Tuesday, July 26, 2016

A Maserati Ride

*Disclaimer* This is NOT based on a true story. It is an exaggerated version of several stereotypical internet dating scenarios all mushed into one stupid fairy tale farce
Can you guess which fairy tale? I made it really obvious this time.


A Maserati Ride

                 We wished dating was simpler. We wished finding someone we really liked was easier. We wished we could bypass the whole guessing game and just get to the part where things made sense.
                We wished, and the world delivered. Should we have been careful what we wished for? That all depends on your experience.

                “Another dating app?” Rachel asked as she peaked over her my shoulder, “It kinda looks exactly like all the others.”
                “It’s called Dating Genie,” I wrinkled my nose and stuck out my tongue at her as she began to raid my refrigerator, “I don’t know how I like it yet. I haven’t even swiped right once.”
                “Swipe? Now, there’s a word I hear waaay too often nowadays,” Rachel began, “I'm glad to be done with that scene.”
                “You’re right…” I laughed, half ignoring her, “This is exactly like all the other dating apps. Left, left, left, right, left!”
                “So you finally right swiped?” Rachel danced suggestively across the kitchen floor holding a bag of grapes and a jar of mayonnaise, “Was it an insta-match, at least?”
                “What the hell are you making, Rach?”
                “A sandwich,” Rachel answered matter of factly, “Where’s the bread?”
                “Freezer,” I told her.
                “That’s weird, Jenn…”
                “Says the person making a grape and mayo sandwich.”
                “So did you insta-match?” Rachel asked again.
                “Um… no. This app sucks. I’m starting to think Dating Genie requires every user to have either a gun selfie, a shirtless gym pic, or a photo of their latest dispensary purchase. Why would I want to see their weed? Oh right, because I don’t.”
                “Haha! What? Lemme see these guys,” Rachel paused from making her sandwich to look over my shoulder again, “That guy is cute. Swipe right on him.”
                “No, it says he’s 5’8”,” I say after looking over his bio.
                “Oh my god, Jenn. So what? You’re like what, 5’2”?”
                “I’m 5’5”, and it’s a preference. I don’t find men under a certain height attractive. It’s science or something.”
                “Oh, well excuse me Miss Picky Pants,” Rachel returned to making her sandwich at the counter.
                “Well, I know what I like. Why settle for less?”
                “I guess” Rachel shrugged, “Do you want a sandwich?”
                “Not the kind you’re making…” I laughed as I swiped left to the rhythm of the song ‘peanut butter jelly time’ inside my head, “Oh shit!”
                “Sup? See somebody you know?”
                “No, I just accidentally swiped left on a really attractive guy. Like, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him in my dreams before. I think his profile was outlined in red too. What does that mean?”
                “Oh, well now you’ll never know,” Rachel shrugged again, “Or you can deactivate and reactivate and see if you can find him again.”
                “Yea but what was the red outliney thingy? It was different than the other profiles,” I looked over the screen for some kind of answer.
                “I don’t friggin’ know,” Rachel took a bite of her sandwich, “I just got married. I don’t use that crap anymore. Maybe it was a fake profile or something.”
                “Why would they call attention to a fake profile by outlining it?” as I said this, I spotted a tiny sideways heart with the sharp end pointing to the left of the screen and pressed it, “Hold on, I found something.”
                The screen on my phone yielded a wisp of pink smoke and a text bubble.

Change of heart?
Would you like to add 3 re-swipes to your
Dating Genie account for just $4.99?

                “$4.99 for 3 re-swipes?!” I exclaimed, “That’s more than a dollar per swipe.”
                “Well it’s a free app. They have to make money somehow,” Rachel scoffed, “Just get it if you really want to see this dream dude.”
                “Ok, here goes it. They better not steal my credit card info.”
               
                Five minutes later I saw him. Tall and strong with shiny dark hair, strong cheek bones, and piercing green eyes. His bio said he worked was a scientist/mechanical engineer, had never been married, and had no kids. He was looking for someone who loves animals and enjoys live music, the outdoors, and good food. His six photos were of the following:
1. Him standing alone in a suit in front of a snazzy office building. Presumably, a work related photo.
2. Him holding a puppy like a baby, smiling ear to ear.
3. A group of guys in a bar. He’s in there somewhere.
4. Some people rafting from far away. Water is spraying everywhere and the details of who’s in the boat are unclear, but the scenery around it is beautiful.
5. An old photo of a little boy and girl on a ratty old couch. The girl has her tongue out and the boy is giving her bunny ears and grinning wildly.
6. Iron Man? Or maybe just the guy in a head-to-toe Iron Man costume taken by a professional photographer.

The red outline around his profile had a header that read “Likealot”. I swiped right.

Wallah! Daniel has LIKEALOTTED you!
This means he finds your profile super special.
If you would like to LIKELOT Daniel back, please
press the double heart below his photo.


   I pressed it, sending a wisp of pink smoke swirling up the screen again.

Abracadabra!
You and Daniel have LIKEALOTTED each other.
Would you like to send him a message or
keep playing?

                “Ah-hah! I’m glad I bought those reswipes. This guy is amazing!” I clicked back to his profile and showed my phone to Rachel.
                Rachel shrugged again, “I guess.”
                “Are you kidding me? This is my ideal guy! And we both likealotted each other.”
                “What the f--, never mind. Just message him if you’re that excited. Do you have any balsamic vinegar?”

                That Friday evening I waited at the park down the street from my apartment, where I told Daniel I’d meet him when he picked me up for our date.
                At 7pm on the dot, the car slowly rolled up to the bench where I sat. The passenger side window rolled down and a wave of disbelief rolled over me.
                “Well good evening, ma’lady!” Daniel’s chiseled face smiled brightly at me through the passenger window from the driver’s seat.
                “A Maserati?” I tried to play it cool, but my response could have probably been described as star-struck.
                “Surprise,” Daniel’s voice was cool and collected, “You ready?”
                I nodded and stood to walk towards the car. Daniel came around to open the door for me.
               
                “It’s nice to meet you, Daniel” I held out my hand to him once we were both in the car, trying my best to be unawkwardly friendly.
                “It’s a pleasure, Jennifer,” he took my hand and kissed it lightly before setting my hand down on the center console.
I pulled my hand into my lap defensively, unsure of how to welcome the gesture.
“Where are we headed?” I asked him after a moment.
“Do you like Indian food?” he looked at with a raised eyebrow.
“I do.”
We headed downtown, and I turned to the passenger side window to hide that I was half smiling and half totally confused.
Do I like this guy? Or do I only like his car? And his face? Do I like him at all? How can I not?
I realized we’d said practically nothing to each other.
“So, at what company do you work as an engineer?” I turned to him and asked brightly.
“My own,” he bragged, “See, I grew up dirt poor. Like… shit poor. We had nothing! My toys were all pretty old and not very fun and I was an only child. So, I learned to build things. I was always fiddling with something and making stuff out of other stuff. I just loved to invent things, and that’s what I do to this day.”
“That’s awesome that you do what you love! I like that story. Have you worked on anything I’d know?”
Daniel snickered and wiped his eyebrow before speaking again, “Um… have you heard about the new Tesla?”
“The self-driving one, yes!” I exclaimed, “You worked on that?”
Daniel nodded and beamed brightly, “I’m working on that currently, actually.”
“No… shut up! That’s incredible.”
“Would you like to pick up this conversation inside?” Daniel had stopped the car in front of Diamond in the Rough, a swanky new Indian restaurant.
“I never actually considered going here?” I told him.
“Well why not?” Daniel chuckled.
“I don’t know. I didn’t think I was fancy enough, I guess.”
“Well you look nice,” he said coolly, “And as long as you have a reservation, they don’t give a crap how fancy you are.”

At the table, Daniel ordered an expensive bottle of wine and three appetizers.
“I can’t drink or eat all this,” I giggled as the appetizers arrived.
“Well it’s a good thing you’re not the only one here,” Daniel teased.
“Well I don’t want you to have to drive after drinking all the wine I can’t finish.”
Daniel gave me a sideways smile and raised an eyebrow confidently, “I know my limits.”
The server came by again and Daniel ordered a large Thali platter as our entrée.
So what do you do for fun? Tell me about Jennifer,” Daniel asked me his first personal question of the evening.
“Well…” I sighed, “Where do I start? I like to be outdoors, I write a lot.”
“Oh you write?” Daniel sounded excited.
“I do! Do you?”
“Yes, I’ve written plenty, actually. I’m about to publish a trilogy,” Daniel bragged.
“A trilogy? Are you publishing them all at once or one by one?” my question was delivered in a surprisingly confused manner.
“I’m going to do it all at once. Just get ‘em out there and then not have to worry about it. They’ve been done now for over a decade.”
“You wrote them when you were a teenager? Why’d it take you so long to publish?”
The server pulled the appetizer plates and set down the Thali platter.
Daniel grabbed a pita and dipped it as he spoke, “I wrote the trilogy when I was a kid actually. I had polio, so I spent a few years just laying around. I got bored and wrote this long, long story in my head. Then when I was about 15, I started to type it up.”
Through my tipsy haze, I could no longer control the growing doubt in my voice, “Didn’t polio go extinct before we were born?”
Daniel cocked his head and pursed his lips, “In America, yes. Both my parents are pediatricians, though, so we were exposed to everything. A lot of immigration from Europe happened here in the 80s and early 90s, and I ended up with polio.”
“Your parents are both doctors? Didn't you say you grew up dirt poor?” I was no longer holding back calling this guy out on his bullshit.
“Pediatricians don’t make as much as you’d think. Plus, they had so many hospital bills since I was always sick,” his facial expressions were still as calm and cool as the moment we’d first met earlier in the evening.
 “That’s fascinating…” my voice had grown damn near snotty at that point, but Daniel hadn’t even seemed to notice, “So, did anyone else get sick? Anyone in your house? Tell me about the girl in the old photo on your profile? Is that your sister?”
“Yea, that’s Samantha,” he smirked, “Ruddy little redhead.”
“I thought you said you were an only child.”
Daniel’s expression changed for the first time in several minutes. A look of sadness washed over him, “That was the last photo we ever got of Sammy. She’s been missing for almost 20 years.”
“Missing?” I tried to keep some compassion in my voice out of respect for the slim chance that Daniel may have been telling the truth, but I just couldn’t resist the urge to be a smartass, “Poor Samantha… Do you ever find out what happened? I mean, the truth has got to be out there,”
Daniel looked up at me, and for the first time all night, he looked uneasy. My phone buzzed in my purse. It was a text from Rachel.

So… how’s the date with Mr. Perfect going?

“You’ll have to excuse me for a moment,” I told Daniel as I stood up and headed the restroom.
Once alone, I pulled out my phone and called Rachel.
“Hey what’s up?” she answered.
“What… the fuck? This is the weirdest date ever! This guy has literally told me his life story three times already as Iron Man, George Lucas, and… fucking Fox Mulder!”
Laughter erupted on the other end of the phone, “I know none of those people’s life stories, Jen. At least you do. Do you think he’s a liar?”
“Oh, he’s a total compulsive liar. But he did pick me up in a Maserati and I wouldn’t have believed that either if he told me he had one. Maybe he’s just really interesting. I dunno, Rach.”
“Geez, he probably rented it,” Rachel sounded as if she had a mouthful of food, “Just tell him you need to leave. Tell him you just found out your best friend is pregnant and you need to see her tonight. Uber it over here.”
“Isn’t it bad karma or something to lie about pregnancy, even if it’s someone else’s?” I roll my eyes at her through the phone.
“Not if it’s true…” Rachel said, still chewing.
“Wait, what!” I exclaim, “You are?”
“Grape and mayo sandwiches, baby!” Rachel giggled happily, “Come over now! We have so much to talk about!”
“Oh my god! I’ll be there ASAP. I’ll just tell him you need me, but I might as well have him drop me off since you're only a few blocks from here. Besides, when will I ever get to ride in a Maserati again?”
“I don’t care, Jen. Just be careful. See you soon.”

I found Daniel leaving the men’s restroom as I exited the women’s.
“You ready?” he held out his arm to link with mine.
“You’re done already?” I asked, surprised.
“Yep, all paid out? Wanna get outta here?” he winked at me.
I smirked and shook my head, “I just found out my best friend is pregnant. Sorry to cut the night short but I’ve gotta head over there now. Would you mind dropping me just a few blocks from here?”
Daniel cocked his head at me, “It’s not nice to lie, Jennifer.”
“No, it's definitely not... Can we go please?”

“Turn left in two blocks please, and then it’s about three blocks down from there. Thanks for everything,” I forced a smile at Daniel as we exited the parking lot.
“No problem,” he smiled back, “Maybe next time we can actually stay out a little later than 8:30.”
“Yea… next time…” I said flatly.
We sat in complete silence for the next ten seconds.
“Hey, Daniel, you were supposed to turn back there. You missed the street. It’s… wait, there’s an ambulance or something trying to get through. You should probably pull to the right.”
Daniel looked nervously into his rear-view mirror but did not pull over.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Um… sure, but can you please pull over so that emergency vehicle can get through? We can worry about the turn in a minute.”
“Do you trust me!” the car picked up speed as he shouted the question at me again.
“No, not really!” I exclaimed, “Not at all. I’d like you let me out now. Please stop up there.”
The emergency vehicle had kept up behind the Maserati as Daniel sped towards the highway entrance.
“What the fuck! They’re pulling you over. You’re not going to be able to outrun them. Please stop the car and let me out!”
He pulled onto the entrance ramp, but a gaggle of squad cars had already flooded it, making it impossible for him to drive forward any further.
I reached frantically for the door handle, but he’d already thrown the car into reverse and had started to back up towards the road again.
“STOP!” I screamed, “Just stop the car!”
The Maserati halted then. We had backed into a squad car at the base of the highway entrance.
Daniel said nothing. His face was slack and expressionless and he slowly exited the car with his hands up. Unsure of what to legally do in the situation, I did the same.
I was approached by an officer and asked for my driver’s license before they cuffed me and sat me down in a squad car for questioning. 
“What’s your relationship with Dino Alverez?” the officer asked.
“First date,” I answered, “Told me his name was Daniel.”
“When did you decide to walk out of Diamond in the Rough without paying for your meal?”
“He told me he had paid while I was in the bathroom.”
“Are you aware the vehicle you’ve been riding in is stolen.”
“No, but it’s probably the first thing all night I can actually believe.”
“Ok, it looks like you’ve been through a lot here tonight. This guy’s a repeat offender and your record is clean. You’re free to go.”
They uncuffed me and I walked to the end of entrance ramp, where I took out my phone.

Thank you for ordering UberX! Rajesh will be arriving in 2 minutes.
Watch for the tan Toyota Corolla.

Are you sure you want to deactivate your
Dating Genie account?








               
                 



               
               
               


               


Monday, May 2, 2016

~Basketcase FAQ~ What tale is it and why is it in reverse? Is it based on a true story? And why did I choose to turn a villain into a good guy?


In the past I've written about how millennials love to pay respect to Disney by poking fun at it (I promise this makes sense, click here to read the original post)  Although I've talked about it quite a bit, I haven't written much about how I used Disney-stalgia to write Basketcase, A Classic Tale in Reverse.

Being a millennial myself, I know that I too am drawn to the melodic opening credits that prefaced many-a couch potato session throughout my childhood.

Stand to attention, please!

The gist of it is... I have a story to tell. On the surface, though, the story isn't a very pleasant one. If told it exactly as it happened, my book would have turned out as more of a Lifetime Original than a fantasy novel.

But I wrote the story anyway, replacing the people involved with already known and beloved Disney characters (names are changed for copyright reasons) and using the Disney theme and setting to keep the story intriguing. The weirdest part is, it actually worked! Are you intrigued yet? I hope you are. :)

People have a lot of questions though, so I've taken the liberty to answer some of them below.

What's the true story? And how did you convert it into a fairy tale?

My story, as candid as I can tell it, is about my ex and me. He was abusive (physically, verbally, emotionally, mentally, and economically) and I know I'll never be the same after what we went through together. For better, for worse, and for the freak-outs in between, my story has been nothing short of an adventure.

Beauty and the Beast (originally written by Jeanne Beaumont in 1756) is a story of a woman who transforms a man-beast into a charming prince with the magic of true love. The two live happily ever after at the end. 

Though a great story, I think we can all agree that Beauty and the Beast isn't realistic. It has no basis for real world application. What is Happily Ever After, anyway? What happens the next day? And the day after that?

There's been a lot of buzz the past few years on how Beauty and the Beast is not a good story for young girls. It's essentially about Stockholm Syndrome, a real disorder in which someone held captive eventually bonds with the person who has imprisoned them.

While this was not the case with my story, I saw something in this angle. In the original story, the beast is not a kind person. The reason he's a beast to begin with is because he refused to accommodate the witch who asked him for a place to stay for the night.

The idea that the story's heroine uncovers the kind, sweet, gentle nature within a very bad man is pretty far fetched. There are warning signs all through the story that the beast is not a good spirit. This is where I was able to work my own story into this fairy tale's theme. 

Does that mean Basketcase has a sad ending?

I won't spoil too much, but Basketcase has an open ending, dropping its protagonists right in the midst of three other well-known fairy tales. Which one will carry the sequel/prequel? *Shrugs* You'll have to read to find out.


What is the title about?

Basketcase is the nickname of the story's heroine, Olive. It is given to her by a man she meets in town. Given her haggard appearance and improbable backstory, she comes across as a "crazy person". Though in the book this happens early on, this concept was supposed to mimic how people treated me much later on.

I found that people don't want to hear or believe stories about abuse, so they'd shrug me off when I'd try and talk about it. My ex also denied everything or he told people I was crazy for talking about what had happened. This seemed to sit easier than the truth with a lot of people, which is unfortunate.

The name Basketcase is also a giant poke at myself. Did I act like a crazy person in the true-to-life story? At times, yes. I was very upset and no one wanted to listen to me about why. I'd often overreact or throw temper tantrums while recovering from the trauma of it all, which also becomes a major theme in the book.

The heroine in Basketcase eventually embraces the nickname, as I eventually embraced the idea that I'd probably never be the same as I was before and that I could use the experience in positive ways to better my future.


Why did you decide to rework Gaston's character, Jepson, into a protagonist?

This is probably my favorite twist on the original story. In the original outline, Olive was by herself for most of the story, although I soon realized writing and reading that much internal monologue was boring and repetitive. I decided Olive needed a friend in order to introduce more dialogue, but I didn't want to add any characters not found in the original story.

Rose, one of Olive's servants who takes on an unexpected role twist from the original story, seemed to be the obvious choice. Unfortunately, because of other factors essential to the plot, this idea did not work.

I figured at that point that if I was going to write the story backwards, I might as well write it ass-backwards and make Gaston/Jepson a "good guy".

The problem that arose from there was that I DID NOT want Olive to jump from one relationship to the next, and so I had to write the dynamic between Olive and her senselessly macho guy friend as believably platonic. Was a successful in doing so? You'll have to read to find out. ;)



So there's a sequel? A prequel? What's that about?

Well, there's a book 2, which continues along the same story line but in a different setting and with different characters holding similar story dynamics. Nonetheless, the story continues, but it also begins and sort of leads up to the beginning of Basketcase. It's sort of a prequel as well as a sequel. It's also a different story all together based on an entirely different fairy tale. You'll have to stay tuned to find out :)


Where can I find Basketcase?

Right now it's on Amazon paperback and Kindle ebook. You can find by clicking here!
I have also be approved for a local Colorado authors program, so hopefully you will soon see it in Denver area bookstores as well.




http://www.amazon.com/Basketcase-Classic-Reverse-Sarah-Jozwiak/dp/1519603517/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1459197808&sr=1-1

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Elige su manzana intoxicada

I needed you, but not in the way our friends seem to think I did. I was broken and blue and I had nothing to look forward to. I thought I wanted you, but we soon realized that wasn’t the case.

I didn’t want you, but I did need you.

I knew the journey from Rock Bottom to Bikini Bottom wouldn’t be easy, but I never imagined I’d have to venture the whole way single-handedly...literally and figuratively.
I couldn't do it alone. I needed a boost. I needed hope. I needed a role model.

I’ve never met anyone with whom I’ve have so much in common. You and I are so much alike. Scarily alike. Eerily alike. It’s unnerving to the point where I don’t even enjoy being around you.

Although back when, when I needed you, that was all I wanted. You were so positive, so friendly, and so driven. You were kind. You listened to me when I spoke and you'd remember what I'd tell you. You used your intelligence in ways that made sense to me. Your creativity was a tool you used productively, and you weren’t afraid to be expulsive about it.

Why couldn’t I do that?

I think I knew all along that getting to where I wanted to be was a choice within me, but part of me didn’t really care to find out. Everything I had worked my whole life to accomplish was gone, and so I didn’t want to try anymore.

In my adolescence, I had been a lively and imaginative person, bursting with creativity and inspiration. I thought that part of me had passed though. I’d written her off as immature and outlandish. I thought the “newer”, more “mature” me was quiet and reserved and…

Afraid…I was terrified to be me. I didn’t think being myself had done me or anyone any good, and so I was afraid to try again. I was scared of myself and of people in general. I had more than a lot of stuff to figure out, but I didn’t want to try. I was tired and emotionally ravaged.

But you? You laughed at failure. You waived at tomorrow. You shook hands with slim chance before charming it over.

If we were so much alike in every other way, why couldn’t I be like that too? Why did I have to be so downtrodden?

I know you didn’t understand what was happening at the time. I don’t blame you at all for resenting me for the way I acted. I’m ashamed of myself for it. I’ve never been so embarrassed about anything in my life. Never before had I acted the way I did, and I wasn't okay with it.

I didn’t like that side of me, and I didn’t like where I was in life. But changing those things was MY CHOICE, was it not?

Anger? Muse? Dead weight? Compassion? Choose the avenue wisely.


And with that, I begin my second novel.


Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Hey look! I'm an author!


Hey, look what I did. I'm an author! 

Basketcase, a Classic Tale in Reverse, is NOW AVAILABLE on Amazon Paperback and Kindle EBook

A fairy-taled scope on the very real issue of domestic violence and spousal abuse, Basketcase tells an age old story in an empowering new direction. 

The royal wedding is over, and Prince Adam and his very new and royally inexperienced Princess Olive of Sidney are ready for happily-ever-after. The two are madly in love and have everything they need or ever could want, until a very unusual chain of events destroys the couple’s good fortune overnight. Adam and Olive awake to find an entirely different version of the Land of Sidney where there is no royalty and no record either of them has ever existed. Their brand new home has become decrepit and is falling apart and their physical appearances have grown inhumanly monstrous and ugly. 
With no explanation as to what might have caused the changes and a town full of people who shun them, Olive and Adam find they handle the unfortunate events very differently from one another. The couple’s true colors guide them in opposite directions, while their relationship with each other is put to the ultimate test.


Monday, March 28, 2016

Basketcase, a classic tale in reverse

NOW AVAILABLE direct from the publisher.
Will be available on Amazon and Kindle April 1st (links coming soon!)

Found out more HERE!




A fairy-taled scope on the very real issue of domestic violence and spousal abuse, Basketcase tells an age old story in an empowering new direction. 

The royal wedding is over, and Prince Adam and his very new and royally inexperienced Princess Olive of Sidney are ready for happily-ever-after. The two are madly in love and have everything they need or ever could want, until a very unusual chain of events destroys the couple's good fortune overnight. Adam and Olive awake to find an entirely different version of the Land of Sidney where there is no royalty and no record either of them has ever existed. Their brand new home has become decrepit and is falling apart and their physical appearances have grown inhumanly monstrous and ugly. 
With no explanation as to what might have caused the changes and a town full of people who shun them, Olive and Adam find they handle the unfortunate events very differently from one another. The couple's true colors guide them in opposite directions, while their relationship with each other is put to the ultimate test.

Monday, November 2, 2015

Blogger Hiatus FTW!

THANK YOU to everyone who reads this. Seriously... whoever you all are, THANK YOU THANK YOU! You like me! You really like me!

It's hugely encouraging to have fans, even though I still have little idea of most of you are or why you guys like the 2015, The Year that Forgot What Year it is post so much...

For the next few months, I will be focusing on the final edit of my upcoming novel, Basketcase, a Classic Tale in Reverse which is set to be released on Amazon as paperback and Ebook in January of 2016. 



I will most likely not be posting blogs during this time. Please check back early next year for more Words of Whatnot. There's sure to be plenty of it brewing in my chaotic jumble of a mindpit until then and it'll be dying to bust out once I start up again. ;)

Life, the Universe, and the Pursuit of Happiness,

Sarah





Friday, September 25, 2015

We Were the High School Alt Couple

Has anyone seen this commercial going around about the High-School-“It”-Couple”?


Yea it’s dumb as shit. It annoyed the hell out of me, and not because the couple is “annoyingly cute” or anything. What I don’t like is the generalization that the nerdy girl would follow them around and fawn over them. Who does that?

It got me thinking about my high school days. Did I ever care about who the popular kids were? Did I even know which cheerleader was dating which football player? Eh… no…

Did I envy the prom queen’s crown? Eh… I don’t even remember who the prom queen was…

Were any of my friends ever jealous when “Samantha” got asked out by “the hottest boy in school”? 
No… we didn’t even have a “hottest boy in school”.

It was more like...
“Nicole likes Jason and Jason likes Nicole but not that Nicole a different Nicole and I don’t even know why anyone even thinks Jason is cute because Rob is way hotter and he likes Nicole but not that Nicole a different Nicole but she likes Josh who used to be super weird but he got way cool over the summer and now everyone likes him but he only likes Nicole but She Likes Todd!”

It was high school… there were no “it” couples. We don’t live in a 1960s teen comedy, Verizon!

Then I got to over-thinking (because I tend to do that) that if there was one couple who I’d have considered the “it couple” at my high school, who was it? Who did my friends look to as the “quintessential display of teenage romance”? Who did my friends go to for dating advice? Who did everyone just assume would be together forever?

I concluded that (at least in my circle of friends at the time)… and as strange is this for me to admit… the answer was… me. My high school relationship was considered the epitome if coveted teenage love…

Were we happy? Yes. Were we in love? Yes. Did we fight in the halls and then make up publicly an hour later? Yes. Were we hot? Sure.
Were we popular, though, like the kids in the commercial are supposed to be? By what definition? What does that word actually even mean?

Were we in Varsity Club or on the yearbook committee or did we shop at Aeropostale or— no stop… no… why does any of that crap have anything to do with anything?

What does “popular” mean? What defines it? I didn’t feel like we were popular at all at the time, but looking back it would seem that we were.

We had a big circle of friends. We got invited to a lot of parties. We knew people who’d get us into shows. My little Toyota Corolla was ALWAYS filled to the brim with people who wanted to “go with us”.

But…I was a 16 year old pop punk princess rocking Jncos and a No Doubt tank top. The white laces in Airwalks were replaced with one green lace and one pink one. I played a bright red Telecaster in an all-girl band called Post Male Sanity (check the initials… biotch!)
My boyfriend at the time? Well, the tall, rugged metal head in the beat up pair of Converse and the Megadeath t-shirt, of course!



Were we happy? Yes. Were we in love? Yes. Did we fight in the halls and then make up publicly an hour later? Yes. Were we hot? Sure.
Did I curl into the fetal position and cry for 6 months when he had to move away a year and a half later?
Um...no...





I was very very sad for like a week until I woke up one day and realized I had sprouted boobs. I was a 17 year old hot little piece of ass and I was single. The world was my literally my burrito (that sounds weird... note to self remove the word "literally")

Well… shit….


So what am I saying with all this? Not much actually. It’s just a really long and cooler way to explain and over-explain that the ideal society wants us to look up to is bunk. And that YOU (no matter who you are) are probably a lot cooler than you think. It’s all about #perspective. ;)