My Awesomely Random Life (and Everything in Between)

Posts tagged ‘Millennials’

15 Signs You Literally Don’t Give a F&*@

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Ugh.

I’m getting old, guys.

Like, ‘in bed by 9 o’clock, gets hurt while playing kickball, can’t remember if I ate lunch so I eat second lunch’ old.

Okay, I’m not getting that old, but for some reason my perspective about life has dramatically started to change within the last year or so.

I’m inching ever so slightly to the 30 year mark (the new 20) and while for the most part I still feel and look my age, I definitely have my moments where I can’t help but feel like I’ve tripped, fallen and rolled over that damn hill. Despite my incessant complaining however, I’m glad I’m in the place in life that I am. It may have taken me a while to get here, but I finally have learned to embrace the things I want, and don’t want. The things I like, and don’t like. Life is way too short to worry about things that aren’t worth worrying about.

Ya dig?

Here are just 15 signs that you literally don’t give a f@*& now that you’re almost 30.

1. When people invite you to social outings that you don’t want to go to, you don’t come up with any particular excuse. You just say, “No.” And it feels glorious.

2. When you experienced a friend getting engaged for the first time, you were like, “OMFG WEDDINGS YASSS LOVE!!!” But now when it happens, you’re just like, “Aw. I’m so happy for you. Brb. I need to order a pizza.”

3. Forever 21 is a young man’s game. If a retail store stresses you out and only carries clothes that seem to be made for American Girl dolls, you’re donzo.

4. You’ve started referring to high school students as “children” or “youths.”

5. You don’t make any attempts to hide your hangovers anymore. They happen so easily (like, 2-3 beers easily) that you don’t even fight them. You just let them take over your soul.

6. Your weight fluctuates more than Chandler’s. And it’s whatever.

7. In your opinion, looking like you showered is the same thing as actually showering.

8. “Does anyone have any Pepto?” is something you frequently utter during dinner with your friends.

9. Brunch has become more about the quality of the bacon than about the deals you can get on bottomless mimosas.

10. Nope. Scratch that. It’s still all about the mimosas.

11. When someone tries to start a political discussion at a party, you just look at them like:

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12. Dressing uncomfortably is awkward for tweens. These days, you’re all about wearing your favorite t-shirt during a night out.

13. You’re less concerned with how good you look for work today and more concerned with how long you can hit the snooze button before you have to crawl drag yourself kicking and screaming out of your bedroom cave.

14. Life is stressful these days. So if you need a good cry while riding public transportation, you’re damn well certain you’ll make it happen.

15. Joining a gym is for recent college grads. You’d prefer to just live in a 4th-floor walk up and leave the house every once in a while.

Or, I mean, you could just join a debilitating kickball team.

QOTD: What are some things that you just don’t give a f@*& about now that you’ve reached a certain age?

Is It Too Late Now to Say I’m…Not Sorry?

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The thing about El Taco Veloz, one of the most kickass taco places in Denver and probably the world, is that though they have some of the most kickass tacos known to mankind, they also have a not so kickass restroom setup.

It’s not as bad as the one in my favorite Starbucks around the corner from my apartment. The one that has the automatic light that seems to always turn off right in the middle of doing your thing. Or automatic flusher that has a mind of its own. Or the automatic sink that makes you perform a song and dance number in order for it to work. (Note to all establishments: automatic is not always the best way. Just Saying.)

But, El Taco Veloz does only have one toilet for both men and women which is kind of a major drawback.

And apparently, a very unreliable lock.

Y’all, I had to go. I couldn’t wait. Two #2’s (pun intended) with extra hot sauce and it was time to make a very necessary trip.

Against probably my better judgement, I rushed into the shady bathroom. The first thing I noticed was that there weren’t any seat covers (gross-level 10) and decided that the countless wall sits during JV track practice had prepared me well for this very moment.

So I did what many women have done before me and many will continue to do long after I am gone…I squatted. That’s right.

And it was during that not-so-lady-like hover above the El Taco Veloz toilet that I heard a knock at the door.

Seeing that I was midstream and knowing full well that I did indeed twist the little button on the knob, I knew I didn’t really need to say anything because the door would not open for the person on the other end.

And of course, it was at that very moment, mid-hover, that the door flew open and a kind-looking, middle-aged gentleman, with wisdom and shock etched into his face, walked in.

“Whoops! So sorry!” were the exact words that came out of my mouth as I gave up my hover and planted my bare buns on the taco toilet seat in an effort to recover any amount of pride I had left.
Yes.
I had just apologized to the man that walked in on me mid-stream.

As I walked out of the restroom, once the dust had settled, and the man had repeatedly told me, “I didn’t see anything! I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t see anything!” (which only reassured in my mind that he did, in fact, see something) I wondered why my initial reaction was to apologize.

And why my initial reaction in ANY situation, is ALWAYS to apologize.

In this instance, I suppose it was okay. I should’ve said something when he knocked. So I’ll let myself slide on this one.

But the other day, I apologized to my couch because I accidentally ran into it.

The thing is, I’m always saying sorry.

I’m the first to apologize in an argument even if I’m not the one at fault.

I’m always the first to concede…even to my own problems.

I could be crying from the worry and stress of a new job (and just the overwhelming weight of life sometimes) and then tell the person comforting me, usually my sister, or best friends, or mom, that I’m sorry that I’m sad.

And being the sage that they all are, they’ll tell me, “Don’t be sorry for how you feel.”

Because that’s exactly what I do. I feel sorry for feeling.
For being upset or hurt or worried or scared or even proud.
And that’s just ludicrous, I tell you! Ludicrous! (Not the rapper.)

So I’m done.

I’m done saying sorry for feeling the way I feel.

For conceding when and where I don’t have to.

There’s a reason I have those feelings and they shouldn’t just be “sorry’d” away.

Instead of being sorry, I’m going to start being sure.

Sure of my abilities. Sure of my gut instinct. Sure of my purpose.

Just sure of myself.

I’m going to stop sorrying away my problems, but instead face them.

Confront them.

DO something about them.

And maybe next time I’ll double-check the lock on the bathroom door.

But first, let me ask the moms

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My name’s Wendi, and I am a strong, independent and intelligent 28 (almost 29) year-old woman. I know how to change my own oil, can bake the shiznit out of some chocolate-chip cookies and even have my own 401K.

Impressive, I know.

I’d like to think that I’m somewhat of a fully-functioning adult, most of the time, however there’s one thing that I still find myself doing pretty much on the regular, one thing that I probably will never stop doing no matter how old I get, or how much fully-functioning adult experience I put behind me…

…and that’s going to the moms for advice.

I’m extremely lucky in that my mom and I have always had the strongest of relationships (think Thor-level strength here). She has always been my rock, my inspiration, the person I would go to first whenever I had a problem or a big decision to make. From first day of school outfits and how major hair transformations (THANK YOU FOR TALKING ME OFF THAT PERM LEDGE!!) to college choices and major job opportunities, my mom has been there with me through it all. She has been the voice of reason, of wisdom when I needed it the most.

It wasn’t until recently that I realized how much I still rely on me madre for things.

The past week alone I’ve called/texted her in a sweaty panic, asking her what she thinks I should do about:

Brewtus–the best VW Bug a girl could ever ask for–who’s sadly on it’s last legs. Should I try and sell her? Trade her in? And what kind of car should I look at getting? How much should I look at spending? Can I take out a loan? I hear you, but I am NOT getting a Subaru. 

My living situation: Should I move at the end of my lease? Into another apartment? And where? Or should I just bite the bullet and start looking to finance my first house?

That sore throat/cough/swollen ankle/weird rash on my neck: Is it contagious? Do you think I should go into the walk-in? AM I DYING??!! So what you’re saying is I shouldn’t WebMD it?

Boys: First date, what should I wear??!! Should I text him that I had a good time afterwards? Or should I just wait for him to text me? Well, things were going great! But then he just stopped texting me. I’m being ghosted aren’t I? What’s ghosting? I’lll explain it later. He ate his pizza with a fork anyway. Yes, thank you! He was a giant boob!

General adulting: Yogurt that’s 3 days past its expiration is still safe to eat, right? Huh, coconut oil works on that? So about that fitted sheet sitch…

I may be a 28 (soon to be 29) year-old strong, independent and intelligent woman, but I still very much appreciate advice from the moms. And I don’t think I will ever stop appreciating it.

Mom, if you’re reading this, thank you! A million times thank you!

*And I will call you later. My stomach is seriously turning cartwheels and I think it may have been because of that yogurt.

 

The Struggle of Dating Today is Very Real

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Boy has the concept of dating changed, my friends. Back in the middle school days of crimped hair and stirrup leggings,  “dating” involved sitting next to your crush at lunch, having your parents drive you to the movies, and sneaking late-night conversations on your family’s cordless phone in your closet. Even at that ripe young age, I was skeptical of two people coming to an agreement and declaring themselves ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’. Of course the legitimacy of a seventh grader’s love life is typically not serious. I mean, aside from Cory and Topanga, I don’t know of one middle school couple that endured the winds of change, and came out of high school or college together. I’m sure they exist, but they’re rarer than the Troll dolls I collected back in the day.

My point is that I realized at a young age that dating was something I didn’t trust or fully comprehend. Don’t get me wrong, that first kiss in the movie theater was magical–sloppy and wet and gross, but magical, the school dances and shared milkshakes and pre-teen angsty butterflies were amazing. But there was something about the idea of dating (or “going out”, “talking”) that seemed somewhat fleeting to me. I dated here and there, but it wasn’t until high school and even college that I’d get off of the bench and exclaim, “Put me in coach, I’m ready to play!” What I embarked on was a full-fledged rollercoaster, a ride that I am still very much on.

As we get older, the seriousness of relationships matures with us – hopefully. I have quite a few friends who met their “one” in high school and/or college and lasted the test of time, getting married, having kiddos of their own. There are also those who are still dating — testing the waters and keeping their options open. The problem is that these waters are full of vicious piranhas, boring starfish, crabby crabs and beached whales (interpret that however you want). Dating nowadays is somewhat peculiar; the game has changed, the rules are drastically different and there are a lot more players (hello the Tinders of the Universe).

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The modern-day situation that’s trending is something I like to call ‘intermediate dating’. It’s that thing where you’re not sure if you’re best friends, drink-buddies, boyfriend/girlfriend, FWB,  or just two people who really, REALLY like each other but both are too stupid or scared to admit it to the other person. Y’all, how can we genuinely not be able to identify what we are with someone else? If you spend significant amounts of time together, and your time apart is full of interaction via texts and heart-faced emojis – isn’t it safe to say that you’re with each other? Or does it not count because it was never officially discussed? Yeah, it probably doesn’t count. I mean, if you don’t even have an anniversary date, how can it be a legitimate relationship? I don’t know, and in all likelihood, the parties involved don’t have a clue either. Sadly, this is a stressful scenario that many are tangled up in today.

Myself included.

Romantic associations being indistinguishable are becoming a social norm, but there’s certainly a purpose for this. As embarrassing and preposterous as this is, people consider Facebook’s ‘In a relationship’ label or an Instagrammed photo of them together to be the equivalent of an online wedding band. Gossipers think so-and-so is single if his/her relationship status doesn’t say otherwise. Aside from Facebook, it’s got a lot to do with the brand of people currently being created. Yes, many things that used to be considered taboo, or serious matters are taken lightly in our culture now. Take cheating, for example. People nonchalantly cheat on their significant other, as if it isn’t a terrible thing to do. Then we have divorce rates which are ridiculously high. We constantly see failed marriages and people giving up on each other left and right. This has an effect on many – some of whom become a product of their environment.

There’s a rise in the fear of commitment, leading to a lack of labeling. It’s simpler for some to see movies, eat dinner and talk to a person whenever there’s time, than to define themselves and have a relationship classification to live up to. So while certain people want to half-date, there are a number of people who want the whole cheesy and delicious enchilada – which is a disastrous combination. It’s hard to be relaxed about trusting someone you care about when they can be involved with anyone else, and attempt to justify it on the technicality that you’re not ‘official’. Then there’s the fact that even if you claim not to care, and have a friends-with-benefits type of connection, you’re probably destined to fail. Eventually someone will develop stronger feelings, and if they’re not reciprocated, it’s catastrophic. Most physical based relationships, with no committed agreements come with an early expiration date.

Guards are up. People in general seem to be especially concerned for their emotional well being going into new connections. It’s like when you see people running away from something, so without knowing what they’re evading – you run too. We’re guided naturally by instincts to protect ourselves, even if we’re just mimicking preventative measures that we see others taking. The fear of commitment and highly protected hearts are evident in multiple ways. There’s no scale to measure it, but I assure you that we’re a part of the most sarcastic, cynical generations ever. We make jokes and excessively attempt wittiness to stave off compliments, affection or the professing of feelings. Each humorous comment serves as a bouncer, rejecting people at the door of your heart. It’s not that we can’t be serious, it’s that many just don’t want to. Serious is scary.

Realistically there are plenty of other specific reasons why dating has seemingly grown more difficult, something my girl Liz and I have had many digital glasses of wine discussing. Despite there being billions of people in this world, it’s hard finding people who you can open up to, and completely trust with your heart. Ultimately we can only do our best to give others the benefit of the doubt, and treat each other as individuals. We can’t categorize a bunch, because of the behaviors of one or two not-so-great people. Yes, we see more cheating and separation than ever – but we can’t allow ourselves to date in fear of it. All a dater can hope for is that their heartbreaks and rejections weren’t for nothing. That eventually the road leads to meeting someone special. Someone who makes you feel as if you don’t need to deflect, and equally important – doesn’t deflect you.

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