What’s the point of life? No, seriously. What’s the end goal? Because, in my twenty-one years of existence, I have yet to come to many reasonable conclusions. Now would be the appropriate time to disclose that I am not religious, although quite frankly, I wish I was. I’ve made a valiant effort to believe in a God, go to church, pray before dinner. But due to the unfavorable nature of my existence, I have never be able to really accept the answers that religion has to offer. So I won’t discuss religion from this point on: this is purely an existential debacle I’m trying to smooth out here.

toothpaste

Apparently, this is a viable option to said toothpaste dilemma.

Let me tell you what life is like. You wake up at a time that feels unpleasing to your circadian rhythm. Because this is not your natural sleep cycle, you must check for minuscule events that might have happened on Facebook or Huffington Post while you were asleep, which is really just an effort to wake yourself up with the bright screen of your phone. Groggy and tired, you walk into the bathroom, and go pee (admittedly, one of the only enjoyable events of the morning), and then you set out to make yourself look mildly presentable. You grab the toothpaste, and spend at least 90 seconds trying to get the fresh, less crusty toothpaste past the hardened barricade at the opening of the tube. Annoying! You try to get that glob of stale toothpaste off and into the trashcan, but you use toilet paper, because it’s so gross to touch that sh*t. Well, the toilet paper is clearly not made for this kind of work, so now you have stale toothpaste AND little pieces of toilet paper at the end of you toothpaste bottle. Forget that, let’s go on to something else. Breakfast: the battle of willpower and masochism. Your options are slim. Do you cook something that’s only mildly enjoyable, like an egg and cheese english muffin, or sit in self-hatred as you eat something that’s quick, yet filled with poison like a toaster strudel? You can’t even enjoy those poison-laced pastries, because you can feel them rotting you from the inside out. Continue reading

Essays, Prose, Writing

A Not-So-Zen Essay on Life

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How to Use Chemistry to Fit Into Ankle Boots

shoesSo, I picked up these Steve Madden ankle boots from TJ Maxx only to find that they would NOT fit when I tried them on at home. Over 20 minutes of pulling and stomping (and admittedly, I threw them once), I put them in my closet to remain until I either A) cut them or B) put a zipper on them. But, an epiphany fluttered into my brain, and I remembered that heat makes things expand. Voila! I blow-dried each shoe for 5 minutes, then quickly put them both on. Piece of Cake.

 

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