Tag Archives: blogging

Writer’s Block

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I went to the liquor store after work today. I wanted to buy something for my sister and I to have for my brother’s college family weekend in Connecticut. (You know, necessities.)

I always find myself observing everyone around me whenever I go to the liquor store. If I see an old person who looks slightly helpless, I wonder if they had just lost their spouse who used to do the shopping. If I see someone standing over the white wine selection with a furrowed brow, I wonder what part of their day drove them to try something new.

It’s silly, it’s probably all in my head, but it’s why I take 10 minutes in the store when I say I will take five.

Today, I was standing behind a man wearing blue scrubs. He had a 4-pack of hard ciders in his hands. He smiled at me with what seemed to be his last bit of energy for the day and I wondered why he was there. Did he have a hard day, and needed something to take the edge off? Or maybe he had a good one, and he felt like a little bit of a cheers were in order.

I hoped for the latter.

When I got to the front of the line and set down the craft beer variety pack I had picked out, the cashier asked to see my ID. He studied it carefully, glancing between the picture I routinely despise and my actual face.

My license still says “UNDER 21” along the top because I got it renewed in Massachusetts when I was 20 so that it would be ready in Delaware on my 21st birthday. (Again, necessities.) Sometimes that makes me look a little suspicious, so whoever is ringing me up usually takes extra precautions to make sure I didn’t hand them a fake.

Sure enough, he ran my ID through the little scanner and waited until the green light flickered. During this time, my face had fallen into a bit of a worried state. Even though I know my ID is valid, it still makes me squirm as if I were doing something wrong.

“You have to get this fixed,” said the man, as he finished the transaction.

“Yeah, I really should,” I agreed. “I got my license renewed before I turned 21 and have never bothered to change it.”

“Well, you should really get it fixed.”

When I left the store, all I wanted to do was write. I wanted to write about how I have some sort of Resting Confused Face that people seem always seem to detect. I wanted to write about how I am always too quick to explain myself to people, even strangers.

Then I thought back to the man in the blue scrubs and I thought, “eh, it doesn’t matter.”

And that is why it has been so hard for me to write lately. Everything ends with the same resounding feeling that it just… doesn’t matter.

I sit behind my keyboard, and I let the words pour out, but these days writing is more of a private catharsis than anything. I don’t know why, exactly, but something about sharing my thoughts feels off when there is so much going on in the world.

And this isn’t going to get political, although it damn well could. It’s just that everyday it’s something new to worry about, to feel sick to your stomach over, or to feel guilty about ignoring. With each passing thing that happens, I feel less inclined to say what I want to.

But that is not the mind set to have. Your words matter, my words matter, everyone’s words matter. I didn’t go to school to write only to be too afraid to share my work, and I sure as hell don’t want to say silent while You Know Who sends tweet after tweet from his toilet.

(Whoops, it got political.)

So, this is more or less a promise to myself that I won’t refrain from saying what I truly want to. More of a promise to share what I want to without worrying about how it may be perceived.

Because sometimes, I’ve realized, the only person who can give you a good kick in the ass is yourself.

American Horror Story: Awkward

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About five years ago, I went to my first party. At 17 years old, I felt ancient. I was so worried about being a great student and getting into my dream school, I forgot to make time to do normal teenager stuff.

So, I decided to give the party scene a go. I wasn’t ready to drink, so I would show up to every party dead sober and no one was the wiser. At that very first party I stumbled up the stairs, because of who I am as a generally clumsy person, and a cute guy who I didn’t know very well caught my arm.

“Woah, you’re having a good night!” he said.

I just laughed and ran up the stairs. (This was my first party, you really think I was going to throw flirting into the mix?)

I guess my awkward sobriety paid off, however, because I was invited to another party the following weekend. It was a Halloween party, and I was pretty excited.

First of all, when my parents asked where I was going, I told them I was going to a dance party. A DANCE PARTY! As if I was invited by Mary Kate and Ashley themselves to go drink fruit punch, sing about pizza, and engage in other wholesome activities.

(If at this point you have scrolled to the top of this story to confirm that I was 17 years old, yes, you read that right. I was such a late bloomer I had to pay fees.)

I showed up the Halloween/Dance/Definitely-Not-A-Dance-Party Party in my super cool costume that I thought for sure was going to be a hit. I decided to go as a Legends of the Hidden Temple contestant.

I was wearing my official Legends of the Hidden Temple team shirt. (I was a Red Jaguar, obv.) I wore khaki shorts, white asics, and to complete the look: elbow and knee pads. A friend had to talk me out of wearing a helmet.

When we finally got to the party, every girl was dressed in tiny, bodycon dresses adorned with various accessories. A lot of the girls had already taken off their cat ears or sailor hats, so virtually no one was in costume.

And there I was. With elbow pads on.

I thought I was going to pass out, which would have been totally fine because all of my joints would have been more than protected by all of the padding. What’s worse, is that no one even knew what I was dressed as.

The night was full of “so, what are you?”

“Uh, Legends of the Hidden Temple.”

“Oh.”

Also, every party I had ever been to up until this point had snacks. I literally did not eat dinner because I thought, don’t fill up, there will be snacks!

There were no snacks. There was a lot vodka disguised as Poland Springs, but no snacks.

Later on in the night someone saw me take a big sip of a nearly full water bottle and squealed with excitement.

“I didn’t know you were like that, Alexa!”

In a desire to really drive the point home that I was a nerd, I said “oh, it’s actually just water.”

Everyone sort of just walked away from me at that point and I don’t blame them. I had no business being there. I was absolutely not cool enough to be there, I had no desire to drink alcohol, and Oh My God was I starving.

I wandered downstairs to find my friends, only to find that the Halloween Party had turned into a Makeout Party. Shit.

I immediately spun around, looking for the nearest door out. For some reason, my instinct was not to turn around and go up the stairs I had just come from, it was to escape. I panicked and opened the nearest door. It was a closet, and the couple making out behind it did not appreciate the exposure. SHIT!

I finally found my best friend, who thankfully told me it was time to head out. We beelined out of there, internally screaming as the rest of the car gushed about their nights.

I looked down at my khakis. I couldn’t get over it. I am, clearly, still not over it.

When I watch Mean Girls now, I no longer have sympathy for Cady Heron when she dresses up as a vampire bride. She has my complete and utter empathy.

So, what have we learned from this story? Well, if you are either of my parents, you have learned that I did not go to a dance party.

And if you are neither of those people, you have learned that I am not the cool girl at parties. Or the bar. Or anywhere, for that matter. And its okay if you are not the cool one, either. We have fun in our own way, right?

No matter how much I might look like I know what I am doing, I will always be the Legends of the Hidden Temple girl on the inside. And, honestly, this bodes well for the rest of you, because my weirdness just makes you all look even cooler.

Wait a minute… is that why you guys keep me around?