Category Archives: Uncategorized

The State of The Union

I have been a serious grumpy gills. It’s only Tuesday. 

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My sass levels have been increasing at an exponential rate for the past few months. This week, however, they are off the charts. I just don’t have the same patience, sweet nature, or kind and considerate expressions that I use to have. Granted, my kind and considerate expressions were largely bullshit enacted because I viewed such behaviors as “polite” and “good manners”, they were rarely actually genuine.

I know, I know. I sound insensitive. Well, in many ways, I am. I rarely care about the “stress” and “insane schedules” of those around me. The way I see it, we are all busy in our own ways and more often than not, business is a choice. I don’t really care what happened to you on your way to campus, if you’re late for our group presentation, I just don’t like you.

But like I said, this week especially, I am a grumpy, grumpy gills. Largely this is because anyone’s “problems” seem insanely insignificant. Now, not in the sense that they are big babies or what is going on in their lives are unimportant. But solely in the sense that people take so much for granted and appreciate so little. And I am greatly at fault for all of that and more. 

  • Stop talking. The faster we get through this meeting, the more downtime/study time/personal time all of us will have tonight. STFU we do not care.
  • Oh don’t complain about your lousy night of sleep… you do not even know.
  • Midterms are making you want to drop off a bridge, are they? Wow.
  • Fulfill your responsibilities, be accountable, show up, try. If you can’t do these things, get out of my sight. I might snap you in half with my piercing words of shame.
  • Oh, you’re going to pretend like everything is fucking normal? Well it’s not. Stop pretending. I will slap you.

Ya, you could say that for a female I am slightly more aggressive than normal. I get shit done. I do it well (mostly). I work hard and long and I take no shit. But, patience is an attribute I should probably work on developing because it might like, come in handy sometimes.

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a man should never underestimate a woman with bigger balls.

I would like to shake THIS woman’s hand.

The Clusterfuck.

Some people say that bad things come in threes. Well, I’m not sure if there is any pattern or logic to shit shows. I prefer just to label a grouping of shitty things within a limited time period as a clusterfuck.

That, my friends. Is essentially the one word description of my life. However, recently said clusterfuck has exploded.

“First of all, how cool are you?” I demanded bluntly as I sat down in the fluffy chair. “Um… pretty cool I think” he responded. “Kay, sweet. Let me tell you about the CLUSTER FUCK that has been my week”. His eyes widened and then returned to a normal size almost instantaneously. “Ok then, I’m all ears”. And then it began to pour out.

“My mother went a-wol from Sunday to Thursday. I hadn’t heard from her, hadn’t been able to get in touch with her, nothing. Pissed at her, I actually became worried when my iMessages to her went from being delivered to nothing at all. Literally, what the fuck? I texted my grandmother. Here’s a brief synapses of the conversation…

  • ME: Ok, what is going on with mom? She’s unreachable.
  • GRANNY: I’m overstepping my bounds by telling you, but your father had a breakdown/suicide thing. Your mother went back to Europe on Monday, got him, and then they were medically evacuated to the States. They are back in the states now.
  • GRANNY: Please don’t tell your mother I let you in on any of this! Handle this like the strong woman you are, with grace and strength.
  • ME: Ok…

Of course, I decided the right time to text my grandmother all of this was during a class. So naturally, right in the middle of said class my eyes welled up with tears. What. The. Actual. Fuck. 

Now I’m freaking the fuck out ok, so I Facebook chat my mother and I’m like,

  • ME: heyyy, so i’m getting worried. my iMessages aren’t even being delivered to you, what’s the deal?
  • MOM: On the phone with your sister, I’ll call you after.

Then she calls. The details are limited and sketchy. My previous knowledge granted to me by my grandma helped me to realize that. They are at home, 2 hours outside of Hipsterville, the dog is still in Europe, dad’s ok, therapists, counseling, doctors appointments, jet lag, tired, breakdown, coworkers, medically evacuated, medical leave. The details blur into a dark cloud of confusion and what the fucks.”

I took a breathe. Literally a five minute backstory just word vomited out of my mouth at record breaking words per minute. He stared intently. “AND I’M PISSED!” I emphasized an extra hiss at the end of my statement, summarizing the confusing description like an audible period.

At least he’s chill with cursing.

Earlier that morning I called the Counseling Center at my university.

  • “Um hi, do you have an appointment at 9:00? It’s kind of like, an emergency,”
  • “If it’s a crisis, you don’t need an appointment, you can just walk in,”
  • “Ok, great! Ok, well then, I’ll uh, I’ll be in at 9:00 for my crisis”.

I hung up. That was fucking awkward. At 9:00 I strolled into the Counseling Center and a sassy black man welcomed me into his office.

As we stared at each other after my unloading of my insane story of the past week, the only thought I could form was God, I hope these walls are thick…

Now, I’m drained from all of this bullshit and don’t feel like elaborating right this second. I will, eventually, it is all apart of the story and of the chronic confusion. For now I will leave it that although my father attempted suicide, he is currently doing okay. BRB punching walls and eating chocolate.

XOXO,

Sara Wildes

 

 

12 Signs Being Ladylike Isn’t Your Forte-Buzzfeed.

My Life Encompassed in a Buzzfeed Video.

But really though. Accurate, accurate, accurate. Not to mention the last few seconds are all about #womenempowerment. 

I’ve never been more proud in the fact that I am not ladylike. Thank you, Buzzfeed!

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11 Signs Your Boyfriend Is Probably A Sociopath

HOLY FUCK YES.

Thought Catalog

My friend and I always joke that we only date sociopaths (also known as: soce, soce-eee-ohhh; soce-with-the-most; Brocio a.k.a. the Bro-soce). We do this because in reality it’s not at all hilarious that the crazies flock to us and attempt to play games with our heads and hearts, so all we can do is laugh at the bizarre and unrelenting trend. Kind of like when a dude breaks up with his girlfriend and that girl is automatically and irreversibly “so crazy, man.” I’d like to make the case for us females out there that have the fantastic misfortune of having exes that are Grade A, Christian Bale level, unhinged from any emotional reality. The bright side of our misfortune is that over the years we have recognized some red flags that may help others avoid the tumultuous and ultimately impossible relationship that is dating a soce.

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DO Date a Girl Who Travels

Well said.

the thai chronicles

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Recently a blog post went viral, translated into 16 different languages the post was called, Don’t Date a Girl who Travels. Wonderfully written and accurate in the description of an independent woman who can’t be tied down, a woman meant to explore, a woman who should not be held back.

I read this post and smiled, recognizing many of the values identified as ones that I have discovered in my own life of travels. It’s tone empowering, fierce, a life lived unconventionally, a women wisely choosing to follow her own will, not that of someone else’s.

Yet I couldn’t help questioning; Why not chase life right along with her? Why has an article celebrating a passionate woman ended with a proclamation to let her go? Why is confidence and daring curiosity in women so often paired with solitude?

So, here goes my response…

Do date a woman who travels.

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The Dick Pic.

Disclaimer: Do not get too excited, this “Dick Pic” is not what you’re thinking it is. At all. 

Typically, I would describe myself as a rather serious and mature young woman. I am driven, motivated, and hardworking often to excruciating and unnecessary levels. But today, I became a 12 year old boy-that is, maturity wise.

1 hour into my horrendously dull 1 hour 15 minute science class, the professor drew a diagram on the board. Now, this story is slightly lack luster because I was trying so incredibly hard to stifle my laughter that I don’t have the slightest clue what the diagram was meant to represent. Something about DNA/RNA, something boring as fuck.

All I saw was a dick.

While she obliviously continued her lecture, adding what my mind viewed as little ball hairs to her biological depiction, I did everything I could to keep my shit together. I bit my tongue, my cheek, I faked a cough, I looked away. All of said attempts failed tragically. Over the past five or so classes, I’ve bonded with the dude next to me over the exceptionally boring nature of the class lectures and we again bonded over our immature brains that we

  1. could not turn off
  2. could not mask with maturity

“Do you see that?” he whispered. “Um, yeahhh.” I spoke my words to the top of the table without making eye contact. Surely, if I looked at him, I would lose it all together and burst into laughter and hysteria. I only had to attempt to maintain my composure for about 3 minutes, but it felt like an eternity. I could feel the red in my cheeks. Dear God, how old am I?

Unfortunately, I did not get a picture. After the explanation she erased the giant chalk penis and moved on.

Moral of this story:

  • it is ok to occasionally act like a 12 year old boy
  • bonding with your neighbor is always worth it
  • there is value in being able to take sneaky iPhone pictures unnoticed
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Ice in Hipsterville.

Ok, so in attempt to maintain my anymonity I have created a fictitious city in which I live; Hipsterville. One hint about Hipsterville is that it is a city where there is over 300 days of sunshine a year and the average annual temperature is about 80 degrees F. That is why it is exceedingly odd that there have been TWO ice days in the past week.

It’s 28 degrees F. outside and I have not left my bed. WOOH.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays I have three classes back-to-back. But today, the professors for my first two classes canceled for our safety. In Hipsterville, we cannot drive in the ice/snow/sleet/rain. Myself included. These cancellations give me four hours back to my day and I’m seriously weighing my options for day drinking (I guess technically it would be morning drinking).

The only things saving me from my foolish ideas  are that my bed is warm and the fridge is a good 20 steps away.

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Downward spiral? I think yes.

Yesterday, I got drunk in the library. That, my friends, is a new low.

But really, it was fun. I hung out with my good friend Avery and drank Woodchuck and bitched about life. After two, I took off to the library to ya know, be studious and shit. I took a seat next to Brittany and handed her a Woodchuck, because yes-I had them in my backpack. Brittany and I proceeded to wrap our cans of Woodchuck in paper towel and continued to “study”.

With four Woodchucks pulsing through my bloodstream, I finally gave up, took a walk in the cold to wake up and regrettably drove home. At home, I poured a bubble bath, continued to drink one final Woodchuck and then thought about crying. But that is as far I got, just thinking about it.

Things suck right now. It’s really frustrating that I automatically try to be positive because sometimes I just want to be like YES-THIS FUCKING SUCKS RIGHT NOW. And have that be ok. So in honor of that, here is a list of everything that currently fucking blows.

  1. I did not get into JET
  2. I’m still expected to study for Japanese
  3. Dexter’s birthday is tomorrow and I feel guilty and literally confused about if it’s mean to not say Happy Birthday-WHY?
  4. He cheated so I know its ok to not say happy birthday. Repeat, he cheated.
  5. I have a cold
  6. My colleagues probs don’t like me
  7. My mother’s degenerative disease is worsening and it’s an unspoken rule that no one speaks of it…
  8. So naturally, my mom hasn’t even texted me in like, four days.

Automatic guilty feelings! It feels so wrong to be negative or to admit what’s wrong! 

But ultimately, it’s ok to voice that things are hard. Being positive all the time is exhausting.

And that my friends is why I am currently drinking ANOTHER Woodchuck… ANNNND goodnight!

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You are not the hero in this story.

Dear Dexter,

The reason you were cheating scum doesn’t sound so horrible at first. You just wanted to be there for everyone else, with female genitalia that is. You wanted to help, to listen. You wanted to pull every damsel in distress out of their terrible demise. You tried to save

  • the anorexic
  • the bulimic
  • the grieving
  • the insecure
  • the second best

Even though your “intent” was to save the world, that was merely your MO (which I just googled-it means Mode of Operating FYI). Yes, you sought after those who needed saving, but your true intentions were to be needed; be the hero and knight in shining armor. You didn’t attempt to save these girls for their benefit, you did it for yours.

This is the reason why I view you as a predator. You prey on those who are vulnerable and those who you gauge as “weak”. You saw my weakness when we began our regretful endeavors two years ago. I had just resurfaced from a terribly oppressive and emotionally abusive relationship and boy, did you swoop in and save the day. But soon enough, I healed the wounds inflicted from the boy that hurt me before you. Once I lacked the need to have you as my hero and you became my equal, my partner, you had to take every opportunity to bring me down. You

  • told me about the people who didn’t like me
  • made me question my friends and challenged my morals
  • cursed and shouted, calling me names like slut and whore
  • repeatedly pushed me to seek treatment for disorders I DO NOT have
  • suggested I had MAJOR emotional disorders, you even tried to accredit it by saying your “therapist” said I did. LOL

Confession: I am totally that girl who loves the Pinterest Quotes board. I came across one the other day that is directly applicable to your shitty-ness.

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Fact. 

So Dexter dearest, I hope you enjoy living in my shadows. Fuck off now please.

 Sincerely,

Sara Wildes 

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