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Turbulent T

I will have no social life until I can stop drowning in brokeness…spent the say sending out applications for “second PT” jobs. :p #therealworldsucks


Shit is getting real..I’m actually filling out the paperwork for the Navy. #ekkkk

The current Zara campaign IS my life inspiration…effortless, chic, sexy…my new zen mantra.


Karlie Kloss doing her US Vogue cover dance! #voguecoverdance 

I may be 27 but I am still totally allowed to have dream boyfriends…my current crush is 23 year old Roosevelt lead singer, Marius Lauber (insert teen angsty sigh here).

There’s something about August…as in, it’s been the month of terribleness for the past three years. It’s like the perfect storm of everything that is wrong in my life and often coincides with me being broke as all hell and turning a year older, sigh.

August 2011- I was in Bangkok on the verge of turning 25 and feeling totally unsure of graduate school. It was also the month that Thailand held its Parliamentary elections (which had often been followed by coups) so I remember the feelings of tense fear that gripped the city for those first couple of weeks. That August, I was also super broke and running out of cash and my father finally put his foot down telling me that I had to come home. I was leaving Asia and was heartbroken to do so, but I was even more disappointed that all summer tutoring gigs I had taught had only put me further into debt. There is nothing worse than being broke in a foreign country.

August 2012- I was a total fucking mess. I had opted to go to grad school in the Spring and I guess that had been going “okay enough” but then I found myself coming undone over the course of the summer. I had started dating a toxic guy…and when he coldly dropped me (towards the end of July) I spent the whole of the month in a deep depression (there were lots of dramatic crying spells involved). I was also miserably juggling summer school, a part time retail job, and an unpaid internship…and by August I was just burnt the hell out. And despite my PT job and my student loans, I was still running out of money. My lease was over at the end of August and I had both the terrible time of looking for a place that would have me yet alone finding the dough to pay for my first month’s rent/moving. I ultimately had to beg my mom to give me a short-term loan…which she was royally pissed about. Did I mention that I did actually have a great 26th b-day with a couple of new friends…one of whom would go on to date the same “toxic guy.” Oh, August.

August 2013:

It’s only just begun and it’s already a FUCKING DISASTER! This August I once again find myself BROKE. I took a paid fellowship working for an amazing think tank, the only problem is that I’m paid as a contractor. What this means if that I have to bill every two weeks but my job has up to a month from the day I file an invoice to pay me. So there I was on a tight budget completely unaware of the fact that I was not getting paid any time soon. Of course June was easypeasy and July got a little bumpy but now that we’re in August…having only been paid once has taken a serious toll. If I had known it would take this long, I would have taken an extra job on the side, anything that paid me cash upfront. Now I’m stuck…I’m supposed to move out of my place in two weeks, and I have yet to receive even my second paycheck (I’m also owed a third). Sigh, I was supposed to have a fantastic birthday with my good friends in NYC to sort of wipe away the sad tinge of entering my late-twenties…but it looks like my birthday is sort of D.O.A. Despite continued assurances that I would be paid..I haven’t received anything. I have less than $60 left in my bank account and I owe half my family money for various loans they’ve given me to pay my rent/stay afloat. Out of all the Augusts, this one may be the most desperate, at least retail paid weekly….who would have ever thought I’d long for those days? :P 

August is just cursed. 

Tagged as: August,

I’ve decided that this summer is going to be sexy…

So I got what I wanted; an answer but it wasn’t particularly satisfying. In true “me” fashion, I wrote him a letter. I laid it out there. I told him how he’d taken me by surprise and that I was bummed that he never managed to make it to my farewell party. I also admitted that i knew he was (obviously) involved in another situation…I mean nothing else explains the hot and cold of it all. Either way, I confessed that I just knew we’d see each other again and that I’d hope we’d continue to stay in touch.

I know, I KNOW…I totally put myself out there, raw, for someone that was the epitome of emotionally unavailable. So the reply I got back shouldn’t have come as a surprise…because I got the same “middle of the road” non-commital words he’s been spoon feeding me since we returned from the Netherlands. A lot of talking around things. No mention of why he ghosted or of his feelings, yet alone any acknowledgement of mine…he just mentioned his mutual belief that we’d see each other soon and that he saw great things in my future. He also politely added that he was looking forward to reading the book I had left him…it was all very platonic in tone.

I mean to be fair, he owes me nothing. He was never my boyfriend; in fact, we never left the gate. We were the living embodiment of a dream deferred…one magical night that never manifested into anything real. I felt one of the most intense chemistries that I’ve ever experienced and at the end of the day, it was all for nought. He let me go. He “wants to be friends” (that phrase is so fucking soul crushing btw). But how can you be friends with someone who has a ten foot wall around their life and heart? He’ll open up just to pull a 180 and disappear the next day. I’m gone—-I’m an ocean away and I don’t have a choice but to let him go. I’m tired of chasing after the ghost of a moment…I’ve got my answer, there’s nothing to salvage. I’m terribly disappointed but what else can I do but move on?

Aunt flo, always a welcomed guest in my house. 

I cannot even fathom why I EVER had a thing for Adrien Brody years ago. I’m taking this as a sign that I’m out growing my bad taste in men…douche bags no longer appeal to me…even if they’re tall, raised in Queens, with big brown eyes, and have an Oscar. 

Tagged as: Adrien Brody,

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