this is a brief approximation
i just found a piece that I wrote shortly after moving to Olympia that was originally intended to channel the acidic humor of grand rapids but ended up being a bratty, masturbatory rant.
"I keep hearing about this process referred to as "finding yourself".
I have discovered that it is much easier to justify my relatively pointless and miserable migration to the West Coast by proclaiming myself has having been "found". "Oh, Washington. Yes, Washington has been just...great. Washington has been very...different, but the important thing is that I really just think that I've found myself," I tell my wide-eyed relatives. Yeah, I was on hold at the Olympia Hollywood Video, just waiting for some jackass to discover me and tell me that I'm an indie film masterpiece. I usually skip the part about hating everyone I meet and go straight to the part where I realized that I prefer whisky and seal-watching to human company, at least in Olympia. Interestingly, when I reveal that I haven't been able to get a single fucking day off from my shitty hot-dog stand job to actually go to places like Seattle or Portland, people act like I just said that I enjoy defecating on my partner's chest before intercourse. There went all my personal fortitude - because, obviously, Seattle is like the cultural fucking Mecca of the Northwest, and because, obviously, it is totally inconceivable for a person to exist in some meaningful fashion without living in a grossly expensive city or living in the Redwood Forest, which is, like, really hardcore. If anything, I learned to keep my responses to statements like "Oh my God, I loooooooooooooove Bellingham! I am soooooooo jealous that you live sooooooo close to Seattle" relatively short and generic. I end up hating fewer people this way.
Sometimes, I don't even have to pretend to have experienced monumental personal growth. At any given party or social gathering in the Midwest, someone, if not many hapless acquaintances, will assume that I've made great strides in my moral fiber. I've been given countless "props" for having the "balls" to move "so far away". I don't want props. My ego is already dangerously inflated. The next time you want to give me some props, just give me all your fucking money instead. For real.
West Coast mythology aside, I also noticed a couple of other facets to "finding yourself" that are no less obnoxious.
It's the well-loved phrase of women who have lost stunning amounts of weight and now note that more assholes take time to hit on them than before. It's like, "I used to feel invisible. I decided to submit to societal norms and maniacally monitor my caloric intake, cleverly combined with the novel notion of exercise. I didn't even need to ditch the camel toe. Now, I'm the girl they're talking about when they say 'Get Her Done!'."
What the fuck? I feel as though I need to point out the fact that, by and large, men will fuck anything that moves and is relatively willing. Alchohol, particularly the grain liquors and pilsner beers favored by the men in question, lavishly lubricates the whole process. Thus, I feel as though I need to emphasize the fact that these women have not so much found themselves but rather have been found by the local Coors-hound. Jesus Christ on a Cross, my future is bright!
I swear to God, the next time some bitch in her cropped Lycra yoga pants tells me about how much "energy" she has gained since starting yoga, otherwise known as losing a shitload of weight and claiming that fucking meditation made it just fucking disappear, I will shoot her. No joke. She shall die. I mean, there is the part of me that is annoyed by the implicit competition that this cunt rag introduced by being like "oh, I have soooo much energy but you're still drinking coffee!!", but it's also like, look. Just fucking look at me. Do I look like I give a shit? Absolutely not. I dress like the Dude from the Big Lebowski on a fairly regular basis, and I don't like to dress up unless I'm getting money or free drinks for my pretty presence.
I'm still not exactly sure what it means to have found one's self, but according to many people who write up complete bullshit from the comfort of their plush suburban homes and LA offices, my personal interests inhibit my personal growth. Namely, my brown liquor, illicit drugs and behavior, and occasional lethargy have continually been frowned upon.
I am certain that I am not the only person who harbors some skepticism towards these opinions."
jesus. so much for optimism. I still harbor some deep-seated hatred towards the following:
- state-controlled liquor
- shockingly poor fashion taste + completely staged disinterest in dress-up (skinny jean-wearers fall under this category)
- trendy liberals (but these fools are everywhere)
- trendy liberal v. 2.0: the trendy vegan
- the lethal combination of Stupid, Deranged, and Confrontational, particularly in hippie-format
- self-righteous motherfuckers
- smoking ban
- the price of literally anything that could be bought (because it is so unthinkably high)
- people who drive with no lights on at night (this is real.)
- apparent absence of social gatherings on any level, regardless of merit
- complete lack of social gatherings that are not elitist, boring, or remarkably smelly
these are things that I like:
- Thai food readily available (and not terrible)
- free public transit that isn't terrifying and/or shitty
- the $3.50 price tag of a bus ride to Seattle
- the sound and all of its creatures, such as seals
- the fishy mart
- the food co-ops
- the forests that inundate the city
- using a highway that rhymes with "high five"
- spectacular views of not one but TWO mountain ranges
- fucking huge clams called geoducks, the bodies of which resemble scrotums
- dogs everywhere and allowed in stores such that i might pet a cute one at will
- non-humid summers
- the food bank
- my house
- my roommates
- my school
- my professor
- some of my classmates
- kombucha tea
I think that this evens out pretty well. Oly is not that great unless you ally yourself with other people who are not native to Western Washington or maniacal Earth-Firsters. They are crazy, and not in the good or interesting way. there are, of course, exceptions, but they all moved to seattle or stopped drinking, so I stopped counting them. Otherwise, life's a hoot!
"I keep hearing about this process referred to as "finding yourself".
I have discovered that it is much easier to justify my relatively pointless and miserable migration to the West Coast by proclaiming myself has having been "found". "Oh, Washington. Yes, Washington has been just...great. Washington has been very...different, but the important thing is that I really just think that I've found myself," I tell my wide-eyed relatives. Yeah, I was on hold at the Olympia Hollywood Video, just waiting for some jackass to discover me and tell me that I'm an indie film masterpiece. I usually skip the part about hating everyone I meet and go straight to the part where I realized that I prefer whisky and seal-watching to human company, at least in Olympia. Interestingly, when I reveal that I haven't been able to get a single fucking day off from my shitty hot-dog stand job to actually go to places like Seattle or Portland, people act like I just said that I enjoy defecating on my partner's chest before intercourse. There went all my personal fortitude - because, obviously, Seattle is like the cultural fucking Mecca of the Northwest, and because, obviously, it is totally inconceivable for a person to exist in some meaningful fashion without living in a grossly expensive city or living in the Redwood Forest, which is, like, really hardcore. If anything, I learned to keep my responses to statements like "Oh my God, I loooooooooooooove Bellingham! I am soooooooo jealous that you live sooooooo close to Seattle" relatively short and generic. I end up hating fewer people this way.
Sometimes, I don't even have to pretend to have experienced monumental personal growth. At any given party or social gathering in the Midwest, someone, if not many hapless acquaintances, will assume that I've made great strides in my moral fiber. I've been given countless "props" for having the "balls" to move "so far away". I don't want props. My ego is already dangerously inflated. The next time you want to give me some props, just give me all your fucking money instead. For real.
West Coast mythology aside, I also noticed a couple of other facets to "finding yourself" that are no less obnoxious.
It's the well-loved phrase of women who have lost stunning amounts of weight and now note that more assholes take time to hit on them than before. It's like, "I used to feel invisible. I decided to submit to societal norms and maniacally monitor my caloric intake, cleverly combined with the novel notion of exercise. I didn't even need to ditch the camel toe. Now, I'm the girl they're talking about when they say 'Get Her Done!'."
What the fuck? I feel as though I need to point out the fact that, by and large, men will fuck anything that moves and is relatively willing. Alchohol, particularly the grain liquors and pilsner beers favored by the men in question, lavishly lubricates the whole process. Thus, I feel as though I need to emphasize the fact that these women have not so much found themselves but rather have been found by the local Coors-hound. Jesus Christ on a Cross, my future is bright!
I swear to God, the next time some bitch in her cropped Lycra yoga pants tells me about how much "energy" she has gained since starting yoga, otherwise known as losing a shitload of weight and claiming that fucking meditation made it just fucking disappear, I will shoot her. No joke. She shall die. I mean, there is the part of me that is annoyed by the implicit competition that this cunt rag introduced by being like "oh, I have soooo much energy but you're still drinking coffee!!", but it's also like, look. Just fucking look at me. Do I look like I give a shit? Absolutely not. I dress like the Dude from the Big Lebowski on a fairly regular basis, and I don't like to dress up unless I'm getting money or free drinks for my pretty presence.
I'm still not exactly sure what it means to have found one's self, but according to many people who write up complete bullshit from the comfort of their plush suburban homes and LA offices, my personal interests inhibit my personal growth. Namely, my brown liquor, illicit drugs and behavior, and occasional lethargy have continually been frowned upon.
I am certain that I am not the only person who harbors some skepticism towards these opinions."
jesus. so much for optimism. I still harbor some deep-seated hatred towards the following:
- state-controlled liquor
- shockingly poor fashion taste + completely staged disinterest in dress-up (skinny jean-wearers fall under this category)
- trendy liberals (but these fools are everywhere)
- trendy liberal v. 2.0: the trendy vegan
- the lethal combination of Stupid, Deranged, and Confrontational, particularly in hippie-format
- self-righteous motherfuckers
- smoking ban
- the price of literally anything that could be bought (because it is so unthinkably high)
- people who drive with no lights on at night (this is real.)
- apparent absence of social gatherings on any level, regardless of merit
- complete lack of social gatherings that are not elitist, boring, or remarkably smelly
these are things that I like:
- Thai food readily available (and not terrible)
- free public transit that isn't terrifying and/or shitty
- the $3.50 price tag of a bus ride to Seattle
- the sound and all of its creatures, such as seals
- the fishy mart
- the food co-ops
- the forests that inundate the city
- using a highway that rhymes with "high five"
- spectacular views of not one but TWO mountain ranges
- fucking huge clams called geoducks, the bodies of which resemble scrotums
- dogs everywhere and allowed in stores such that i might pet a cute one at will
- non-humid summers
- the food bank
- my house
- my roommates
- my school
- my professor
- some of my classmates
- kombucha tea
I think that this evens out pretty well. Oly is not that great unless you ally yourself with other people who are not native to Western Washington or maniacal Earth-Firsters. They are crazy, and not in the good or interesting way. there are, of course, exceptions, but they all moved to seattle or stopped drinking, so I stopped counting them. Otherwise, life's a hoot!