To be honest, I had no idea what to write for this blog post. So, I have decided to write a post about none other than… inspiration.

For those of you who don’t know, I like to consider myself a writer. It always amazes me what tiny little things inspire me. For example, about two years ago, I did a tedious exercise where I wrote down 15 first sentences, randomly. I tried to write a story from them, but to no avail. Then, when I looked back at them a year later, one stuck out to me. That one little sentence was a springboard for me to invent an entire world (which I am now trying to write down).

The most interesting thing about inspiration is that if I had shown that sentence to any other person, they would have come up with a completely different story.

Inspiration can be frustrating, too, at least to me. It never comes when I want it to. When I’m stuck on page 3 and need to figure out what happens after the lunchroom incident, my mind goes blank. It’s only when I’m walking down the street, thinking about what kind of cheese to get on my sandwich, that it hits me.

Got any thoughts about inspiration? Comment below!

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Naked New Yorkers!! AHH!!!!

Recently I discovered something so bizarre, so shocking, that I just had to share it with the world. Every year in New York City, in the freezing month of January, there is a day. And on this day, one thing is optional. And that thing is…


That’s right. On this very special day, New Yorkers prance around the dirty subway stations wearing nothing but a coat and their underwear. That would be public humiliation in any month, but in JANUARY?!?!?! I can’t describe the physical and emotional pain it would cause. (Read more about this crazy day here)

There is one person in New York to whom this would just be a day in the life. That person is the Naked Cowboy. For those of you who are unaware, the Naked Cowboy is a man who spends his days in Times Square, soliciting money… while wearing nothing but tighty-whities, a cowboy hat, boots, and a guitar. Can you imagine what it would be like if that guy was your dad?

“What does your dad do?”

“Oh… He’s the, uh… the Naked Cowboy…”

“Oh. OHHHH…”

Yeah. Awkward times. I wonder if he takes the subway to “work” every morning in his underwear, or if he strips down once he gets there. How did he even come up with that idea? These are life’s important questions.

Like my post on naked New Yorkers? Comment below!

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Memory is a funny thing. In my opinion, and you can disagree with me here, we are our memory. We wouldn’t be without it, just a blank canvas. I’m going to leave that aspect of memory aside, though, as it is a highly debatable topic, and deserves more than just a paragraph. I may return to it in another post.

What I want to talk about is what we remember. I’m talking about actual memories, here, not memorizing formulas or something– just for clarification. What senses do we use in our memories? Personally, my memories usually contain sound, touch, and a slight sense of smell. My sight is almost always cloudy, like my eyes are only half-open. It’s harder for me to remember specific things than it is to remember the big picture. I assume that’s how it is for most people, but I really have no idea. Some people are really good at specific things, like birthdays, but not I.

I only really have two full-awareness memories (at least ones that I can remember, anyways, teehee). The first is of the first time I ever went to Disney World, standing outside the gates of the park, waiting for it to open. When the gates opened, I had this feeling of pure joy. I remember it perfectly.

The second memory is my worst memory. I won’t go into detail here, because I don’t want the entire internet knowing this story, but basically it was the day after my grandpa died. I remember most of that entire day, from 5 o’clock AM to 11 o’clock at night. It was terrible.

There are also certain things that I think I remember, but don’t really. For example, there’s this picture of me as a baby, sitting in the grass, with this hilarious look on my face. My mom has told me all about how that was my first time in grass, and how much I hated it, so I think I remember it. Obviously, I don’t, because I wasn’t even a year old.

Any thoughts about memory? Comment below!

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That’s right, people, I’m giving America’s guilty pleasure some recognition on this here blog. Like it didn’t get enough recognition already.

Anyway, I’m not a coffee drinker, which is good, because the last thing I need is for my growth to be stunted. I do, however, LOVE creme frappuccinos. They’re just amazing– a perfect blend of creme and the flavor of your choice (my favorites are coconut and chai tea). The only bad thing about frappuccinos is that once you’ve drunk about half of it, it’s just flavored ice. Which is icky.

I also love their chai tea latte. It’s a great winter warm-up drink. Their iced version, though? Not so much.

But my favorite Starbucks drink, the one you’ve all been waiting for, is…

Iced green tea lemonade.

If you haven’t tried it, you should. It’s like a little cup of heaven.

While I’m on the topic of Starbucks, how about a little rant, eh? I have no idea why their drink sizes can’t just be small, medium, and large, like any normal American chain restaurant. But, no. Instead, we have the oh-so-classy tall, grande, and venti. Whoa, hold up! Is that a small beverage– called tall? And a medium beverage– called large?

What is wrong with America?

One time, I asked for a small chai tea latte. The barista gave me an evil glare and said “What?” with the attitude of a teenage girl (believe me, I know what that looks like). I said again, “A small chai latte, please.” She scoffed, an oh-you-little-peasant kind of scoff, and said “You mean, tall?” Uh, no, I wanted a small drink. Not a tall drink. A small one. People these days.

Similarly annoyed by Starbucks? Love their beverages? Comment below!

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A Word to the Wise

Today, readers, I present to you a tidbit of advice. Never start a conversation by saying “You know, it’s weird, but some people…” It never ends well. Ever.
I have done this precisely three times, and each time I have been presented with an extremely awkward moment.

The first time I make this horrible mistake, I was at my friend’s house. I said to her, “You know, it’s weird, but some people shave their arms.” I then looked down to see her self-consciously rubbing her freshly shaved limbs.

The second time, I was at a party of some sort, talking to a family friend. I said, “You know, it’s weird, but some people have like a thousand Facebook friends.” She nodded and said “hmm.” I later looked at her Facebook profile. She had over two thousand friends.

The third and final time I was this idiotic, I was having a conversation, and it was at a standstill. Trying to prevent an awkward moment, I said “You know, it’s weird, but some people don’t like chocolate.” Guess who didn’t like chocolate? Mhm.

Take my advice, people! These seven simple words are NEVER a good conversation starter, and will ALWAYS create an awkward moment. Be aware, and use caution!

(To those unfortunate people whom I used this phrase on: forgive me.)

Ever used this awkward phrase? Comment below!

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