Hey there readers and breeders (yuck face).
How was everyone’s Halloween? Did you dress up? Go to any awesome parties? Make out with any major hotties? Isn’t the scariest part of Halloweekend the consequences of our actions? Fine. I’ll interrupt the introductory cheug with something even cheugier.
Rose and I watched Hocus Pocus on Saturday. It was the first time I’d ever seen it (you guys know how much I hate reminding you that I was such a reader as a child because my parents didn’t pay for cable and we only had PBS. It doesn’t add to the romanticized narrative of my writerly origins at all. It’s actually so embarrassing that you’re asking me to tell you this again).
Me likey the movie though.
Rose spent the afternoon scavenging things by the lake. By “things” I mean dried flowers, driftwood, and cinnamon brooms from Trader Joe’s (not used condoms, Coke bottles, or cigarette butts like some of you pervs). She set up a little altar for All Hallow’s Eve and I listened to Ribs by Lorde until we got too cold to stay any longer. Chani Nicholas, this is what a premium membership to your app gives me.
We looked exactly like a scene out of Greta Gerwig’s Little Women (if it took place in 2021 and there were only two sisters and Timothee Chalamet as Laurie was devastatingly in love with us). Rose was dressed in a white sundress, a Cheetah print coat, and hiking boots. I took on the ensemble of a frat boy. Baseball hat, tennis shoes, and Daddy’s plastic (do you like when I write in Wattpad prose?).
Am I an Amy or a Jo? Every Buzzfeed quiz says that I'm Laurie. I’m obviously not Beth because I would A) never suffer silently if I was sick and B) I don’t know how to play piano. I also can’t be Meg because I wouldn’t complain if a broke boy wanted to marry me. Well..maybe I would.
Rose is honestly the most interesting part of my life right now. We joked that she’s Zooey Deschanel and I’m the Property Brother she’s holding captive in an elevator. Is this why the most average dudes land hotties with blue hair and polka dot bookshelves a mile long? I'm so fucking jealous.
If I’m not a Property Brother (I don’t have a twin or a TV show–yet) does that mean I’m Joseph Gordon Levitt in 500 Days of Summer?
I haven’t seen that movie since 2014 (unless you count reading every Gender Studies 101 Tumblr paragraph detailing why he’s the villain). I love making narratives out of crushes (it’s why I studied English!). It does seem like it is time for me to enter that era of cinematography because I keep journaling shit like, Why does life have to be lived to get anything out of it?
Why can’t I stay locked up in chick lit and Lego Batman games? I want to read Perks of Being a Wallflower and pretend to be (lie about being) a wallflower. A lot of people would like me to behave more like one.
Social media almost allows for a temporary break in existence but it always asks for more than what you offer. Who am I to spam my stories with requests for love and then I run away from it? I’m scared to say how I feel until I don’t feel that way anymore.
I’ve been accused of sounding like a John Green novel which is, by the way, a slur.
Can you believe how disjointed and unreadable this entire post is? If Grammarly had her hands on this it’d be lit up like Brady Street on a Saturday night (if you didn’t get the reference that’s because you’re probably not a Milwaukee local like I am…).
I told y’all I’d be posting every week. Not that I’d be posting good shit every week. It’s all about balance love bugs. I’m douching the creative process this way. She’s unclogging and blogging. Can I copyright that?
Au revoir!
I feel so magnificently unclogged