In the Spam of Time

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Mental Backflips

Long time, no post. 

I was recently talking to a friend about how I have an end of the year ritual of writing a “journal entry”. Realistically, there is no way I could actually journal on a daily basis -- I’m simply not the type. However, I still appreciate these mental snapshots I have saved here. 

I’d like to split this post into two chunks: where I was and how I’ve been. Alongside this discussion of my once-a-year journal, I decided to do a quick skim of what I had written in the hopes of attaining some kind of insight into the Samantha of yore. However, what I stumbled upon made me realize why I had skipped a year -- I only wrote when I was emotionally distressed. Whether that was a quasi-listicle on how to feel better about yourself or on the status of my romantic life, there were always overtones of histrionics or sadness. 

2018 felt like glass of water filled to the brim with -- it felt like nothing happened, but if you touch that glass ever so gently, the contrary is revealed. New Years, 2018 felt like yesterday. I remember being sad because I didn’t receive the attention I thought I deserved. I think I wrote it best earlier this year (I have a habit of writing when I’m drunk and sad): 

“A picture perfect shot An exclusive bachelor party Only if you know the room I’m only here because it is my last chance to ‘have fun’ A picture perfect moment but outside of the moment 3rd person objective An ideal never achieved Hot dancing in a corner, notice me Sitting in a corner booth alone, notice me Free tables, no one c ares Why won’t they notice -- I’m dressed like they will”

Now, I never claimed to be a poet, but this drunken snapshot was a reveal of who I was and still sometimes am. 2018 showed a lot of character growth, revealed a confidence that was long waiting to rear its ugly glorious head. I’m not sure what happened, but I now know who I am and what I want. I think it took hitting my lowest (the first half of 2018) to realize that things that I need to work through will never go away. 2018 showed me the gravity of my mental health, that I do have high functioning anxiety and depression and that I can survive it. I think 2018 made me realize that at the end of the day, I am my best advocate and advocacy looks like challenging myself to do things that I know make me feel better even when I really don’t feel like fucking getting out of bed. 

So, at this point in the post, I have decided to add a third chunk, things that I know make me feel better, like me. Recently, I have begun to feel the depressive chemicals coming back, like there is an echo of a light that may or may not have been there before. I can’t remember when there was or wasn’t a light, but I’m assuming it’ll be back one day or another. I just need to keep carrying on, doing things that I know will act as kindle. 

The Chunks

1. Who I was

 a toxic romanticizer 

pliable 

not in control 

2. Who I am

self aware

worthy

wary 

3. Things that help

being with people I care about

being present

going outside and breathing 

reading a good book (outside)

leaving my apartment

leaving my bed

eating yummy foods

4. Things I want to do (the secret chunk)

more

be better

5. Things I did in 2018 (another secret chunk)

got into graduate school

finished half of my masters/teaching credential

fell in love with a vocation 

took a chance and grew to love 

held steadfast on my values and beliefs 

made more friends, the genuine connections I wanted 2-3 years ago

became confident in my own abilities and sure of who I am

Long post boiled down: I am happy.

[inthespamoftime-blog]

I refuse to live my life on the coattail of another.

According to my parents, unabashed independence is mutually exclusive to being a lady. Upon their slow realization that my “new” relationship of 5 months isn’t going anywhere, they have begun to feel the understandable parental need to remind me about my position in relationships. Don’t let yourself get trampled on, but don’t be too strong. I understand that love and life is a balance, but this constant nagging ideology, both from my parents and greater society, that due to my XX chromosomes, I need titrate my personality into the perfect human, leader, significant other, daughter, lady, [fill in the blank] is extremely nerve racking. 

My mom told me that it’s a deal breaker that my boyfriend doesn’t eat raw fish.

I think she meant white.

[inthespamoftime-blog]

1/1/2016

HAHA YOU THOUGHT IT WAS A TYPO! TWAS NOT! SHAZAM!

Okay, sorry. I was reading yet another New Year article about how to “PLAN YOUR BEST YEAR YET” [insert pep]. Well, I didn’t get very far along in said article because I stopped after point one: reflect. And when I really took a second to think about it, I really can’t recount the last year. So I looked. Or well, I scrolled. And I read a couple posts here and there and I realized (haha recurring theme) that last year, I was constantly trying to force change. I was a lost person trying to force my way into something bigger and better, something that would make me a self-defined “better person”. So this year, I am going to keep it simple. No more forced tinder adventures of ensured disappointment. No more trying to wake up before dawn to be a more productive person. No more of any of that. This year, I am going to keep it simple and let things simply run its course. I will still continue to pursue my dreams and passions, but in a way that works for me.  

[inthespamoftime-blog]

Intrinsic Goals

This problem isn’t new or unique in anyway: I can’t keep goals. I’ll try and run every other day or stop eating junk food or be a better person blah blah blah, but alas, I rarely make it past week one or even day one. The idea of fresh starts is super interesting to me because January 1st doesn’t make me a different person, yet I covet that day like I can cheat until that day like no other. I’ve been spending money and eating all the things like no other because I keep telling myself that I’ll save/be healthier come January. But, we all know that those things might not...happen? And I spent the last hour thinking about this and what 2017 goals I should make...and how the majority of my goals are based around how i look or how other people perceive me in general. After experiencing the roller coaster ride that was 2016, I think it is time for a change. I always tell people that my passions are driven by my overarching goal of inspiring at least one person I encounter. In order to do that, however, I have to make sure that I accept myself above everything. Acceptance isn’t the same contentment, however. I’ll still continue to grow...just for myself. 

Anyhow, here are my goals for 2017:

1. Get stronger physically [so I can fight back against any attackers and not feel sluggish]

2. Experience more [every experience is an opportunity to learn! I can do nothing any day, but days to do something extraordinary are rare]

3. Make choices that will pave my way to success [YEAH, YOU GET INTO JET! YEAH, YOU ROCK THAT GRE!! DO ALL THE THINGS!! BECOME UNFORGETTABLE!!]

4. Interact genuinely [to experience anyone and everyone regardless of preconceived notions]

5. Feel free to cut out toxic things [if something or someone isn’t beneficial overall and I start to feel dread in regards to it, I am going to cut it out in an upfront manner. No more pussyfooting]

Anyhow, these are the five goals that will hopefully make 2017 and beyond the start of a new era.

[inthespamoftime-blog]

Hi, my name is...

So you know when people tell you not to name things so you can avoid attachment? No? Maybe? Okay, well anyways, I have noticed that whenever I exchange numbers with someone and they text me, I rarely input their name into my contacts. Today, I watched Brene Brown’s TedTalk about vulnerability and I couldn’t help but think that this refusal to put a name to a number was a subconscious method I use to protect myself. If I don’t give them a name, they can’t disappoint/hurt me. But as Brown says in her TedTalk,  people who believe themselves to be worthy of happiness have the courage to open themselves in ways that subject them to potential hurt. Happiness isn’t some innate removal of sadness; it acts in direct collaboration with it. After that video, I thought to myself that I’m going to start actively forcing myself to be more vulnerable, whether that be being honest about my feelings, not wearing makeup, or simply adding a name to the number. 

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12:48am

Sometimes I worry about myself. Like maybe saying “everything is going to be okay” isn’t going to cut it. 

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Mimosas

Someone dink mimosas and watch Netflix with me in silence.

[inthespamoftime-blog]

Dear High School Senior Samantha,

You do not need to be worried about being alone. Sure, you might be 17 and kiss-less, crush-less, romantic relationship-less, but hey, that is all trivial. Trust me, some day you will find the person that is for you. It might be in a year, maybe five. You might think you have it when you really don’t. Things will happen, time will pass. There definitely will be instances in which you think you aren’t worthy of being loved, if not impossible of being loved. But fret not, young Samantha. Your day will come. You will find the person that makes you feel special and you make him feel the same. It’ll take time and patience, but one day, you will find him. And it’ll be tough at some points, but you will feel things that you have never felt before. Just be patient, young Samantha. Love will find you. Don’t try too hard to find it. 

Love,

Samantha

[inthespamoftime-blog]

It’s not me, it’s you

For a while, I thought I was the problem when it came to social situations, not the people I disliked. There must be a reason that everyone seems to enjoy their existence and I don’t right? But today, I realized that this backwards way of thinking was definitely off point. This perception of peoples personalities and weighing them to be either good or bad is something that can’t really be done. Today, I happened to attend an event with a group of “friends” with one “friend” in particular being the questionable person in question. They saved me a seat and everything as “friends” do. This event was a rather intellectually stimulating one in the sense it was about the female experience abroad and what not. They also had free food, which is kind of a major factor in this story. Basically, this questionable person, I’ll call her Helen, proceeded to treat this event like a joke, disrespecting the two students that organized it by leaving right after grabbing a plate full of international food. Now, I believe that each person is free to do whatever they wish; you do you, hun. But essentially, I realized that the reason I didn’t like Helen was because we didn’t share the same value: transparency. When I use the word transparent, I don’t mean of little substance or easy to see through, but almost genuine in a sense. For lack of a better word, Helen is fake. Helen likes to cater to her audience to the degree in which the word deception come to mind. And that is something I cannot tolerate in the people around me. My Socialization professor told me that in order to increase my potential for happiness, I need to surround myself with people that will lift me up...sounds hard doesn’t it? Keeping in mind that I am already in my third year of college and social circles have been more or less set, it is hard to branch out and find “my people”. However, what I can do is identify the traits that like or dislike and seek out or cut out those who do not fit. Perhaps this isn’t the best way to go about it, but I think it is the more reliable route as of right now. Helen, you keep doing you and I really do wish that you get everything you deserve, but best believe that we will never be friends without the quotation marks. 

[inthespamoftime-blog]

Promethean Heat

So in my Shakespeare section, we spent a good amount of time discussing Othello’s pre- [spoiler alert!] Desdemona murder. He uses the term “Promethean heat” to describe Desdemona in a way that was debated among my peers. They saw the fire Prometheus stole from the Gods as a symbol for technology. I saw it more as a symbol of life. Desdemona was Othello’s life and he was forced by moral obligation to extinguish the light of his life. Anyways, getting to the point, after class I got a message from a friend of a not so friend to plan a surprise Birthday party. Now, I don’t want to sound like a bitch roll and a shit butter pat, but the idea of working to throw a surprise party for someone I’m less than a fan of because the fact of the matter is is that I don’t think I have anyone in my life that would be down to do such a thing for me as of now. So color me bitter, but I ignored the message. But yung Shakes got me thinking. 

We don’t have time to feel these yucky dark thoughts that dampen our own fires. If anything, we should be fueling not only our fires, but the fires of those around us. I know this all doesn’t sound very...coherent, but stick with me. The thing with Prometheus is that he brought something that gave life to the people but burned him for the rest of eternity. Fire is something beautiful but can burn you like nobodies business. But it is necessary. I have found myself less and less trusting and more and more cynical and this trend has paralleled the downward trend of my happiness levels. So another goal has entered my realm: work to foster the happiness of others. I replied to the friend by the say. It’s gonna be one hell of a surprise party.

[g-ayyee]

Date someone who will

wake up at 4am just to listen to you talk about a bad dream you just had

tease you for little things just to apologize six million times when you act upset

be nervous to kiss you for the first time because they don’t want to fuck up 

touch your butt 

offer to buy you a book that you absolutely love, and insist when you tell them no

watch your favorite movies with you even if they don’t like them

let you give them too much information and just listen to you talk for hours 

stay up until you fall asleep just because they want to talk to you

share your love for dogs

talk about animals with you for hours 

make you laugh even if it’s 2:30am and you’re laying in bed crying because you sat there and over thought

reassure you that they care and will always be there for you

tell you that they think you’re cute when you get angry at a video game 

laugh with you 

claim to not know what you’re talking about just so they can watch as you struggle to explain it just to tell you they already know and just think you’re adorable 

Most importantly, date someone who makes you happy. 

[ironicbaking]

@spagahetti @crimerates this is you two honestly

[l-bbgrl-deactivated20250729]

@princesslexis-daddy dis u

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I can’t wait to find you and live symbiotically with you.

[inthespamoftime-blog]

Living in Prep Lists and Fire Times

On top of being a student, I am a chef. I have been working for the catering company on campus for 3 years now and I still enjoy it. However, I noticed that over the years what used to be a break from everyday life turned into somewhat of a chore. I can’t help but wonder if it is because the novelty has dissipated or because the world around me has become darker in general. These past few weeks have been somewhat dark for me. When I say dark, I am not trying to say there were any external factors that made my life hard...the darkness was all mental. The impending workload Winter Quarter has to offer me gives me never ending anxiety. My hand in leading an organization saddens me deeply. The lack of potential relationships, both romantic and platonic, deeply worries me. These past weeks have been void of happiness. Okay, maybe that is a bit melodramatic. Regardless, I can feel myself slowly spiraling into a rut and that is terrifying. Ironically, I am take a butt ton of classes this quarter that focus on socializing and what not...and from the week of sitting in lecture, I have learned that happiness is a habit. I know I haven’t uploaded a concrete list of goals and what not, but I have decided that I am going to live my life like a prep list (essentially a to-do list) with an included fire time (schedule). On top of this intensive organization, I have made it a goal to smile for at least 10 minutes a day. Oh and blog/write/journal every day. So look forward to this kind of thing. Hopefully, I can keep it up. Don’t worry, I’ve already added it to my prep list.

[sarahseeandersen]

[tastefullyoffensive]

by Sarah Andersen

[morecompassion]

I hope that in 2016 I will at least stop ruining my own life

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NYX Butter Lipstick Moonlit Night

How to feel better after feeling like a shit bag.

Step 1: Put on the most bad ass shade of lipstick you own. Personally, I like a vampier color because it is a shade I don’t usually wear on the regular. Don’t put on anything else, just the lipstick.

Step 2: Stare at yourself. Feel like the badass you are. Work. That. Shade.

Step 3: Wipe in off and get ready to shower. Do the usual things you do: turn on the water to get it warm, comb your hair out, take your clothes off. 

Step 4: Put on some dancing music: Christina Aguilera, Paramore, Beyonce, you do you. 

Step 5: Get in the shower and dance like you are the star of a chick flick. Clichely run your fingers through your hair and shake it like you just don’t care.

Step 6: Get out of the shower (California is in a drought! One or two ballads is enough!), towel off, moisturize, and robe up. 

Step 7: Feel amazing or just less shittier! 

These things worked for me so maybe they will work for you? YOU ARE BRILLIANT AND ARE DEFINITELY NOT A SHIT BAG NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU THINK YOU ARE ONE!!!

[inthespamoftime-blog]

Better than a Bag of Shit (Pt. 2)

Back from stuffing my face! Anyways, where was I... Ah yes, dwindling conversation, red flags, bag of shit... 

The conversation started being 2 or 3 texts throughout the day and then a burst sometime during the night. He cancelled our little movie date and I guess that is where it all ended. I was with a friend at the time, buying random things for my brothers Christmas gift, and the topics of bags of shit came up (I honestly just bought by brother a bag of random items...a bag of shit). It started off as a joke at first, but I couldn’t help but kind of mean that I am a bag of shit and the reason why this thing didn’t work out was because of me. But upon further reflection, it realized that its important to value yourself. Sure, in the last post I wrote about not being a cocky bitch, but the world isn’t black and grey. Sure, humility is great and all, but when someone just isn’t that into you, it isn’t your fault. They just aren’t that into you. And he, I guess, just wasn’t that into me. And that is okay. It took me a while to get this, to be honest. I spent the greater part of today pretty sad, feeling as if I was nothing more than a bag of shit. But I am. Today, he officially ended our correspondence. He said he would be leaving me alone for now with no real prior prompting on my part, ending with “hope you have a nice night!”. I replied “you too :]”. He finished off with “GOODBYE, STRANGER”. I deleted his text thread from my phone. Something so simple as deleting a text thread can give you the closure you need and reaffirm that you are better than a bag of shit.

[inthespamoftime-blog]

Better than a Bag of Shit (Pt. 1)

Note: My computer decided to update when I was half way done with this post, so the flow might be kind of ugly. 

Well now seems like as good a time as any to update you on my tinder experience. So, Tahoe fell through. It was a long shot in hindsight, but regardless both parties were bummed. He said he was still down to meet up and suggested me going to his house to watch a couple movie we had bantered about early on in our conversations. PAUSE! I understand that going to a strangers house for a first date is the exact opposite of the public, antimurder setting that first dates should have, but I had agreed to go on a Tahoe day trip with this boy, so I had thrown caution to the wind at this point. Anyhow, over the week our texts started to saddly dwindle. I had work, he allegedly had a crazy sleep schedule (sleeping till 4PM is a bit crazy). Now, I don’t want to sound like a crazy person where I need a boy to text me 24/7 to be sated. I like to pride myself on being rather low maintenance. But when you have me waiting 5 hours for a reply, there are bound to be some red flags popping up here and there. 

I now must leave my house to go to a family dinner. I swear the point of the title will come in part 2...