my brattiest (and only) wedding outburst so far: i don’t want a color scheme, i want the absence of a color scheme, i want a million different patterns
my grandfather grew up in a concrete house on the beach, literally in the sand, in southern greece that was eventually destroyed by the sea. when they needed money they sold some of the land closer to the water but left enough to build another small house at the top of the hill overlooking the beach. it’s the weirdest little house that’s so close to the road that you can’t open the shutters in the smallest bedroom or cars will knock them off. there’s a small bathroom that was built with the rest of the house and then there’s a bigger, fancy bathroom off the kitchen that my grandpa built when i was born because my mom and i were american girls that deserved a nice shower not a hose hung on the wall. and no one else was allowed to use it but us, even my yiayia, who grew up in a family with more money than ill ever see and was used to nice things. there are lemon and lime trees in the sloping, rocky back yard and an open concrete pit “basement” filled with old tools. the window sills in the kitchen had old tang cans from when my dad was young that my yiayia had hung on to, one is on my desk now, filled with sand and shells from the beach. it’s been rented out for a while now by my great aunt, which was a dilemma because my dad asked her not to then found out she was and was keeping the money, he wants to go there together to put the house in my name and i’m excited but also going to feel bad hating the people who’ve been living there and ruining my childhood memories. i can taste the disappointment i’ll feel when i go into my old room, that was my dad’s room before, and there isn’t a musty twin bed with a trunk at the end filled with blankets knitted by my yiayia, reeking of mothballs. and the sun washed blue curtains in the kitchen won’t be there and the tang jars and ancient kettle are probably long gone. i’m the last of my name (blood related, anyway) and the house being lived in by strangers might settle that in a little too hard.
but hey your girls finally gonna own some property i guess
For more than 25 years, many developed countries, including the U.S., have been sending massive amounts of plastic waste to China instead of recycling it on their own.
Some 106 million metric tons — about 45 percent — of the world’s plastics set for recycling have been exported to China since reporting to the United Nations Comtrade Database began in 1992.
all im saying is none of you will know true power until you lose the fear of anyone discovering how embarrassing you were as a teenager. being a legal adult is about being comfortably emotionally far enough out of high school to begin exploiting your scene phase for jokes on the internet
in the spirit of this post here’s a pic my friend sent this morning of 16yo me in the middle of putting on as many of her clothes as possible
I’m so proud of you
i got really into laughing at old pictures of me recently
ok sorry i need to rant into the void. how shitty is it when someone says “something something, no offense,” as in a friend said, “she’s not my type, shes *truck drove by*, no offense.” and it’s so much shittier when you don’t know what they said. what could it have been? oh maybe everything i already hate about myself all at once somehow. and how shitty are feelings and new friendships? like shit. and my new job is great and way better than my old one but this one is pretty solitary and has coincided with one best friend moving an hour away, the other being really busy at work with the end of the school year, and my boyfriend recording his band so every minute of his free time is filled up and i haven’t had a good conversation with him in three weeks until today which just made it worse and harder. being lonely sucks because i like being alone by choice not by force and this is really environmentally forceful. i’ve been pretty manic these past few weeks which has been great and now i’m a fucking meteor crashing into the earth and i feel like all my skin could come off and i still wouldn’t feel better or worse
so i got invited to my favorite bartenders bridal shower and i’m not going because i’m the most awkward human but i am sending a card with another friend and how much $ do i put in it
there’s a guy at my new job that has a mercedes that’s only a couple years newer than my first car and i have a car crush on him and i’ve never said a word but i think he knows it. probably from the inescapable joy in my face whenever i hear him driving in and whip my head around to stare at his car.
