It’s 3 hours till the deadline and I don’t have an article yet. What do I do? Maybe I could recycle something old…tweak and essay to pass for a somewhat-interesting article.

Wait…I’ve got it. It's a publishable gold mine—my journal.

Yes, come one come all, folks, for I present to you, an actual entry from my actual journal that I actually wrote my actual freshman year of college.

Minimal editing has been given to keep it authentic and so as not to be a wuss. Who cares if I talk about kissing? I’ve kissed people, okay? Now read about it.

Enjoy.

*disclaimer* any names have been changed for obvious reasons.

______________________________________________________________________________

January 1, 2015 <---what the balls, right?

So, I guess it’s about that time again—that time when I sit down, rest my chin in my left hand and write amazing things.

I’ve got a bit of cabin fever. This place has got me feeling stiff and swollen and sad and thankful. I’d like nothing more than a back rub and a cuddle sesh, or some ice cream and a movie, by myself. My bipolar emotions are about as hard to track as ebola. Ehh? Hit or miss? I just wanted to say ebola; it’s what all the cool kids are doing lately.

Through this entire break, and all the opportunities, I’ve only gotten drunk once. I made my way to a beer-worthy level of desperate. Yep. After all the “good booze” ran out, I had three beers. I think I’m gonna accumulate an obscene amount of belly-button lint and acquire a wardrobe of wife beaters, each one with its own unique stain. Ahh well. It was all in good fun.

Until I kissed Adam.

Let me set this up for you. Adam is thirsty. Really thirsty—at the movie theater with popcorn, but no drink, thirsty. AND I KISSED HIM. Yeah. It was only truth or dare and it wasn’t intimate or anything, but this is with a guy who is indifferent to relationships and passion. I kissed this horny prick.

Oh Carly…how you have slipped so far from who you once were. Like, a small slip on an icy driveway, not on top of a mountain. But still. I don’t want to be the girl who turns heads with her shocking news updates.

Reasons I find appropriate to turn heads:

-Somehow (I won’t question why) I’m under the influence of real-life slow motion and I’m walking by like a long haired, perky ass, mo-fo.

-Someone is turning their head at me to add effect as they whip off their sunglasses

-I’ve done what they thought I couldn’t do (keep turning your head as I bask in the glory)

So yeah. I mean, I wanna explore and all that, but as soon as I do something and the response becomes “but she was so nice,” I know I’ve made some trashy headlines.

Rumor has it (lol Adele) that I’ve already reached that point. I’m “salutatorian gone bad.” Those people who think that can seriously blow me. How exactly have I added detriment to my life? Am I a college flunk-out? Am I a total mooch off my parents? Have I become a hooker? Sold meth to kindergarteners? Like no. As soon as the good aspects of my personality start to change or I become some sort of a stagnant leech of society, please continue to classify me in the “good” category.

My roommate would like to turn the light off, so I guess that’s all I have to write for now. I hope these entries will be appreciated by someone other than me one day. Reading along to this plate of spaghetti I call a journal, a smile or a nod or a “that’s so true!” would mean the world to me.

I mean, or it could just be me, rereading and writing. Loling and “what the fuck”ing.

A girl can dream, can’t she?

NO!

Said the man from the 1900s. Or ever. Lol jk, some men think women can do stuff.

I’ll show them I can do stuff.

Carly

______________________________________________________________________

That sappy ending was not edited. In fact, 99.9% of this is straight from my little pocket of sunshine.

It's so strange that that was my dream, and now here I am, a writer for the Odyssey. People can now literally read my writings and laugh and say "that's so true!" just like my young truth-or-dare kissing self had always wanted.

My senior quote couldn't have said it better, (or more cliche)

"Follow your bliss." - Joseph Campbell.