In which I offer yet more life advice for the barely functional

I've said it before and I'll say it again: February is the absolute worst.

I can't think of any clever and titillating introductions to that fact because for the past week it's been like the electricity inside my body has been cut off and my tongue is weighing heavy in my mouth and everything I do or say is dull and monotonous and uninspired. It's been winter for entirely too long and the smog that hangs over the city is beginning to penetrate my soul; I am a swirling vortex in a thousand shades of grey: I will swallow you whole.

I also feel obligated to state that this has nothing to do with the presence of Valentine's day- I mean, I hate V-day in a creeping, passive kind of way- but that's more of an effect of the Februaries, not a cause of it. Sort of a, I DON'T WANT TO CELEBRATE OUR LOVE RIGHT NOW, I CAN'T FEEL ANYTHING type situation.  I am totally down to eat chocolates from a heart-shaped box, should you feel inclined to give me one.

I also also feel obligated to state that I am perfectly okay right now. I'm sitting in bed making last-minute casting notes and eating my weight in babybel cheese (WHICH YOU CAN BUY IN BULK FROM COSTCO, DID YOU KNOW) and debating whether or not Scott Kardashian is, in fact, a sociopath (my vote is yes.) When I no longer want to consume dairy and limit my theater expertise to quoting 'Night, Mother, then we worry. Right now, it's just February.

Because I am overly fascinated with my own opinions and absolutely in the "People Who Suck At Life" category again, I have decided that now is a great time to offer my fellow barely functioning humans some life advice.

But first, here is a classic piece of visual inspiration:

I find the fact that she is wearing pearls to be particularly impressive. Way to keep it classy, Brit.

Let us all learn from dear Britney's example. 

Now, depending on how closely you follow my online presence, you may have noticed I haven't mentioned bathing in my own salty tears for a while. Actually, even if you do follow my online presence closely, you still may not have noticed this- I post a crap ton of stuff online. Especially facebook statuses. I have no doubt this will contribute to my divorce/firing of the future. 

But I digress. 

About a year ago I talked about crying all the time, all the time, because it was a novel and confusing experience. Because I no longer talk about it, we can deduce that this is something I no longer do. 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH JUST KIDDING.

(also the first time I typed that it came out as JAJAJAJAJA, because sometimes I like to agree with myself in German, enthusiastically.)

No, I totally still cry. All. The damn. Time. 

Again, there is absolutely nothing wrong with crying. Apparently it's one of the body's way of ridding itself of toxins- though that may not be true, given my therapist said it when she was trying to persuade me into tears. However, when you are pretending to be a normal grown-up and you continuously burst out sobbing, people find that fairly off-putting and usually want to talk about your feelings for a long period of time. Nothing wrong with that either- but this is frequently a thrice daily occurrence for me, and ain't nobody got time for that.

So without further ado, I give you this Lissa approved guide to spontaneous weeping like a grown up:

Step 1: Never let them see you cry.

Actually, this is probably the only step. And I may want to rename it to Cry on the Sly, because alliteration. 

Only Step: Cry on the Sly.

Better.

If you know you have a chunk of free alone time coming up, try and get all your crying done then. Like in the shower. Or the car, if you can still navigate the road safely while being blinded by your own bodily fluids. So maybe not the car. The idea here is that if you get it out of your system while you're in control of the setting, you may be less inclined to an outburst later on. 

Alternatively, you could just reduce yourself to a constant state of dehydration, so that if you do start crying there are no tears and you're just gasping like a sad fish. That should confuse people to the point where they leave you alone. 

My latest and most effective tactic if you think you are going to cry is to abruptly walk away. This is a very adaptable technique- if you are at work, just casually pretend like you need a bathroom break. Immediately. That may last twenty minutes. Okay, your coworkers will probably suspect you may be suffering from some sort of intestinal issue, but better that than know you have feelings, amiright?

This is also perfectly employable within the confines of your own home- the only issue is that you are usually expected to return to the situation you are walking away from, so you should come up with a good excuse. I once walked away mid-conversation to return ten minutes later claiming I remembered I had to turn off a light upstairs. This was obviously not a good cover, because it does not take that long to walk up and down stairs, and because everyone who knows me knows I prefer all the lights in the house be on all the time always.  I am probably single-handedly responsible for global warming. Sorry.

So...don't be like me in that aspect, maybe. Pretend you had some dishes to wash, or something. Maybe some jelly you have to take off the stove. 

It's surprisingly easy to do this when you are out of doors- oh, you just brought a me a thoughtful gift and I am responding emotionally? Excuse me while I walk down the street a bit to look at...something. I will be back. Probably. 

The most difficult situation in which to pull this move off successfully is if you are mid-way through a date, and you've just realized you're sick of pretending to laugh at their jokes and you're really tired and OH CRAP THE TEARS, THEY ARE A-COMIN'. The key to a smooth execution is to pretend like you're just too damn cool to stick around any longer, then you casually put your jacket on and insist that you will be walking home, in the freezing rain, like the exotic and mysterious being you are. Boom. Cryin' on the sly. 

And there you have it, internet. A useful, one-step guide to hiding your feelings from everyone you interact with. You are welcome.

What my OkCupid profile would look like were it not INUNDATED WITH LIES.

It would basically be this picture:

And let's be honest, #2 is being generous.

Disclaimer: If we share DNA, if we work together,  or you have ever dated me, you might want to stop reading right....here.

But first, a brief introduction as to why I have an OkCupid profile, and why it is now disabled:

Online dating makes a huge amount of sense if you want to actively date. I'm totally serious. I think in recent past there has been some stigmatization implying that online dating is for people who are not capable of finding people to date otherwise- I don't think this is the case. The world is full of lovely people you can hit on and subsequently court, marry, and reproduce with. However, that takes a certain amount of time and effort, and I am lazy and would rather be taking naps or eating sandwiches.

Furthermore, in order to meet people, the media has taught me that one must be in the right place at the right time, such as at work, in your local coffee shop, on the train, etc. etc.

For work I teach small children theater and sell diamond rings. Everyone I see is either an underage aspiring actor or looking to get engaged, and neither demographic really appeals to me romantically. 

As for the coffee shop idea, if I have not already received my beverage I am probably midway into a caffeine withdrawal rage spiral. If I have already received my beverage, I am fully focused on taking long drags from my cup between deep, shuddering breaths. Not really a situation conducive to flirting.

I do take public transit. I also read on the train. Sometimes people try and start conversations over this. It usually goes something like this:

Well-Meaning Boy: What are you reading?

Me: The Lonely Polygamist.

WMB: What's it about?

Me: A polygamist. Who is lonely. 

Me: *pointed glare*

WMB: Oh. 

Me: *silence*

So that has yet to result in any marriages. Shocking, I know. 

Let's see, where else... I do occasionally attend church-type things when I'm not working, but any time nice Mormon boys get friendly, I want to pet them gently on the face and say something mysterious along the lines of "Oh, honey...I'm no good for you." And then smile sadly. 

Also? Flirting at church is very tacky and probably annoys Jesus at least a little bit.  Just don't do it.

Basically what I'm saying is my personality is detrimental to reeling in the menfolk when that is not my primary focus, so okcupid seemed like the logical solution to meet lovely people with whom I could cultivate a variety of life-changing relationships. 

Okay, so that's partially a lie. 

What actually happened was I moved to SLC this summer with a heart full of hope and love and dreams and stuff, ready to date new people and have a myriad of adventures.

I also had a job that gave me maybe ten hours of work a week, so even with selling my body fluids for money I was barely making rent. I still had (and have)  the body of a tiger mauling victim, so stripping was out of the question (to the eternal relief of my father, I have no doubt.) Desperate times called for desperate measures.

So...I signed up for OkCupid. In the hopes that I would go on dates with wealthy people who would buy me food. 

TO BE CLEAR: This was a TERRIBLE idea and I am not proud of it. It also proved to be wildly ineffective because, as it would turn out, other people spending money on me in an attempt to curry my favour makes me incredibly uncomfortable. This also rules out my back-up plan in the sugar baby industry (again to the relief of my father, I am sure.)

Interesting sociological observation: Every boy I have told about this plan has reacted (understandably) in horror. Every girl I have told about this plan was either amused or impressed. Read into this as you will. 

But I digress!

So I did that for about a week until I could save up enough money to buy a case of ramen, which was nice. Shortly thereafter I got my teaching job, which was even nicer, because at that point my hair was starting to fall out again. 

However, I kept the dating profile because I really did want to date a lot of people. 

Fun fact about dating profiles: They are essentially a sales pitch accompanied by a few choice photographs.

Fun fact about me: I'm not exactly terrible at sales. 

And, okay, you don't exactly have to make an effort if you have the good luck of being a girl online. But my profile was a gem of succinct wit and charm bundled into an attractive package! Enough to pique the attention of an endless string of 26-year-old software engineers! It was glorious!

And today I disabled it. 

My reasons for doing so are twofold: 

1) It's the end of January. Historically speaking, I am a particularly insufferable bitch this time of year. And this is coming from the girl who glares at well meaning strangers on trains, and signs up for online dating with the intent of using people for food. And that was during the good part of the year. So, I think it's really in the best interest of civilization for me to politely bow out until spring. 

Plus I should really think about my life and my feelings and other things for a bit, probably. That's usually a good idea in my case. 

2) While everything on my profile is absolutely true, attempting to live up to the best, most witty parts of yourself is...tiring. Though "inundated with lies" is a major exaggeration, it's still not an accurate portrayal, really. 

This would be much closer to the truth:

My Self-Summary:

I am your average 22 year old white girl. Nay, I am the quintessential white girl. Every stereotype about white girls? Absolutely applies to me. I like my iphone and starbucks and brunch. Really, you could google "things that white girls like" and you'd pretty much have me covered. 

And yes, the self-loathing that comes with this knows no bounds.

 What I'm doing with my life:

Oh dear lord how I wish I knew. 

I'm really good at:

Baking Pies. Taking naps. Entertaining people with self-depreciating humor. Cuticle care. Hanging out with small children. I sing really, really loudly in the car- it does not sound good. The impressive part of the car singing is the volume. And maybe the enthusiasm. Honestly, it detracts from my driving abilities, which are lacking to begin with. If you date me, I will be overly vigilant in ensuring you are properly hydrated at all times- doubly so if you drink alcohol. I can swear in seven languages but I try and stick to English- it offends a larger audience. Given the opportunity I will try and rescue ALL OF THE STRAY CATS.  If it were legal I'd totally do the same thing for babies. Cats and babies, man. Cats and babies. My blind hems are pretty impressive. I know a lot of stuff about theater. I can walk for six hours without getting bored, assuming it's nice out. I can make a cheesecake in a country with no cream cheese- it involves doing unspeakable things to yoghurt and I don't want to talk about it. If you are sad or upset I will try my best to listen to you but I'm horrible at advice, so I will probably share some inappropriate jokes, procure you some food, and offer you the number of a good counselor. And then I will make you drink water. I give pretty good head scratches. I'm an okay kisser. I read really fast. Multiple people have commended me on my playlist making abilities. 

The first things people notice about me:

I'm a terrible first impression. And second impression. Third usually isn't great either. I'm really mean when you meet me- I do not have a warm and welcoming personality. I would be a terrible diplomat. 

The other day my home teacher- who I had never met- came to my house. I answered the door holding two bottles of alcohol and then sat in silence on the couch eating a burrito. This is pretty close to the standard procedure for when you show up at my house unannounced. I'm also really loud. I am, however, weirdly good at job interviews as of late.

Favourite books, movies, shows, food:

I read the memoirs of people I find hilarious, novels with interesting covers, instructional manuals on skills I wish to develop, and the occasional number written in a foreign language. 

I also read a lot of reddit but that's not a book. 

I watch an absurd amount of beautifully sad movies to make myself feel less alone. It works wonderfully. I highly recommend it. 

I watch entirely too much TV because I can't stand the quiet and dialogue is less emotionally involving than music. Sitcoms are awesome. I've seen the entire series of friends a million times- a couple of those viewings have been in french.  Weirdly this did nothing to improve my french. The only British TV show I could ever get into is the IT crowd. Orange is the new black was awesome. When I find myself asking what those wily Kardashians have been up to, I know it's time to seek medical help. 

The existence of delicious food I have yet to eat is always in my top five reasons not to kill myself. (I also think everyone should have a fallback list of reasons not to kill themselves, and I think food should be on every list.) I don't eat a lot- my quadrant of the fridge is comprised of primarily beverages and salad. Buying groceries and cooking for just one person usually results in a lot of it going to waste, so I've gotten really lazy, which is sad, because I do actually like to cook. Except for meat- I do not like to cook meat. I don't know how and it tends to make me really sad, because I start thinking about all the lovely cows I have known...unless I'm particularly anemic, in which case I'm just like STEAKKKK. I also really really like to eat, and will do so with reckless abandon when given the opportunity- particularly if cheesecake, sandwiches, burritos or pizza are involved. Basically I'm JLaw but people don't find me nearly as endearing.

 

Six things I could never do without:

1. The internet. Duh. 

2. A decent sized public library. Libraries are hallowed ground and I refuse to live anywhere that does not have one. It is also unlikely that I will ever let you accompany me to the library because it is my sacred happy place and should not be disturbed by people I don't love. Ugh. I love the library, guys. 

3. Grocery stores. I need to have access to grocery stores. Even if I can't afford food, I like to be able to visit food in it's place of origin because it is reassuring to me to see that it is still there. 

4. Chapstick. Never get caught without chapstick. 

5. Drinkable water. Also vitally important. 

6. Memory foam pillows. I can sleep essentially anywhere assuming I can bring my own pillow. I had to go like three months without it last year and I swear that's why I got sick- okay, not really, but still. It was miserable. 

I spend a lot of time thinking about:

Traveling. What I'm going to eat next. How I look. If Amanda Bynes is really okay. If my family members are really okay. If we date I will spend a substantial amount of time thinking about whether or not you are okay. Food in general. Global affairs. How to explain difficult subjects to hypothetical future children.  If my hair is ever going to grow all the way back. Water.

On a typical Friday night I am:
With my friend John eating food that starts with a B and having deep important discussions about things that annoy us. This is a standing, high-priority date. I mean, we do reschedule occasionally, but mostly this is what my Friday nights are spent doing and it's lovely.

The most private thing I'm willing to admit:
I'm bipolar and scared of invisible monsters and I rap in the shower and freak out every six months thinking I have cancer. OH WAIT THAT'S ALREADY ALL OVER THE INTERNET. 

So on that note, if you're climbing all over yourself to date me I will be back on the market in March.

In the mean time, I'm going to make myself some ramen.