It’s the eve of my 21^st birthday. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, I don’t even know, i could care less. Thinking back to last year, I remember having a quite and intimate lunch with the family. It was nice. Nothing too fancy or extravagant. Later on I went out and bought a journal. I titled it ‘adventures of a 20 year old.” I didn’t really write anything in it subsequent to the first entry on April 16. I’m awful with journals. I rarely keep them up. They often end up in the recycle bin without much written in them. I failed to document the adventures of the 20^th year of my life.

I’m turning 21 tomorrow and I don’t really feel any different. I wonder if this is how old people feel. Indifferent to yet another birthday. Every birthday becomes the same after a while. It becomes a blur of cheering sing-song-y voices, candles, and birthday cards with money tucked within. 

I’m not an overly bitter or pessimistic person for disregarding the day of my birth as just another day. I view birthdays differently from the way other people might view their birthdays. This perspective makes me sad. Most people like to think that they are progressing forward. I view it as a loss of a year of my life. I’m a year closer to death. This may sound overly cynical, but it’s the truth. Death is inevitable. No one is immortal. We are fragile beings who all are destined to die- right from the second we make our first cry as we enter this world. The day of our birth.

20^th year of my life taught me a lot. I hope the 21^st year of my life treats me well. all my mistakes, all my achievements, all the progress I make, I hope it molds me into someone worth admiring.

I just heard that one of my old teachers passed away. she taught me arabic in the 6th and the 7th grade. thinking back i dont remember much about her. just small memories here and there. Clusters and clumps of middle school memories with her face flashing occasionally. i remember that she always wore a beautiful egyptian scarf with coins on the fringes. i had thought that she was a gypsy when she had lived in egypt. i remember how mardi gras always reminded me of her because if you got 100% on a quiz she would award you with shiny mardi gras bead necklaces. It had been funny because i am pretty sure she was unaware of their meaning. in fact she was oblivious to most things. we would opnely pass notes in class and she wouldnt notice. or maybe she did, but she didnt care. I remember her scowling at me when i went on the school’s roof and got caught. Apparently you’re not allowed to go and dance on the schools roof while it is raining. i remember her because i knew her daughter. Her daughter wasn’t my biggest fan. In fact i’m pretty sure she disliked me. Her daughter later started working at the Apple store and sold me my first Macbook-from which i am writing this.

its weird when people you once casually knew die. Its odd remembering them and the little things that you associated with them. in a sense that association becomes more alive once they die. the association starts to hold more significance. 

It makes me sad that life can be so ephemeral and temporary and that death can be so everlasting and permanent. sometimes when i’m laying awake in bed i think to myself what if i die in my sleep. for some the idea of death doesnt scare me. the idea that i wont be able to do the things i wanted to do scares me. the idea of laying alone in an enclosed area scares me. the idea of hell-if there is any, scares me. I’m scared that i wont be remembered to the right things. 

And after reflecting on this i feel grateful that i am alive. Although today made me immensely sad, (yeah, fuck you too Killian) i try and force myself to not feel as bad. Some people have it worse then me. Some people, like that girl who sold me my computer, have lost their parent. 

And then i think of mardi gras beads swinging on the arm of an old Egyptian lady and i smile. 

up early. it’s first day of classes. I’ve got lit, intro to IR, European history, and financial calc. Today officially marks the end of summer. Even the weather has decided that it is about time. There is slight frost on the grass and smoke clouds me when i breathe into the morning sky. It’s not that i’m not excited about classes, i’m thrilled about them, however first day of school always brings about a certain kind of sadness. It gives me a chance to reflect and see how much i’ve changed since last year. I look back on this day a year ago and i remember a girl so different from the one who sits and types this out. A lot happened to me last year. For the most part there were good things. However, the past year was blemished with a few difficulties. At the time these difficulties seemed terribly enormous, but now i look back and see that they were just small hills that i had to climb. Now that i’ve overcome them i come to the realization that these difficulties were good for me. They shaped me. They hardened me. They made me into me. 

I’m an old soul with a somewhat modern mindset. Either that or I was born in the wrong decade.

i wish

i wish

i wish

i wish

things work out sooon. 

About 3 or 2 weeks ago i stumbled across someone who I thought was quite interesting and fascinating. Attractive? Check. Mature? Check. Nice grammar? Check. Educated on political thought? Check. Now I’m not one to go running after anything that has two legs, but this individual was by far the most intriguing person I had encountered this whole summer. So of course, I was drawn to this person for some absurd reason. However, I don’t believe the attraction was mutual. I couldn’t help but wonder why this would be. 

After some pondering I came to a conclusion.

I suppose women are always drawn to the dark, mysterious type. It’s like Mr. Darcy from Jane Austin’s book. The tall, brooding, strict, dark stranger who captivates you for reasons you can’t even think of. Is that normal? I think it’s safe to say that most people will say no. You can’t possibly like something for no reason. Or can you? 

I guess females like a challenge. They like working towards things that they don’t have. At least that is what I believe. I am assuming this is the same reason why women are so strongly attracted to douchebags. You know he won’t treat you like the lady you are, yet you try hard to please him. Why? Simply to satisfy him. Simply to attain him.

So I propose a challenge for myself. I’m writing it down here so that I can easily pull it up and remember it every time I open Tumblr. Otherwise it will get buried somewhere on my Mac and I wont remember it till the next time I go through my “rambling/writing” folder. I’m challenging myself to not be attracted to the typical douchebag. No matter how attractive he is. No matter how mysterious he is. No matter how well dressed he is. No matter how eloquent he is.  No matter how well versed he is political theories. I will try my best to steer away from the d-bag.