The Lull and Frustration

One of my fatal flaws is that I am very good at wasting time. It is highly ironic because I have a long unending to-do list filled with work and personal items.

I have a hundred things I need to do at this moment. Here’s a piece of that list in no particular order:

Prepare for fellowship interviews at the end of the month,
Start extractions today and run a PCR plus gel,
Figure out how to count cyanobacteria,
Figure out how to use the epifluoresence scope,
Work out so I can look hawt for the wedding,
Make weekly slides for teaching,
Plan my friend’s bachelorette weekend,
See my momma more,
Spend more time with my loved ones,
Be better about texting with people,
Cook dinner, lunch, have healthy meals!,
Clean out shit in my life/bedroom,
Clean out storage from brother’s garage,
Figure out Halloween plans and costumes!,
Watch a hundred recommended shows and movies,
Wash my face,
Get to the dentist pronto,
Get to the gyno pronto,
Get a poster ready for presenting in less than a month,
Do a bunch of data analysis to get said poster ready!,
Knit the other leg for my leg warmers!,
Continue grieving and managing my crumbling wall as emotions slip through,
Manage my financials,
Grade exams,
Celebrate holidays, anniversaries, birthdays coming up,
Discover new music,
Read moreeeee,
Write morrrrreeee,
Organize a NaNoWriMo with friends this year!,
Do NaNoWriMo,
Help SO manage grief,
Take multivitamin!,
Sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

I want to cry, but right now I am hella hyped on caffeine (black as black tea), and I am frozen by my anxiety over this overwhelming list of To-Do! Why am I getting tired so much more in these last two weeks? I can’t wake up early and I can’t stay up late. Is it my period fatigue? I also want to take some cutie photos with Ruby, but when do I get to do that?! Also, I’ve been dropping the ball, and I really don’t want to burn bridges because I’m an idiot and over booked myself!

 

The Book that Helped me Grow Enough to Like Said Book

It’s almost like this book, Girl, Wash Your Face, by Rachel Hollis, was written for readers like me who are wrought with cynicism as the ripe old age of twenty-six. 

First, I don’t often read “self-help” books. Hollis made it clear that this book was FULL of her advice. Things she learned through experiencing life. I did not know who Hollis was when I borrowed her book from a friend. After skimming through the Introduction, my mind’s filter only took in “lifestyle blogger”. The faucet of criticism and judgement was turned on and flowing freely, yet I read the first few chapters. There is always guilt associated with not finishing a book, especially one that I’ve borrowed from a friend who gave the book a positive review to intrigue me in the first place.

I got to chapter two and was hit with the uncomfortable realization that something Hollis wrote about applied to my life in many instances and angles. Hollis reminded me that I need to keep the promises that I make to myself. Resonation struck because at the time of reading those words, I had been struggling to motivate myself to workout. It was always on my day’s to-do list, but I easily made excuses to skip a thirty minute circuit workout. I really set my heart on the word “promise” because keeping promises says something about your character, and while I always tried to make and keep promises to others with care, I was forgetting to show that same care and respect to myself. The self-reflection, and the motivation for exercise, this chapter ignited in me set me off to find more nuggets in Girl, Wash Your Face.

I have a running list of my favorite take-aways from this book in my journal. By the very end of the book, I did appreciate the honesty that Hollis promised from the beginning. I was also surprised that her advice throughout the book worked its magic to influence my thoughts on Hollis herself. My preconceived judgements of her book because she made a career out of lifestyle blogging were slowly burned away. I need to push myself to seek more in people rather than accepting only the exterior and whatever assumptions I’ve attached to it. I also learned in the Introduction that Hollis is devoutly faithful to Christianity, another immediate turn off for me. I instantly distrust or discredit people who are extremely religious. It is unfair, but it is something I have let myself fall into. As Hollis referenced and mentioned God and her relationship with God and how her faith played into her experiences, I would mentally cringe. However, by the end of the book, I took each mention for face value because Hollis never once wrote about her faith with language that tried to persuade the reader into believing, or with unbound reverence. She stated it matter-of-factly, and I came to learn that it was just her truth, it was her being completely honest while telling her story. I could accept that. Any and all distrust evaporated by the time I reached the back cover. I was impressed, enough so to feel compelled to write this review. I was also surprised, but maybe I shouldn’t have been…?

The structure of chapters and points was well done. Each focused on a lie that Hollis had to overcome. These lies are laid out in general terms to leave room for readers to relate (i.e. The Lie: I’ll Start Tomorrow), and Hollis explains how she learned that this was a lie she was told and how she eventually came to the truth of the matter. The book is held up with lots of positivity and some fluff, but the honest storytelling can make up for all that. Besides, any self-help book’s goal is to help you feel pumped up to achieve your goals or believe in yourself. At ever chapter’s end, Hollis provides three things she did that truly helped her get past that chapter’s lie. Some of these were nice to know, some were probably helpful to other women, but none of my nuggets-worthy-of-my-journal were in these final tips. Thus, it’s worth combing through the meat of the chapters and reading this book to see what you can take away.

When You Start to Spiral

I think it’s hormones that does this to me. One minute I’m excited about finding a parking spot near the house. Next, I am sad that I miss my mom and the weight of HPV crashes down on me. My longstanding fear that I won’t be able to find a job creeps in as I let me mind wander. Worry about my body and the weight I’ve gained and the belly fat that suddenly is a part of my life becomes too much to bear. I cry, I want to cry, so I cry.

It’s a plain and simple spiral. I’m going to be fine, but it’s hard for me to believe that during the fall. All I can think is that I’m not doing enough. Maybe I really am not doing enough. But I will be fine. I have to remember to step back and take in the big picture. I need to zoom out of my tunnel vision and look down on earth from a distant galaxy. No one there can see me. I’m insignificant. So I ate some oreos, so what?

I Want Sea Change

I read a book that changed my life last year. Not only did I learn from this book, but I was immensely inspired by its author.

Sylvia Earle’s Sea Change A Message of the Oceans is a beautifully written book about the ocean adventures of Earle. She paints crafty visuals of her dives with humpback whales and dolphins. She illustrates her challenges and frustrations in co-founding a deep ocean exploration company and working for the federal government. She expresses her concerns and hopes for the health, safety, and future of our oceans through stories, facts, and solutions.

This book is a great read for anyone, whether you live by the ocean or not, whether you like fiction or nonfiction. Earle has a great skill for storytelling that will pull any reader into her amazing life.

I have learned a lot from her book, but I will tell you one of the many things that hit me hard with realization. Earle explains how our history of fishing has always looked at the endeavor with narrow vision. Focus is always on a single species or a single stock. Therefore, management of these fisheries also create policy and regulation with narrow vision. These fish stocks need to be managed well to ensure that people can keep their jobs, that communities can have food, and that ecosystems are able to maintain balance. The balance of an ecosystem however, is not easy to manage if we look only at Chinook salmon or only at Chilean sea bass. These  and all other fish, no matter how tasty, are integral to their community of marine plants and animals. They help keep balance of smaller fish and of growing algae. They make sure that nutrients are being added to their environment and that those nutrients are being moved up for other organisms to use. Earle illustrates the value of fish we take out of the ocean. Not their value at market, but their value as living organisms in their community. Therefore, if humans want to manage fishing and fish stocks to ensure they are still around for our grandchildren, we need to take up a holistic point of view. How many fish can be removed and still make sure that the algae doesn’t over grow? How many fish can we remove and still make sure that sea lions have enough to eat? Holistic management is what we need to keep our oceans and our lives rich in fish diversity and abundance.

This is only a small piece of a larger story that Earle tells about our oceans. She engages the reader with her honest retelling of events and logical, referenced revelations about the fate of our oceans. I cannot recommend it enough to anyone who wants to read a good book, who wants to go on an adventure, who wants to know how they can make a difference.

 

I Need Journaling In My Life

The rain has started in California and I am feeling the joys of warm snuggly nights with hot cacao and marshmallows sitting beside my bed as I stay warm under the covers to write. Whether I am writing on my lap top for fiction stories or by hand in my journal to relive memories, that is when I am most happy.

Recently, and by that I mean in the last half year, I have not used writing to its full potential in my life. I know that writing out my feelings truly helps me by processing the emotions. Putting the words down on paper and allowing them to live in the physical world feels like I am detoxing my mind. I am free of their burdens and I am able to see the emotion so I can put together ideas for facing or organizing the way I feel.

If I know how valuable writing is for my emotional state, why have I been neglecting it as a tool? Well, let’s see what my potential writing time is being filled with: I am watching more content, even more than reading content, and obviously more than writing content. Watching television and reading books became my method for avoiding negative emotions and boredom when I was a child. That has definitely transferred to my adult life. When I want to avoid and bury my emotions, stress, anger, sadness, frustration, I put on a show that will transport me out of my life and mind for a while. My troubles are gone and I only have to be concerned with the trouble of characters on the screen. I know this is not a habit unique to me, a lot of people likely do this.

The problem with watching too much television or other content (Youtube videos) is that when I turn it off and come back to my reality, I am left with additional negative emotions. First, my original feelings have not disappeared, second, my time has been wasted – usually I binge shows and videos to lengthen my absence from real-world problems, and third, I am regretful that all that time not doing work was filled with watching content instead of with more meaningful activities that I always say I want to do like reading and writing.

Writing this all out now feels redundant because I’ve had all these thoughts running through my mind for a long time. I’ve talked them through with myself and tried changing my screen-time behavior. I have analyzed my weekly television (as a proxy for escaping reality) watching habits and tried to use that to help me change. So, the next question I must ask is, why am I having such a hard time turning off a show to do what I actually want to do?

The answer is simple. I am scared of facing the emotions I am feeling. If I take time to sit down and write honestly, the raw emotion living inside me will burst out. It will feel overwhelming and unmanageable. It will feel disorienting and intimidating. Maybe I won’t know where to start, maybe I will spend too much time on a single piece of the problem, maybe I will not be able to manage the emotion through writing after all and then what can I do?

It is likely that I’ve come to this same conclusion over and over in the past six months. I know that the fear of feeling overwhelmed, the fear of starting something, the fear of doing something wrong stunts my productivity and ability to reach my potential. Well then, I need to take a hard long look at my tattoo and remember what I went through that pain for. I need to take a deep breath and jump into the abyss.

Crazy Rich Asians. Movie or Book?

I wanted to read this book when I first saw it in a book store many months ago, but I controlled my urge and didn’t splurge that day.

Then I saw it again in a “famous” Denver bookstore and my “vacation mentality” was excuse enough to go for it. Reading this book was such a damn treat! It was like watching Keeping up with the Kardashians and The Bachelor and makeup tutorials, all the indulgent hot fudge lava cake guilty pleasures rolled into a literary work. 

The book was written fairly well. So much of it was populated with brand name name drops and while I understand why this was so, I got tired of it after half the book. My curiosity about the characters kept me interested and immersed. Several different bombs are dropped in the beginning chapters and I’m kept hooked. Rachel and Nick, the couple this book was built on, were not very deep. They were charismatic no doubt, but their character was shallow and I’d even say under-developed. I continued to be amazed by Nick’s stupidity and complete ignorance about Rachel’s experience in Singapore and around his family. It’s sweet at first that he believes that she is smart and tough – which she is, but that doesn’t mean you throw her to the sharks. At least giver her a pair of fins or a diving mask!

The most dynamic character had to be Astrid. She was written well and her arc was much less ridiculous.

As a person who cannot stand excess, the sole theme of this book, I had a hard time with some of the characters who represented excess and waste and spoilt-rich personalities. Eddie and Bernard and even Araminta.

My timing was spectacular because just as I finished the book, the movie was released. I watched it and was not disappointed. The casting was absolutely fantastic. Constance Wu did a great job of giving Rachel some real personality and some fire. Nick in the movie was just as clueless as in the book unfortunately, but that isn’t to say that Henry Golding wasn’t wonderful. Because they made the movie a comedy and put effort in to make it HUGE and over the top, I could appreciate how different it was from the book.

Some pieces of the story line were changed and made to keep the movie about two hours and stand on its own. For example, Nick’s father never showed up in the movie and a key piece of tension in Nick’s life was the pressure his mom and grandma put on him to  return to Singapore and take over the family business so that his father could retire. The mahjong  scene near the end was great. It gave Rachel so much power and grace. Awkwafina as Peik Lin was award-winning casting. She made that character her own, and carried each of her scenes effortlessly. One of my favorite scenes was during the Khoo wedding when the bride was walking down the aisle and Kina Grannis sang Fools Rush In the build up and set up was breathtaking – at least for me. I had tears in my eyes. It was refreshing to like Araminta in the movie, she was simply a fun and sweet girl getting married to the main character’s best friend. In the book, her flaws were signs that the marriage might not end well.

I cannot say that I prefer one over the other. They were both fun to experience and it’s safe to say that you can experience each in their own rite. They each stand along as a piece of art, an indulgent foray into the crazy world of rich Asians.

The Game of Thrones Review

I avoided watching Game of Thrones for a long time because I was convinced that I would read the books before delving into the TV show. If I had taken steps to make this happen…like buying the book and starting to read it, maybe I would’ve succeeded, but it did not happen.

Instead I began to watch the show when I couldn’t stand being out of the loop any longer. Each week I limited myself to one episode in the hopes that I could savor each hour-long treat. Quickly, I became engrossed in the story line and committed to the characters’ lives. After finishing season seven, and along with the rest of the world, began waiting for season eight to premiere, I decided to finally crack open the book that started all of this.

During one of my visits to the local bookstore. You know, one of those innocent visits where you promise yourself that you’re simply browsing for fun. Yeah, well, I ended up buying the first book. It called out to me and I knew I had to commit to the purchase or I’d never end up reading the story I enjoyed watching so much. 

It’s rare that I start a book already knowing what’s going to happen. It didn’t put me off of the book too much. I was curious to learn about George R.R. Martin’s writing style and the detailed characterization that books reveal. Overall, it was a refreshing read.

Just over 800 pages, this book looks daunting from the outside, but it is an easy read that you will cut through like butter. Martin weaves his story artfully and I enjoy all his choices for syntax and tone. Obviously the TV show influenced my interpretation of the characters, but I was able to learn more about them in these pages, and I could take my time to become familiar with the houses and the landscape. The fast paced TV show didn’t make house history or geography too easy to follow (for me).

After finishing the last chapter I became excited for more, just the same as I did after finishing season 1. Even though I knew what came next, I was bubbling with anticipation to read the next volume. We shall see when that happens (my book list is staggeringly long), but I know I will one day. I’ve heard the show doesn’t completely fall in line with the books and I am curious to learn the differences.

Even if you’ve seen the show, I recommend reading The Game of Thrones. It’s fun, it’s easy, and it’s satisfying to relive the visual story through a different medium.

 

The Kite Runner, I Should’ve Read This Ages Ago

On a whim I walked into a bookstore during an afternoon stroll. I never step in expecting to find anything, but there’s always hope that I will. When I found a copy of The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini I knew I struck some gold. This book got a lot of attention when I was younger, but I never got around to reading it, though it had always been on my list.

Needing something to read during my bus rides, I packed The Kite Runner in my bag and began my forays into a world I was completely ignorant about. When the World Trade Center terrorist attacks happened I was in third grade and could not properly comprehend the devastation and fear permeating the U.S. Regardless, throughout the rest of my childhood and adolescence Afghanistan and Taliban were words I heard constantly. Unfortunately I never read current event news and therefore never learned about the timeline of events and why they happened. The Kite Runner gave me insight I never had about that time in history. 

I enjoyed reading this book for three main reasons. First, I loved learning about the Afghanistan before it became synonymous with “war-ravaged”. Second, I enjoyed reading a well-told story from the perspective of Amir, a flawed, complex, character who is a Muslim and paints me a satisfying image of the culture around him. Third, I like the anxiety and heartbreak this book caused me through a raw honest tone from the narrator. The story was beautiful, and if this were ever made into a movie (a well made movie) I would no doubt bawl during several scenes.

This book reminds me why we need more diverse main characters in books and other stories. Following the journey of Amir, a child who seeked his father’s love, ate sweets, played outside, and enjoyed flying kites, then a teenager who kept up his grades, was gifted a car, had a crush on a girl, then a man who had sex with his wife, created a career as an author, and was a patient son-in-law. These things make up the universal experiences that often become blurred in the face of racial prejudice, physical distance, cultural ignorance, and the idea of the “other. I saw how “normal” Amir was and how human he was, and no one could argue that this Muslim man was not relatable.

One sentence in the book struck me hard, especially in light of what’s happening currently in Syria. “I wondered when I had forgotten that, despite everything, he was still just a child”. As I was introduced to Sohrab and read heavy events and pain Sohrab experienced, I forgot to think of him as a child. When devastation enter’s a child’s life, they often operate spectacularly in flight or fight mode, sometimes so well that they don’t look like a child anymore. That’s what happened as I read about Sohrab, his maturity in the face of devastation was incredible. I did this for a fictional chcaracter, but when I read that line, I realized that I was doing it for real live children in Syria. The innocence lost for Sohrab and Syrian children is easy to forget, but I must do better to remember because that’s how I will avoid desensitization and maintain my outrage.

The Kite Runner deserves every accolade it received. The writing is so smooth that it’s satisfying and you cannot pull your eyes away. This story is one every person in the U.S. should read. At best it will illuminate the humanity in a people that have been made villains, and at worst it will be a great, well-spun story. I have learned a lot from reading this book, and it has inspired me to learn more about Afghanistan before, during, and after the 1973 government coup.

It’s Hard to Call Abuse by its Name

This one is gonna be more of a diary entry…

So much of a person’s personality and personal issues stem from their childhood environment, especially the way they handle romantic relationships. I am lucky that my ability to trust and communicate with an SO wasn’t stunted to the brink of nonexistence with the environment I grew up in.

Watching and hearing my parents argue as a kid was never good. It happened every week without fail. Back then my only concern was to drowned out the negative tones and words with books and music. Ignorance was bliss as a child. As a grown woman I cannot ignore the words anymore, partially because my mom uses me as her sole confidante and partially because now my voice holds more weight.

As I analyzed the arguments and heard my mom’s stories of my parents’ behavior behind closed doors I learned more about the dynamic in their marriage and lives. Both of my parents grew up in a heavily patriarchal Indian society. My dad grew up with expectations of what a man deserves and gets out of a marriage. My mom knew what was expected of her as a wife, though she grew up with more grit and sass than an Indian man at the time could handle. Unfortunately my dad’s quick temper, alcoholism, and bad financial management shunted my mom into submission.

I guess it’s nothing new when this type of relationship is still heard of in parts of the world. However, my childhood ignorance allowed me to stay blind to this truth for a long time. Now I can call the behavior what it is: emotional and verbal abuse. At first it was hard to associate my dad (who’s temper exploded on me many time over as well) with this horrible word “abuse”, but I gave it time and thought and now I see it as a fact.

My poor mother, a true lioness, lives in fear every day, full of regret, unfulfilled dreams, and complete restriction. In her core she is compassionate and generous with her time, skills, and love. She is brave and will stand up for herself, as much as her patriarchal upbringing allows. Her endurance is stunning as she works, cooks, cleans, babysits, and does errands – she has lived the life of a maid from the moment she got married, and even as a sixty+ year old woman with diabetes, she goes hard every day. I could see all of this an more in my mother despite the tight grip my dad had/has on her freedom.

My mom doesn’t have her own bank account, her own health insurance, she doesn’t have her own car. My mom can’t go somewhere without my dad knowing. She can’t do something he disapproves, and if she does it is with fear in her heart that he will find out and scream her to sleep. She never got the single family home she dreamed of, she can’t even have a garden – a simple pleasure she loves fantasizing about. My mom’s life has always been filled with financial worries but with very little to no say in financial management. My dad will give money away to family (well-off family) and allow his own wife to bear the burden of tight basics budgets. Now because my brother’s whole family lives in her house she plays instant babysitter with mixed signals – sometimes my dad wants her to take care of the grandkids, sometimes he gets mad that she’s doing too much for them. My mom doesn’t have a say in the furniture and artwork in the house – she never calls it her house, it’s always my dad’s house. She doesn’t have freedom to play games on a cellphone or read whatever book she wants or watch whatever TV shows she’d like. It’s all met with unabashed criticism because my dad wants her to do what he thinks is best.

That’s a small window pane’s view of my mom’s life in her marriage. There’s so much more, I could probably write a book. Well, my dad has completely shattered my trust in Indian men. I do not feel comfortable being in a relationship with an Indian man because I know the toxic culture they come from.

My current SO is an angel who was a blessing from God, nothing less. He is nothing like my dad. Patient, well-mannered, clear communicator, loving, sweet, generous, responsible, and a feminist, he is a rare fish in a vast ocean. Even with such a wonderful man I keep my guard up but I also put in extra effort to avoid the mistakes and behaviors I hated in my parents’ marriage. I am clear with J that I will never tolerate abuse of any kind especially physical. I am clear about when his words hurt me and why. I am clear about why he makes me angry or how he is mansplaining. Open communication is a vital pillar in my relationship with him. He also knows to never raise his voice at me because that is unacceptable – I do not react well to yelling and I make that clear. The only silver lining I see in my parents’ toxic relationship is that I learned what not to do and developed staunch standards.

I can’t look at my dad most of the time anymore. I don’t ever want to speak with him. I avoid being in his presence and I dread going to my parents’ home because of him (and joeline which is a whole other shit show). But now I am a grown woman and I have to do my damn best to be my mom’s rock. She stood tall amidst hellfire and I want to help her find peace and rest. For now it will have to come in the form of little gestures – loving physical contact, laughter, silliness, help, understanding, and all the love I can possibly exude.

My mom has been and still is in an abusive marriage because her Indian culture allowed for it. There is not wonder why I will never allow biodatas and arranged marriages into my life – I’ve seen the borderline worst possibilities.

I’m Salty About Excess

While growing up I would buy oreo cookies as snacks and hoard them like a starving rodent. Back then my brother also enjoyed cookies and besides being male, he was a tall and bulky person. He wouldn’t take a couple from the jar, he’d take the whole jar. Any time I saw this I would get upset and think that he wouldn’t leave any cookies for me. A full jar yesterday just became half empty today. I was not into that, I needed those cookies to last!

That mentality of making things last stuck with me for a while. It was bad because it meant I’d be very stingy about use or I wouldn’t use at all, I’d just hoard. On top of that, I’d buy more of something if it were on sale as “back-up”. These habits left me with too many items creating clutter.

I realized the fault in my habits after college. Part of it had to do with living in a shared space with little storage room, and partly because I lived with my boyfriend – a boy, who took the whole bag of chips not just a bowl full. I was forced to whittle down my possessions to the essentials. One bottle of this, one tube of that, and I made conscious decisions to use them. I also needed to learn and practice sharing my items or food because I loved the guy, and because I was too old to be getting upset over cookies.

That living situation made me better. I am not cured, but I work on it everyday and as a result I’ve learned to dislike excess. The idea of excess is often an underlying theme in marketing, it can be seen many and most places in the United States, especially in California. I try to keep control in my consuming so nothing becomes excessive. So, when I met a woman who did consume excessively I couldn’t help but always notice when it happened.

This woman would eat excessively and she would drink excessively. We often found ourselves in faced with free food and treats. It was because of the generosity or left-overs of others. I partake with no guilt, but I take a couple. This woman will in some cases grab gobs or eat a whole box. And when she did this I was so surprised that she didn’t stop and think about others who might want some chocolate or couscous. I learned yesterday that she does this excessive eating because she hasn’t shaken her “starvation mentality”. As a person living on little means, of her own volition, she sometimes wasn’t sure where her next meal would come from. So she developed the mentality to eat everything in front of her. Like stocking up for later, but in her stomach. While it’s still a habit I’m not fond of, I can better understand this part of her behavior.

The drinking however I cannot. Everyone who drinks alcohol can appreciate a free drink. I know I do. This woman’s excessive consumption also includes alcohol. She will have two to three drinks in an environment where being tipsy or borderline drunk isn’t practical. I have seen her take beer home at the end of the night because she didn’t have time to drink it at the event. These types of things rub me the wrong way because in most cases we should feel grateful to even be getting any free alcohol. Maybe she does feel grateful, and is taking full advantage. Maybe I’m a prude? Some of the emotions running through me as I watch her excessive consumption is similar to those I felt when I saw that jar in my brother’s hands.

However, the longer I’ve known her, the more I’ve noticed that she ends up under the influence more often than not. She takes advantage of free drinks and also spends money to buy alcohol. I’m not a fan of someone always getting drunk after being present around alcohol. It seems unnecessary to me, it seems childish, it seems irresponsible, and it’s probably unhealthy. I don’t want a friend that I’ll always have to worry about when we go out at night. I don’t want to always take care of someone who is drunk and yelling and snarky and falling over because I don’t always want to play mom. I lose some respect for a person if they cannot understand their limitations while drinking. It is embarrassing for me and them. Furthermore, it is frustrating when a person doesn’t think about their friends while they get drunk. Who has to begrudgingly take responsibility for you getting home safe? After a long night when every one is tired and ready for bed, you force them to play babysitter. It’s selfish.

This is clearly a rant sparked from my experience from last night and over the last few months. This woman is great and a valuable friend when she is sober, but I am less inclined to spend nights with her at bars or otherwise because I don’t like being obligated to a friend who constantly needs to get drunk.