At first, the Polar Vortex sounds kind of fun. I imagine us all to be sipping spiked hot chocolates, boarding a train with a mustache-d conductor heading to somewhere like the North Pole. But then I realize that I’m just recreating a Disney movie in my mind and life is not but a dream.
Instead, the Polar Vortex is a brutal, brutal thing that encourages college girls to hang themselves from barren trees with their infinity scarves.
At the beginning of winter, everyone complained about the nippy chill more than usual. Everyone that wasn’t complaining about the chill insisted upon complaining about the people who were complaining about the chill. These skeptics were under the impression that everyone was just overreacting; that this winter was just as cold as any other. The complainers, skin still thin from what was left of that summer bikini body, were simply in denial of winter’s annual coming.
I wonder if the skeptics of those complaining about the cold feel like assholes now that WE’RE IN A POLAR VORTEX.
Here’s a neat list of five things you can do to stay warm:
1. Give in to that booty call (body heat).
2. Burn the keepsakes of your ex to make a bonfire. The ones you haven’t already burned.
3. Don’t get out of bed, ever. This is a great dieting technique because I would otherwise encourage working out, but haha no.
4. Watch so much Netflix while your laptop is on your lap that you get radiation poisoning!
5. Wear a Peekaru, buy a puppy/become a teen mom, and put it (or your unwilling boyfriend) inside.
In this snazzy Thought Catalog piece that finds itself less cynical than the usual, six of the most accurate quotes from Lena Dunham’s too-real creation, Girls, are highlighted to define “dating in your 20s.” However, as someone who is a strong believer that anyone with emotions can relate to Girls regardless of age, sex, sex life, etc., this piece is a necessary must-read for everyone.
Every episode of Girls is like a quote book waiting to be sewn together. Hence, there are a few quotes here that I thought shouldn’t have necessarily made the creme of the crop cut. But a couple of them hit the nail right on the head, like…
“You act like I’m uptight and then I follow suit. I become uptight. It is the most frustrating dynamic on the planet. It drives me crazy. I can’t stand it.” –Marnie (If this one doesn’t describe my existence as a human and/or as a girlfriend, I don’t know what does.)
“I don’t even want a boyfriend. I just want someone who wants to hang out all the time, and think I’m the best person in the world, and wants to have sex with only me.” –Hannah (No, not me “Hannah,” but obviously the leading lady of Girls shares my palindromical Jewish nomenclature. This one sums it all up–after a while, you realize that it’s totally not about the title as much as it’s about the feeling. Ya dig?)
“It wasn’t love the way I imagined it but it just felt weird if I didn’t know what she was up to or whatever.” –Adam (In other words: modern love. We’ll take it.)
This one gets FYD honorable mention but didn’t make the cut for the Thought Catalog piece (instead they put in one of the dumb lines with a Twilight reference):
“Sometimes being stuck in my own head is so exhausting it makes me want to cry.” –Marnie. (But then again, everything makes me want to cry.)
Read the whole piece here.
I’ve gotten so used to the shame that comes with Facebook stalking, I subconsciously avoid directly addressing it in posts.
Well, people, it’s time.
Facebook stalking is something everyone does. Naturally, then, there’s no reason for it not to be addressed. It is as unavoidable as me getting my period for the first time in the middle of my hiking trip during sleepaway camp–in other words, it is unavoidable as f***. If we’re all Facebook stalking, then there must be a reason why. Though the practice is mindless in itself and only requires the clicking of a mouse every couple of seconds (next photo, next photo, next photo), its significance as a contributor to the millennial persona is wholeheartedly huge.
Apparently, Facebook is a “sharing” site, though we know that isn’t true. Is sharing really sharing if it’s a one-way kinda-sorta thing? We don’t really communicate via wall post (um, excuse me, I mean timeline post) as often as Zuckerberg wants us to. In fact, if you do post on someone’s timeline, you are hard core judged by everyone else who sees it. We all have iMessage–the greatest invention since whole wheat sliced bread–and if you really wanted to speak to someone quickly and efficiently, you would text her. Nothing pisses people off more than siblings or best friends who write to each other publicly on Facebook. Clearly you already have a texting convo going, so whatever you’re writing you clearly are just writing for the sake of publicity.
We have driven Facebook off it’s given beat and path. We mock those that use it for it’s original intention. So if you aren’t stalking someone, are you doing it wrong?
In theory, Facebook stalking makes sense. We’re drawn to seeing photos of other people–especially, of course, people we know. Pictures have always intrigued us. I obviously would not have liked Madeline nearly as much if she wasn’t wearing such a cute jumper all of the time. But when we look at photos of other people on Facebook, it’s in almost no context at all. There aren’t really words to this picture book. It’s just… well… pictures.
Everyone has a few people that they focus their energy into stalking, habitually typing a name into the search box. Then there are the people you forget about until they pop up on your news feed because they were tagged in your best camp friend’s best home friend’s photo. Come Sunday mornings, we sit on the edges of our seats, anxiously awaiting the mass mupload like it’s the fricking messiah.
However, we find ourselves in knee-deep contradiction. When those whom we do not desire the stalking rights to post solo shots of themselves or even a 50-photo collection of the previous weekend’s events, we give them shit. We get annoyed. We want some to use Facebook as a canvas, and we want others to sit quietly behind a screen (as some of us stalkers might) and join in the could-be thoughts of pretty, skinny girls sipping on cranberry colored cocktails.
So when you stalk someone, are you truly engaged in learning more about her? Are we just jealous of the identities these people have created for themselves on intangible social media? Are we so unsettled in our own lives that we yearn to live vicariously through other people (no matter how many hours we spend looking through the same album of muploads repeatedly)?
Facebook makes it so damn easy for people to judge you. But don’t you want to be stalked, and not a stalk-er? Don’t you want to be judged?
They say that any publicity is good publicity. In a world of being “Facebook famous,” I guess so.