Nothing else matters in my life because tonight someone told me I was a good dancer. Do you understand? I have worked for so much but tonight someone acknowledged my dancing. I was dancing to No Diggity and someone said the sentence, “you’re a good dancer” to me, the human me, and I said, “oh my god,” and they said, “you are!” and then I whispered, “tell no one.” But now I am telling the internet. It is here now, on the record, that someone thinks I am a good dancer. You can tell me I’m a bad dancer all you want now, but at least there is a single contradictory opinion.
“Our jazz band rehearsals are a 1-2 lesson in the deprecation of the greatest American art form.”
I tried to have a serious discourse about my emotions tonight but then Lena Dunham favorited a tweet I sent her, so we’ll put off unpacking all of my feelings for another night, I think.
Last night I accidentally cleaned my whole room. I dusted on accident. I vacuumed on accident. The whole thing was an accident.
I went to a party this weekend, which is a funny thing to say. I have been to about three parties this whole year. Now that I’m not in college anymore, going to parties always feels weird and alien. Oh, is this where I put my coat? Where are the snacks? I went to this party and it was cold out and I wanted to wear a scarf but I hadn’t worn a scarf in ages. I couldn’t find this red cowl I own so I put on a different one. Last night, one of my friends said, “oh, I liked the scarf you wore to the party this weekend.”
"Oh, thanks! But I wanted to wear a different one!" I explained.
I got home around 10 last night and I thought, I wonder if that scarf is here or at my parents’ house. So I started to look for it and then I also started cleaning and then ~one thing led to another~ and my whole room is so much more organized. It’s still kind of cluttered, because that’s my vibe in general. But I was doing laundry and I found my scarf and I even washed down some surfaces that are always sticky with, like, San Pellegrino or whatever it is I consume on most days. I have a good feeling about this fall. It kind of caught me off-guard and made me feel weird, but I don’t know. The second September started, I felt good again. I felt significantly better about almost everything.
Of course I’ve typed this whole post in semi-procrastination of going outside and getting dressed, two things I should do, and will do, but also bed and also sitting by my window. Fall will always remind me—and everyone else who is a living breathing human—of school. My sophomore year, I used to sit up on my lofted bed next to the window and write on Tumblr for hours. I think I might take myself for a walk today instead.
I’m not qualified to get advice at any point in my life ever. I’m 23. I’m not that good at stuff. I don’t make a lot of money. I’m not wise. But still. But still, if I had to grant, you, people of the universe, people of the Internet, my little nugget of advice, it is this:
Do not fold your money. Do not crumple your money. Do what you can to keep your money straight and/or folded in half. Money is valuable, weirdly enough, and when you fold it into little cranes and keep it at the bottom of your wallet, you’re not doing anyone a favor. Sort your money. Keep track of it. Don’t ball it up and put it in your waistband. Just—treat it like a real thing.
My dad just got his first smartphone and I think he must have some other apps but the app I know he has is Facebook because he is always uploading stuff onto Facebook and it says “via mobile” and I’m like, oh wow, this is a thing you know how to do now. I was on my break at work last night and saw a picture uploaded to Facebook “via mobile” of some cocktails that he and my mom were drinking at a restaurant they like in the city. The city! That’s where I live. And work.
I texted my mom to tell her to swing by work and say hi if they were going to be around, and she texted back, “oops we’re here.” I came out from the back office with half of an Italian sub in my hands and my parents were all dressed up and in line and talking to my coworkers and showing everyone pictures of our dogs. My parents! There are days you have where you feel stupid and terrible and you don’t even really realize you feel terrible, you just do. I didn’t know that what I needed yesterday was to see my parents for ten minutes, but I totally did need to see my parents for ten minutes. We didn’t even talk about anything. I stood outside and they introduced me to a nice dog they met. Then we hugged and they took of picture of me and my dad uploaded it to Facebook “via mobile” and then they hugged my boss and left.
"Were those some regulars of yours?" one of my newer coworkers asked.
"Yeah, they are my regular parents," I told him.