WHY AM I WRITING? (OH RIGHT, INSOMNIA)

Dear Reader,

I can’t sleep. I’ve read a book for class. I’ve come up with scenarios in my head to try and inspire some dreams. I’ve even written down a few of these late night thoughts. 

And then I thought, Sammy, why don’t you just write something for your BLOG? 

So I started writing a list. A list of things that this blog post could be about. But then I realized that this list is not producing any quality, uplifting ideas. 

Why? Probably because it’s 2:30 and I’m sad because I’m thinking too much and my brain sort of sucks. 

My list began with: write about how uncomfortable I am. Because I literally am never comfortable in my own body. Never. I always feel too big or too pasty or too clunky or clumsy (but not in the good way). And I thought, I could write about that because that’s relatable, right? 

Except that post would be depressing as shit and I’ve already cried tonight. So no thank you. 

Then I thought, ooh your birthday’s coming up! Write about that! But my first thought was I hate birthdays. And then I thought, wow I can’t believe I’ve already reached that age. And then I thought, shit wait I’m way too young to be hating my birthday. I should be looking forward to it and making plans and texting all my friends about it…

…but instead I’m just anticipating more disappointment. And realizations. And sadness. 

And then I thought, well shit Sammy, don’t write anything at all then! Because every thought I have late at night is self deprecating and they definitely don’t deserve to be recorded–mind you, published on your blog. 

But I’m in the middle of doing that right now, aren’t I?

Where are you going with this Sammy?

Freshman year I wrote a post about how everything is harder at night. Maybe it’s because my head is spinning a mile a minute about all the mistakes I’ve made today. Maybe it’s because my house is creaking and I’m still lowkey afraid of the dark (and ghosts, and serial killers, and did I lock the front door?). Maybe it’s because I’m just alone with ME and who I am as a person and I haven’t really learned how to love myself yet. 

But the night is hard. It hasn’t always been, but suddenly now it always it. 

Yet every morning after I cry myself to sleep, I wake up with the sun and things seem easier. 

Things may never BE as simple as they seem in the morning–before you have time to over analyze it all–but they’re also never as hard as they seem at night. 

They’re just things. Things that can be dealt with in the morning. Or the afternoon. Or the early evening. 

Things that can be dealt with by myself or with the help of friends or my sister. 

Things that have no place being dealt with right now because what am I going to do about it at 3AM besides worry?

Nothing. 

3AM is not for thoughts. 3AM is for sleep.

(Actually I might tweet that lol)

And while that might be easier said than done, maybe if I repeat it enough, it’ll happen. I’ll finally sleep.

And then the morning will come and I’ll roll my eyes and laugh at this blog post because I am probably being way too dramatic for a twenty year old. 

Sincerely,

Sammy

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HAPPY VS. SATISFIED

Dear Reader,

Lately I’ve been waking up around 7 or 8 every morning, completely exhausted, but I’ll force myself to get up and go on with my day (forgoing my daily nap, I might add) until I decide it’s time to turn in–well, until Sarah decides it’s time and I follow suit. This is normally around 10pm, but I never fall asleep before midnight.

Instead, for those two hours (sometimes more like four hours) I think about life. Obviously. Because that’s what people do when the sun goes down and the world gets a little quieter and they’re forced to be alone with their thoughts.

Tonight’s topic of choice (I mean, not that I have much say in where my brain wanders) is life in general and, well, the pursuit of happiness I guess.

It kind of started with me thinking about where I want to go in life. I still want to be a teacher. I still want to write novels. I’m on pretty solid paths to both of these careers, I’d like to think, but I’m not ready for that stage yet.

I’m only (almost) twenty–and actually, maybe that’s why I’m having all of these thoughts. All of these clichéd, angsty thoughts about how much I feel like I just don’t fit in anywhere and how much I continue to crave the approval of others. As much as I hate to admit it, I care way too much what people think. I want people to like me and when they don’t–which I always feel like they don’t–I curl up further into my shell where the wheel of self-deprecation is turning faster and faster. The repeating thoughts of how annoying or awkward or ugly or stupid I am just repeat like overused mantras.

And maybe that’s the root of my problems, but that’s not even the main subject of what I was psychoanalyzing tonight.

All I kept thinking to myself was, I am so unhappy.

Just repeating, over and over, I am so unhappy playing like a record in my head until I decided to abruptly rip the needle from the groove and force it to be silent. Because I had a correction: maybe I’m not unhappy, maybe I’m just not satisfied.

After all, I have plenty to be happy for! And I know that’s not exactly how it works, but if you look at my life or you walk a day in my shoes, you would find plenty to smile about. So why is it that I find myself crying the minute those days turn to night?

I must just be unsatisfied.

I still see myself as a pretty ambitious person. I haven’t necessarily given up on my big dreams from my childhood (besides, well, the lounge singer in England or the cellist in the Broadway pit). And maybe I’m just living a wildly unfulfilled life, but I’m twenty. I still have plenty of time to get to those big plans of mine.

But satisfaction isn’t happiness in the same way that unhappiness isn’t dissatisfaction. You can be satisfied with a performance and still be unhappy in the same way that you can be happy and not yet satisfied.

Ah, we’ve reached the part of the post where the rambling becomes mundane and repetitive, so I better wrap this up.

This isn’t a post about depression and this isn’t a post to say I’m going to kick myself into gear and finally try to get some fulfillment out of my life (though I probably should).

This is just me trying to get my thoughts down in order to understand where I’m at a little better. And I think we’ve all come to the conclusion that I’m just another average twenty-year-old girl who’s trying to gain some kind of control on her life, all too aware that she’s just another cliché.

Sorry for the word vomit.

Sincerely,

Sammy

LATE-NIGHT LYRICS

Dear Reader,

I want to get back to blogging–especially now that summer is (practically) here and I have much fewer obligations.

I’m having a little bit of writer’s block, though. I have been writing, but nothing I finish sees the light of day because it’s either too long and wordy, too dark, or just too incoherent. None of it is of quality and I don’t want to post just to post.

But that’s kind of what this is.

I mean, not really. I was just listening to some songs and these lines would jump out at me and be so relatable that I would just pause what I’m doing and stare into space for a minute, letting the words sink in.

I wrote down some of these lyrics tonight and thought I’d share them. Back to back they seem random. There are definitely recurring themes, but there are also contradictions. And some don’t even relate to my life specifically as it is now. I just generally resonate with all of these words.

And besides, they’re all good songs so I thought I might as well share something.

Maybe after this one of these lyrics will spark something in me and inspire a blog post that isn’t entirely made up of things someone else has said.

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“If I could be just one thing, I would be what you’re craving … but I’ve lived long enough to see you will never be craving me.” Iris – Mike Posner

“She just wants to feel something and I don’t think that’s asking for too much.” She Lays Down – The 1975

“And I don’t want a never ending life. I just want to be alive while I’m here. And I don’t want to see another night lost inside a lonely life while I’m here.” Spirits – The Strumbrellas

“I don’t have the right to ask you where you go at night but the waves hit my bed to think someone’s in your bed. I get a little bit Genghis Khan, I don’t want you to get it on with nobody else but me.” Genghis Khan – Miike Snow

“All alone I watch you watch her like she’s the only girl you’ve ever seen.” I hate u I love u – Gnash

“Don’t wish, don’t start. Wishing only wounds the heart. I wasn’t born for the rose and the pearl. He loves her so, I’m not that girl.” I’m not that girl – Wicked

“All of your flaws and all of my flaws they lie there hand in hand. Ones we’ve inherited, one’s that we’ve learned, they pass from man to man.” Flaws – Bastille

“I’m stumbling off drunk, getting myself lost. I am so gone, so tell me the way home. I listen to sad songs, singing about love and where it goes wrong.” One – Ed Sheeran

“And my hopes, they are high, I must keep them small. Though I try to resist, I still want it all.” Fools – Troye Sivan

“Don’t go out much at all. I’ve never been the type to call. I realize to be happy, maybe I need a little company.” Happy – Marina & The Diamonds

“I would rather be at home all by myself not in this room with people who don’t even care about my well-being.” Here – Alessia Cara

“If I’m honest I know I would give it all back for a chance to start over, rewrite an ending or two for the girl that I knew.” (And honestly the whole chorus) She used to be mine – Sara Bareilles

“There is a map in my room in the wall of my room and I’ve got big, big plans.” Maps – The Front Bottoms

Sincerely,

Sammy

 

SOME LATE NIGHT THOUGHTS ON HYPNOTISTS

Dear Reader,

I really don’t know a lot anything about hypnotism separate from the time when a hypnotist came to Miami for our back-to-school event my freshman year–and I wasn’t even in the audience for his show. I just heard that everyone was blown away because of the way he hypnotised these people.

But for some reason, my brain has decided to really speculate the effects of hypnosis and really think of it as this power that could be used for good. And sometimes when my brain is overflowing with thoughts, my go-to instinct is to open a word document or a note page (or twitter) to catch some of them.

These thoughts could not be condensed into 140 characters, however, so here we are.

I really just want to get these thoughts out and, like, talk to someone about this, you know? I guess this is where another person would come in, but it’s 3AM and no one has reached out to my tweet so I assume they are all asleep (Or not in the mood to amuse me).

Which brings us to the present, where I am communicating these ideas to you.

Alright, first of all, can I please just be hypnotised so that every time I hear the word “kazoo” or something I go and do all of my homework? And then like every night I can have my roommate or someone be like, “Sammy, kazoo,” and my face will go blank as I fall into this trance and sit down at my desk to complete my work. And then in an hour or two, she can be like, “Sammy, tapioca,” and I’ll come to and my assignments will be completed.

Of course, this can prove tricky if the person hypnotised can’t remember what happened while they were under, but all I’m saying is what’s the use in having a person start acting like a chicken every time a word is said when instead you could be like, “hey guess what, every time someone says peanut butter pudding, you’re gonna make your bed” or “you’re gonna clean your room” or “you’re gonna call your mother” (that last one would be hilarious).

But then this brings me to the questioning of how words are chosen–or do hypnotists even leave their participants with this quiet life change? Or do they reverse it before they get off the stage? Because if not, do these people have to disclaim that they did this thing once before freshman year and now they have this strange trigger word? Or would they even know??

Can you imagine if you were on a date with someone and they were like, “hey, I just want to be upfront with you. You can’t say *passes paper with a word written on it* (side question: can they say the word themselves?) around me because I will immediately jump up and start doing “Gangnam style” until you say rowboat.”

What if that were the norm? Hahahaha can you imagine??

And yeah, so how do they choose the words? Because, sure, I don’t think I’ve heard the word “kazoo” said aloud in quite a while, but the possibility is still out there, you know?

Anyway, I don’t know where I’m going with this. I just have a lot of unanswered questions but I don’t want to actually start Googling them because I have work I can be doing and I’m afraid I would spend far too much time doing research if I start going down that slippery slope.

I just really want to be hypnotised to run a few miles when someone says “trenchcoat lingerie” (I feel like that one’s safe) because running is one of those things that could benefit my body so much if my brain would just get out of the way–as are many things in life, I feel.

Man, did I just have a philosophical breakthrough?

Let this be a lesson to everyone that you should always encourage and amuse your “pass the blunt” thoughts.

Sincerely,

Sammy

HOW DID WE GET HERE? I’M NOT SURE, BUT THANK GOODNESS WE DID

Dear Reader,

My friend and I were texting back and forth today freaking out over Hamilton because our mutual friend/co-worker just sent us a link to watch the entire musical.

She said, “I am indebted to Elise for eternity!”

And I responded, “Honestly, who knew working at King would make my life so much better??”

It might seem small to use Hamilton as an example (although it’s really not because I honestly think this musical has changed me), but I think about this kind of thing all the time.  

Think about all the decisions you’ve made in your life that have led you to this exact moment right now.

It may seem petty because I’m currently sitting in my dorm room with the lights off listening to Miley, but do you ever just think about everything you have, and everything you did that indadvertedly brought you here?

I think about this a lot when I think about the people I have in my life. I mean, just look at everyone I’ve met at college–they all had to decide on Miami. They might have gotten rejected from different schools or maybe weren’t offered as much money other places or maybe this has been their dream school for years. There are so many factors that brought them to this school, but even that didn’t guarantee in us meeting.

For Ciara and Becca, they had to decide to rush. They went through the same two-week process that ultimately led them to choose Phi Mu. And then it just so happened that our heart sisters were friends and brought us to the same pre-game in which we all bonded over the thought of ghost-hunting at Peabody. From that initial click they’ve become the two closest sisters I have.

Ashley and I probably never would’ve met if she hadn’t roomed with Alex first semester, and if Alex hadn’t reached out on Facebook, trying to meet new people. I mean, sure, she lived in the same dorm as Jaden and I, but we really didn’t talk to a lot of people in that dorm. If it weren’t for Alex, Ashley could’ve been just another face I passed on campus that I recognized, but couldn’t quite place from where.

And speaking of Jaden–if she hadn’t moved to Ohio–if she hadn’t moved into our neighborhood and rode our bus–and joined orchestra–and decided on violin the same time Lekha was switching from the bass–well, we might not have ever talked, either. And if the sale on her old house had gone through (which it was so close to doing), we surely would have lost touch and never grown as close as we are now.

There are so many people like that–Andrew who happened to be in my MAC class freshman year and, because of our final project, we decided to follow each other on Twitter and turned out to be friends that way (technology is great, people). Victoria, a senior in Phi Mu who I never would have met if I hadn’t been placed in the back room because I missed some of a workshop because I went and saw Ed Sheeran in Cleveland because my sister and mom bought the ticket as a surprise (if I had known about it, I would’ve told them to choose another concert so I didn’t have to miss Twenty One Pilots).

And even Sarah was a mistake. I joke about this a lot because my mom let it slip a few years back that she couldn’t remember to take her birth control with two kids under the age of 3 running around and–poof–Sarah was made. But I feel like it’s okay that I can make these jokes because Sarah knows how blessed I feel that she is in my life–how she is honestly the greatest gift I have that I never have (and never) will truly deserve.

It’s hard when people ask if you believe in fate, because you like to believe that you’re capable of being an agent of change. But honestly, with stuff like this, I think it’s hard not to believe.

All of these people, plus so many more have come into my life for a reason, I think. And there are so many choices that are involved, it’s hard to think otherwise. My life would be completely different if I had chosen to go to another college. Or if my parents had decided to live in another city. Or if my mom didn’t answer the phone that day (I’ll tell you guys the story about how my parents met later).

So yeah, I think I do believe in fate or destiny. I don’t think it’s an excuse to not work hard or that it’s the idea that things will just fall in your lap. I just think there are some parts of your life that are meant to be, like having a sister or meeting your best friend, that can’t possibly be explained otherwise.

Anyway, sorry for the long rant. It’s just sometimes at night I think about how glad I am that I chose Miami and that I decided to work at King when I was a freshman and that I added my journalism major just late enough to only have options of force-adding classes like that MAC one.

And how damn fortunate I am that my mom couldn’t remember her birth control.

Thank God Sean and I were little hellions.

Sincerely,

Sammy

WE’VE ALL GOT A TYPE

Sometimes I wonder,

when I’m sprawled across your bed

and the sun is just starting to rise,

How would you describe this moment?

If you had to write it down–

If you had to capture it,

What would you say?

What would you notice?

Would you talk about the way the light hits my skin?

Or the separation between my lips,

or the curve of my back?

How would you describe my stare?

Would you call it pensive,

or vacant?

Would you wonder about the thoughts that lay

just behind my eyes?

 

But then I snap out of it,

look over at you,

and realize what’s happening

and who we are.

I didn’t find you pouring over literature in coffee shops,

I find you in math lectures.

I see you solving calculus problems,

not writing poems in the park when you’re in love

and suddenly everything looks beautiful.

And maybe you don’t even fall in love,

because you choose numbers over words every time.

So I stop thinking of the words you’d assign to me

when I’m staring into your eyes

or playing with my hair.

And I wonder if I’m just another number to you.

and what that number is.

A LITTLE BIT OF A LATE-NIGHT UPDATE

Dear Reader,

I’m going to try to make this quick because if I write down all the thoughts in my head, it’ll get real deep, real fast, and we don’t have time for that. So I’ll summarize.

First, I have two blogs I just need to mention because they’re written by two very good friends of mine and I’m low-key obsessed with them so I feel weird that I haven’t mentioned them before. But on NYE I asked them if it would be okay if I “promote” them (I guess you could call this) and they said yes so hopefully they remember this and say it’s okay that I’m doing this.

Sad Spotify Playlists is written by my friend Zach and is great for the most ludicrous stories as well as deep thoughts and, uh, vlogs now I guess? (lol)

And Horizon Wanderer is beautifully written by my friend Maddie. In fact, it was one of her most recent blogposts (linked here) that made me want to write this one. I honestly felt like someone was narrating my life–or, rather, transcribing my inner monologue into something worthy of being read.

I mean, THIS: “Casual conversation is a thicket of thorny possible missteps because somewhere along the way I became so concerned with what other people think of me.”

No matter how many times I’ve tried to put that same sentiment into words, I’ve never found the right way to say it.

But anyway, I’ll write (much) more on those two later, but they deserve to be in the update.

Second, NYE was great, in case I haven’t mentioned. Again, I’ll write more on that later, but I just had to throw that in here because those two made up half of the wonderful entourage that invited me to ring in the new year with them and it’s just setting up 2016 to be amazing.

Third, I just saw Sisters with Sarah (typical) and it was hilarious and awesome because the entire time we would just lean over to each other and either say “me” or “you” and then we’d laugh at ourselves.

(Also, in case you haven’t seen the movie, I am Tina Fey who is irresponsible and messes everything up but still refuses to take 100% of the blame because, like, come on, things are hardly never 100% one person’s fault. And Sarah is Amy Poehler who is hilariously and hopelessly awkward with boys and weirdly loves and communicates with her parents even when she is 40. This is accurate representation.)

Fourth, I’ve been writing weird pseudo poems and little things that I might start posting on here but hardly any of them really truly relate to my life so people who actually know me, don’t be alarmed/weirded out/I don’t know what you think of me.

Fifth, I’ve been instagramming a lot more recently which is really not a big deal or deserves to be mentioned, but this means that I am actually taking pictures. And yes I’m also using HELLA filters, but we’re making steps in the right direction so that’s positive.

Sixth, I REALLY want to dye my hair blue (I know I talked about this a year ago, but it’s resurfacing.)

Like this:

More on than later. (I’ll probably make another “If We Were Having Coffee” post soon.)

Seventh, The Happiness Project is in full swing, people! I think it’s gonna be a good.

Okay, I think seven is a good number to stop on. (Worked for Rowling, right?)

Have a nice night, everybody.

Sincerely,

Sammy

SOMETIMES I WRITE CRAPPY POEMS IN MY NOTES AND FIND THEM LATER

I often find myself reflecting at night,

Thinking about this diagnosis I try to pay no attention to while the sun is up. 

And sometimes I’ll slip and think, 

“Well, of course. Anyone with my life would be depressed.”

But I know that’s wrong. 

I have so much. 

I’ve been given so much. 

I’m so fortunate for it all. 

The unfulfillment and self-loathing and all these thoughts are separate,

For I recognize my life as good. 

So then I rephrase. 

“Well, of course,” I’ll think. 

“Anyone who thinks the way I do–anyone with a brain that works like mine would be depressed.”

And then I start to get it. 

  

EVERYONE HAS A SECRET BLOG

Dear Reader,

So. It’s 2015 and it seems like everyone who’s anyone has a blog. Or, actually, just everyone has one.

Seriously, everyone.

And I’ve realized this more and more because the phrase “I have a blog,” is no longer followed with “what?! what do you even write about??” but instead, “where is it? I have one too!”

And really, I’m okay with more and more people finding out my blog… to some extent. I still don’t see a day where I tell my parents or a time where I share my posts on my Facebook. And yeah my heart still speeds up a bit when someone says they “found” me–but that’s mostly because I’m on YouTube now (which is still terrifying).

Here’s the thing: I love this blog. I am incredibly self conscious and can be truly introverted at times, but on here, I can still share myself with others while hiding behind a screen. I can edit whatever I say and not have to worry about tripping over the words as they tumble out of my mouth. I don’t have to be self-conscious of my ever-reddening face when the attention turns to me in a group of people.

I get to put out this version of myself on the internet–to a bunch of strangers–that can actually convey thoughts I’m having in the most public way I’d choose to display them. And I can go as personal as I choose, but still save plenty for my own private journal.

Still, though, I’m scared. I already feel like I’ve had to censor myself a lot last year because I didn’t want people like my sister or my roommate worrying about me–especially when I was so certain that there was nothing to worry about in the first place.

That was back when 4 people I knew in real life read my blog. Now there are possibly ten others (maybe more) with the url. Oh, and apparently it’s possible to find me from a simple Google search of who even knows what keywords.

But I just want to make a disclaimer, and an explanation for what I even do on this blog. Because, yes, there are truly interesting people out there who have fantastic blogs. There are people dealing with very real problems who blog about them. And there are people who are living crazy lives or have amazing stories that they share with their followers.

As for me? Well, I’m going to be a teacher so I’m always subconsciously censoring myself and refraining from using profanity or discussing certain topics. And I try to reflect on the good as much as possible, but sometimes the bad leaks through and I need to vent to a place with an audience, rather than my private journal. But my writing isn’t beautiful, my life isn’t an adventure, and, well, at this point in my life I’m deeply unfulfilled.

Yet, I have a blog.

And a YouTube channel, for that matter.

I don’t know. It’s late and I felt like making a disclaimer for being a typical Generation Y yuppie who was raised to believe I was special and have something to say (or at least a beautiful way to say it), when in fact, I’m just… not. I guess.

But WordPress at least makes me want to be. Or makes me want to try harder, I suppose. So every once in a while I’ll try writing something or try being creative. Or I’ll take more pictures than I usually do because, well, I have a corner of the internet where I can share them.

So I think I’m going to make a new introduction soon. A new explanation of why this blog is here and a “welcome” to all those out here who haven’t been with me from the beginning. And to those who know me in real life. Because, God, I feel like this is a disappointment to them more than anyone. 

But maybe that’s just because it’s 1AM and instead of sleeping, I’m overanalyzing every aspect of my life.

You know, as one does.

Sincerely,

Sammy

LATE NIGHT THOUGHTS

We all like to think that we’re destined for great things.

We all see our future as brighter than our present

and we long for the days to come

because we like to think that they’re better than the days we’re having now.

I mean

we certainly don’t think they’ll be worse.

How can they be worse?

But we look to the future with dumb optimism.

We see things better than reality

because we compare ourselves to people we can’t become.

We see ourselves as better than average.

We all do.

But that, in itself, is flawed.

We cannot all be above average.

It is impossible.

And I’m starting to realize

more and more

how unfortunately average I am.

And I don’t know how to be okay with it

because I was raised to believe I was better.