Sometimes, I really really miss the T9 predictive texting.
Much like those kids these days (and by kids I mean me) like to run around town yelling things like YOLO, SUPES, OBVS, and TOTES, my high school days were full of the T9 lingo.
My friends and I just LOVED that when you tried to type “god” the word “one” would come up first. We would always say things like, “I swear to One, Ameena!” And “fuck” wasn’t even in our vocabulary because we were too busy talking about ducks. Things were never “cool” they were only ever “book”. Why would we go “home” when we could just go “good” instead? We used to make entire games out of deciphering each other’s messages.
Oh and then there were the completely made up and nonsensical words T9 would use when it didn’t know what the duck you were talking about. My spelling was never as good as when I had to rely on T9.
In fact, one of my very favorite nicknames – Bodena – came as the result of T9 not recognizing that cray name of mine. I tried to make it my twitter handle once upon a time but some asshat has laid claim to it and has only tweeted like three times in the past five years. UGH.
Yeah, I really miss the T9 days.
To this day I still like to use “one” instead of “god” and I get excited when my iPhone is all like “Whoa, you never ever say ‘fuck’, clearly you must mean ’duck’”, and even though it isn’t quite the same it still makes me happy because just for a moment I can feel T9 smiling down on me.
When I was in high school I totally used to be one of those annoying girls who would run around screaming about being how nerdy she was because I was really in to Harry Potter and dinosaurs and was Debate President and owned a Star Wars t-shirt (even though I can only name, like, four characters from the movies and maybe one planet) (also, I’m literally wearing said shirt as I type this) (I think it has an x-wing on it?) (Nerds Unite!). In college I attempted to keep my nerd cred by studying biology and devoting most of my free time to watching episodes of Lost and talking about Batman.See? Totally a nerd.
Then I got to Disney World and met real nerds and learned that I am most definitely not a real nerd. And probably one of those fake nerds the real nerds spend a lot of time complaining about and blame for ruining the San Diego Comic Con (cause, you know, I’m always talking about how badly I want to go). My bad, guys.
ANYWAY, I had these two awesome coworkers who were the most legit nerds I have ever met. And I mean that in the realest, most sincere way possible. I was completely in awe of them and super happy they let me hang out with them even though I was always interrupting their conversations with clarification questions. Basically they helped me make sense of all those things they’re always talking about on The Nerdist podcast.
They taught me all about cosplay (I wish I could show you their amazing costumes!) and Doctor Who and Loki and steampunk and comic books and well it was all wildly fascinating.
You guys, nerd culture is so cool!
And also this is my really long preamble in to saying that earlier today I stumbled upon the Emerald City Comicon and it was the best surprise of my life. I just kind of stood outside the convention center staring at everyone as they went in and out of the building. There were so many people! I’d be all like oh! look at that green person! and those grey monsters! And that guy all in blue! And I’d get extra excited when I recognized a Tardis or Doctor or a Mario Brother (because those really were the only things I recognized). So yeah, I am definitely the worst nerd but also the happiest worst nerd. So at least I have that.
ps. sorry for the abusive use of exclamation points and parenthesis.
I did a whole lot of walking and even less sleeping today.
My brain is mush. Blerg.
A couple of months ago I realized I was being bogged down by everything I own. As I looked at my possessions with the utmost distaste, I could hear Tyler Durden reminding me, “the things you own end up owning you.” And that didn’t sit right with me. I don’t want to be a slave to my IKEA coffee table. I refuse.
As my personal priorities have shifted and I have tried to focus on consuming less, I have also decided it is time to start decluttering my own life and getting rid of most of my posessions. I promised myself that as I prepared to pack up and vacate The Cottage at the end of July, I would try to get rid of as many things as I possibly could. For the most part this process has been surprisingly easy, considering I have often been accused of being ridiculously sentimental. However, even I couldn’t have foreseen how difficult it would be to part with some of my belongings.
I like to refer to these dearest of items as my Casualties of the Move and I would like to ask that you join me as I honor them here.
1. My Junior Prom Dress. (also known as the love of my life)
2006
The second I saw that pale-yellow beauty sitting in the back of my closet I knew it was time. As I delicately removed the plastic covering so that I could try it on one last time, I could feel my heart grow heavy with sadness. Saying goodbye to an old friend is never easy. I couldn’t even adequately express to you why I love that dress so much. If you have to ask, you’ll never know. In fact, I love it so much that three years ago I somehow convinced a group of 20-25 year olds to dust off their old prom dresses and suits just so I could have an excuse to wear my dress one more time. Now that you are safely back in your plastic blanket dear dress, I offer a toast – thanks for the memories old yellow. You will be missed.
2009
2. Fabio.
Fabio, oh dear Fabio. You always find yourself in the crossfire don’t you? Thank you for always being such a cherished guest at our many affairs. As a parting bit of advice I offer that maybe for your new home you could at least bring a shirt? I mean, I’M NOT COMPLAINING, but sometimes you’re a little intimidating at first when you’re standing there all smoldering and shirtless with your weird chains in your hands, ya know?
3. Baby’s First Lightsaber && Darth Tater and the Spud Troopers.
First of all, someone please name their band “Darth Tater and the Spud Troopers” immediately. I promise I won’t even ask for any royalties. Just like, thank me in your album book thing or whatever.
My lightsaber has been with me since the glory days of my sophomore year of high school. After the midnight showing of Star Wars Episode II, it took residence in my car and there it lived for four years. I often suspect that this is most likely the reason I safely made it to my car so many times. Those mo’ fo’s saw my light saber and knew I must be dangerous. But then one tragic day the batteries died and it has been collecting dust ever since. That’s no life for a light saber, guys. No life at all.
Then there is my band of misfit spuds. I don’t even know what to say about those guys. I guess I just want them to know it isn’t them. It’s me. It’s definitely me.
4. Christmas.
I’m not gonna lie. Parting with my Christmas decorations wasn’t easy, but I know in my heart it was for the best. In the two years that I have lived in this house, the tradition of The Cottage Christmas has always been a favorite of mine. During the past two Decembers you could pretty much count on me spending 80% of every paycheck on any and all Christmas decorations I could get my hands on. But now I fear that Christmas anywhere else just won’t be the same. Also, who needs Christmas decorations when my only plans for Christmas this year involve Mickey’s Very Merry Christmas Party and openly weeping while watching this movie five times AT LEAST:
“You will always have some excuse not to live your life.” – Chuck Palahniuk.
Back in my high school glory days I played the violin in the school orchestra. One time, in an effort to describe how terribly rehearsal had gone that day, my symphony teacher told us to all imagine “Ameena floating on a pond.” Okay, what he actually said was “amoeba floating on a pond,” but unfortunately us high school kids were never really the best listeners. So instead we all heard the former to which my classmates responded with laughter and a years worth of jokes and to which I nervously chuckled in order to hide my serious mortification. I had no idea the thought of me floating on a body of water evoked such depressing imagery. How sad!
And even though he quickly corrected the misunderstanding, here I am nearly seven years later wondering if maybe we had actually heard Mr. F correctly the first time. Because, you see, the truth is – I am amoeba floating on a pond. Although this species of amoeba has nothing to do with adolescent screeching violins and more to do with the fact that I have spent far too much of my life living in a manner not entirely unlike a simple, single-celled organism.
For too long I have been stationary. Going with the flow. Waiting for opportunity and adventure to come my way. Keeping everything simple. Hoping that the tides of my pond always stayed calm. Living in my own little single-celled world.
But lately I have felt big changes in the water. I have found that I am living my life more deliberately. Not only am I actually making plans to do those things I have dreamed of for ages but I have also started calling myself out on all of the excuses. It’s almost as if I am an active witness in my own maturation. I am becoming an adult. I have been slowly turning my back on various pursuits and anxiously looking forward to others. I am living my life with more purpose. Making plans. Following through. Trying new things. Asking myself the big questions. Facing my emotions. Doing more of what makes me happy. Embracing change. Pursuing opportunities. And always looking out for new adventure.
I refuse to take the back seat in my own life. I want to see. To do. To explore. To live.
This amoeba is evolving.
Are you ready, world?
binge-watcher of television // hugger of trees // chaser of big dreams // prefers life in caps lock
