoking, losing things, hoarding cups in her room, and packing all of her clothes, the entirety of her wardrobe, amassing to something you might see on Toddlers & Tiaras, into simply black garbage bags which will just be a waste of like 15 garbage bags.

My housemates and I were trying to convince her to go see The Avengers and she refused. She based it on that she liked Iron Man but she didn't know the other characters. It doesn't matter if you know the characters, it's an action flick. There will be unnecessary exposition. We were trying to persuade her but all of us were faced with an obstinate "No." When we pressed further, she said "I don't want to get into an argument." And I said, "this is not an argument. You're just wrong." Melissa stormed out to have a cigarette. Feeling awkward, I came downstairs.

When Ashlee came down to check on me, I was feeling despondent. So while she was leaving, I asked her to wait and come sit next to me. Because I already missed her. But I didn't say that.

So when she asked me "Why? I'm already over here." She had literally crossed our room and she couldn't come over to me because it was too much of a hassle? Fine. I'm obviously not worth it.

I responded with "nevermind."

I feel like such a brain-dead moron.

And I've never questioned why I like sushi cat until tonight. And it's only because I'm sad panda. Why can't I just play sushi cat, eat ice cream, and be happy?

To meat or to not meat

Hey guys,

It's 2nd day of the 2nd round of veganism. And it's going well. I haven't broken yet even when I was very tempted by bacon. Having a girlfriend who is a meat-eater and not being able to share coffee, food, and whatnot with her will be hard but it will be a good practice in self-control.

I won't just put whatever is in front of me in my mouth. And that's healthier.

Coachella

Hey guys,

I know it's been a while. I almost forgot about this blog. But I remembered because I want to try and tell you how excited I am for Coachella.

Because, I am going to the second weekend. And I am freaking out I am so excited. Excited is an understatement.

I almost gave myself an ulcer while Ashlee's dad was trying to buy the tickets for us.

But I am going! Ah!

And Ashlee and I have now been dating for 6 months. Which I am also super stoked for.

Treasure Island 2011

Let's take a stroll down memory lane, shall we?

I'll leave this in its original form.

Good morning young whipper snappers!

I come back from a whirlwind weekend of helping a friend move in, Santa Cruz, and the Treasure Island Music Festival!

So, first off, Ashlee and I helped our friend (No longer a friend because she dumped us) A move from very close to campus to close to Golden Gate Park. Her new place is this old Victorian with two parlors, two staircases (indoor and outdoor), a naked bronze statue at the base of the banister and a creepy feeling. This mansion turned boarding house has four bedrooms, one of which has a walk-in closet and small water closet fully equipped with toilet and sink. Now, in our mad-dash to move things in, Ashlee left me with the house and the stuff from our first schlepp. My job was to move the stuff from the base of the outdoor stairs to the lobby and wait for her to come back with reinforcements who came in the form of our friend's loyal ex boyfriend.

As I dragged the heavy shit up and down the marble stairs, I could feel the sweat drip down my back. It happened to be one of the rarest things you'll ever see in San Francisco, a hot summery day. The house, as result, felt like an oven. I proceeded to open all the windows, stand outside to cool off, but nothing helped. I continued to sweat as I decided to bring all her booze, cast-iron skillet, drawers, and whatnot up the indoor stairs to her room. That day I exerted more physical energy than I had in my own move up to San Francisco.

When I had finished all that, I waited. I was, of course, without my purse which meant without my wallet, tissue, water, phone...unable to know what was going on. I expected my girlfriend back at any second. Seconds became minutes. Minutes became half hours. Half hours became hours as sun fell to dusk. I slumped in the solitary chair in her new room, panting and sweating, watching the sunset.

Ashlee and Allo finally came. I went outside and stood in front of Ashlee as Allo moved more things into the house. I asked what took them so long. She told me it had only been 30 minutes. Then I proceeded to cry and tell her I thought they had been in a car crash and no one would have thought to call me and that I thought about walking home and trying to figure out what hospital they were in but it was such an awfully long way back through SF at night...

Ashlee enveloped me in a hug. Then mentioned I had BO. How bad? I asked. About a 4. She told me.

We do things on a scale out of 10. How bad do you have to pee? Anything bigger than a 6 is worth stopping at a bathroom for. How hungry are you? Etc.

So her saying a 4, meant probably a 7, because she wanted to be nice which means I stank.

So that was the jist of the crazy move. Santa Cruz was much more mellow. I got to see a childhood friend and her boyfriend. I went to the boardwalk with Ashlee and her friend Cathy where we were for Cathy's birthday. Cathy even paid for all the rides, including the Giant Dipper-6th oldest roller coaster, that we went on. We had a grand old time. I bought this epic cookie sandwich. Life was good.

Then Sunday was Treasure Island.

Warpaint is this all girl band with sassy hats and strut.

St. Vincent consists of a girl with no bra on and a bass guitar which she strums meaningfully with politically charged vocals and made everyone feel a little awkward.

Beach House was amazing. I now have a crush on the sweetly sexy lead singer.

Explosions in the Sky should be renamed Earthquakes in the Sky. I could literally feel my sternum vibrating and the ground shake. But they were intense and sort of made me sleepy.

Death Cab for Cutie was, to be honest, a little disappointing. Don't get me wrong. I love them. I hardcore love them. But Ben Gibbard looked like Animal from the Muppets with the way his shag was. Ben, please, get a haircut if you're going to perform. They played Photobooth, The New Year, Doors from their new album... no songs that I hardcore love. Which was pretty much why they were disappointing.

Life

I'm about to finish my first year of college. And it's scary because I still am not totally sure of what I want to do.

But that's normal right? Career cold feet? It's normal to try and figure your shit out before you actually figure anything out.

Oh my.

Ready for this school year to be over.

It's been a lot to swallow.

And yet, I've really swallowed nothing.

Heh. That wasn't supposed to be sexual but it became so.

I don't know what else to say.

I'll fix this with pictures later.

UPDATE:

Why do I feel so used and abused?

Well no more!

First, one of my "friends" takes one of my scantrons when she could just walk to the bookstore and buy one herself especially when she missed her morning class to study?

And of course she takes the nice smooth one and not the bent up folded one that my suitemate borrowed because she was too incompetent to know what scantron she actually needed.

Now, both my suitemates are using my printer. Just assuming.

And maybe these are all a bunch of silly little things.

But all these stupid little silly things add up.

And enough is enough.

THIS PART HAS BEEN DELETED FOR REASONS SUCH AS
this is the internet and can be seen by everyone.

I think crazy Sara will subside once school is over.

God, I hope so.

Only two more weeks.

But I don't know if I'm going to make it.

Postsecret

QUICK UPDATE:

I was wondering what my life was missing.

And I realized:

I've been so wrapped up in Questionable Content, Doctor Who, Effing Dykes and Skins that I haven't been religiously checking Postsecret every Sunday.

Have I grown out of it? What does that even mean?
Ah, realizations, you are so weird.

I have a stats quiz tomorrow and still need to clean my room. Shit.

Where to take a sixteen year old girl in San Francisco

When you input that statement into google, it comes up with stories of a shooting, a stolen SUV, a Japanese baseball team that drafted a 16 year old girl, and Charles Manson.

But anyway,

my dad and sister are coming up for the weekend!

And I was supposed to plan out what we are supposed to do...

And I didn't.

And I was looking things up to do.

I went to Chinatown recently with my new roommate, which was fun, and we got horribly lost and ended up in North Beach and then at City Lights which is where we were meaning to go anyway, so it worked out.

But it was really frustrating when I wanted to buy these earrings at a little dumpy shop but the worker, who only spoke Chinese, couldn't get my card to swipe properly and did lots of motioning which I didn't understand and it is in those instances where I wish I knew more languages like how to say, "No, I have money on the card, it just has trouble swiping," in Chinese.

What would my sixteen year old sister even want to do anyway?

She wants to go to Haight, which is fun, when it's not pouring.

And it's pouring.

So, we'll see how the weekend goes.

I will be sure to update you all.

Dream dream dream... dream

So I had a dream last night that I woke up crying from. So it goes:

My father had a painting of our backyard. And in my dream, our backyard was an English country-side with some sort of cottage or Parthenon structure nearby.

But the painting was done in a crude modern art in-third-grade-I-drew-this kind of way.

So, in the dream, when my father told me, at the Cal Train station, that he had given the painting to the SF Moma, I began to violently sob. I was outrageously upset. I just kept sobbing and sobbing. I had only sobbed this much in my dreams when my mother dies in them.

And I was especially upset that he didn't at least sell it or keep it. All he got was this little card that said something like Donor but it wasn't that with HILL INTRO underneath with a little plastic bouquet in between that stuck out. But I just kept sobbing and shouting at him.

Wonder what it means...

Conversations with My Mother

So I called, trying to figure out where in godforsaken Texas we are staying, and so it begins:

Me: Hey Mom, what's the address of Uncle Tom's place? Arielle was asking because...

Mom: Oh I know! It's crazy! I can't believe she'll be so close...

Me: Yeah, in Austin.

Mom: No, we're in Cedar Park which is close by but...

Me: No, ARIELLE is staying in Austin...

Mom: Oh oh yes of course. Well how are you? All good? (And this is my mother's way of beginning to end the conversation)

Me: Yeah...

Mom: Well, alright then, I'll let you go. Buh-bye.

Me: No wait, Mother! Tom's address?

Mom: Oh, I don't know it. Love you. (click)

Our conversations might as well be:

Mom: So are you dead?

Me: No

Mom: Raped?

Me: Nope.

Mom: Alright, Sweetheart. I'll send you money later this week. (click)

Petty Procrastination

Hello lovelies!

So here I am, not doing work, yet again. Even though now I have used this handy add-on for Firefox called "Leechblock" which is, for all you Mac kids out there, like Self Control. You set it for a period of time, an hour for me right now, and pick sites that you don't want to go on but know you will anyway and probably spend hours on not doing the final that is looming over your head due at 11:55 tonight.

I should probably set this as one of the sites as well.

I'm going home on Saturday! I don't quite know how to feel about that. It'll be nice, and not so nice, to see friends, and family.

How do you pick what books to sell back? I like some of them and I don't know if it's worth it to sell it back at half the price I got them for.

So, right now, I'm going to go back to the grindstone with my hair sprouting out of my head in a 'do resembling Pebbles from the Flinstones.

More Roommate Drama

Hello poppets!

So this has been a particularly stressful week for me. We had the dreaded roommate meeting Friday afternoon.

Now, for those of you not up to speed, my direct roommate has been having her boyfriend sleep with us every night she's been here.

And, on top of that, she's been having randos crash in our living room.

Apparently, no one was bothered by this but me. But that doesn't matter because after she told me so-and-so was staying Thursday night right before she and Tim went to bed, I lost it.

Me: Why didn't you ask me?

Her: You weren't here.

Me: Well, why didn't you text me and ask me?

Her: You're never here. I just forgot.

Yeah, you just forgot.

Anywho, after lots of discussion then arguing then crying, Christina graciously agreed to having time spend the night only twice a week and in the living room.

How accommodating of her.