Yesterday I Was a Student, Today I am Unemployed


Well today I finished University, which means all those long years and late nights hardly working have finally paid off into a lifetime of insurmountable debt! Four years ago I left home to go to the University of Guelph to get my degree in Philosophy, with the dream of one day going to law school, and now that I am finished University, and have gotten my three year degree in General Arts, I completely forget how it feels to have dreams. Growing up they always said dream big, and clearly I did that, thanks they. You’re probably wondering who I just thanked? So let me avert your attention without you noticing by letting you know that a degree in General Arts is the worst possible degree that they offer at the University I attended. Like the biggest possible piece of shit they offer. So here’s to the graduating class of 2015, you did it, and I was kind of present while you were doing it.

Truthfully I will forever be indebted to the University of Guelph for the time I spent there, not like in an emotional sense, but more so in the sense that I will literally forever owe money to the University of Guelph. How can they or any bank for that matter expect a person who got a degree in General Arts to ever pay them back? It would be like the bank giving you a $40,000 loan, but instead of giving you that $40,000 instead they just gave you herpes, and then charged you for the original loan throughout the rest of your herpes infested life. Is this a bad forum for letting the public know I have herpes, debt, and a degree in General Arts? No I only actually have two of those three things, which means for the first time in my entire life I can truly say that I am disappointed I have not contrasted herpes, but I guess we all need something to look forward to.

When I was a kid a teacher of mine told me that I was an idiot and that I would never graduate from University, today I am proud to say that I have graduated from University and proven that teacher right all at once. There are people with all sorts of degrees that look at my degree and then suddenly become thankful for their own degree, even people with multiple degrees. And I am not even talking about other students getting University degrees, I am talking about people being charged with multiple degrees of murder that are able to look at my degree and no longer regret the decisions they have made in their lives. I could be like the opposite of A&E’s Beyond Scared Straight, that is just how abysmal my prospects in life are. Right now there is a guy on death row being charged for shooting someone in the face that would be terrified by the true nature of facing life with a degree in General Arts, even the guy he shot in the face is happy with how things turned out for him when juxtaposed to having my degree, and that guy is dead.

The weirdest part of graduating right now is that I am entirely jealous of the people I know who have dropped out of school to go pursue their dreams. And I do not mean people who have achieved their dreams, I mean that I am jealous of people who have dropped out of school and have gone on to completely fail at their dreams, because those people at least got to fail at their dreams. I am failing at no one’s dream. No kid dreams of having no dreams when they grow up.

Originally my dream was to be a lawyer, and my plan was to go to school to study Philosophy, but what I found was that paying to go to University to study Philosophy was a lot like walking into a car dealership and buying a horse and carriage. Actually not buying it, it was more like leasing the horse and carriage over four years. What is likely to happen to you is that at some point during that lease you might look around at all your friends speeding past you in their cars from that same dealership, and realize that what you paid for is quite outdated. At this point in the simile I only really had two options: the first option was to drop out, or the second option was to opt out. If I dropped out I have nothing to get me around in life, but if I opt out I still got a car just like everyone else at the dealership. Only catch was that car just so happened to be the shittiest one that they offered. And that is the story of how I got my General Arts degree, I opted out.

Well now that I am done with the past four years I have spent working, I must go so that I can work to pay for the past four years I spent really not actually working. Thank you for being a part of this shitty journey.


Post Summertime Sadness


As I get ready to head back to University for one last year, I can’t help but feel the angsty teenage girl inside of me bursting to show off her curvaceous figure. In the shortest of phrases to describe my thoughts right now: Fuck. The summer is over.

I never get emotional about the summer. I tend to live in the now with slight tendencies to worry about the future and hardly ever do I dwell on the past. But at this moment, the dust that has barely settled from the summer is swirling around my head, filling my nostrills, agitating my eyes, and messing with my head. I’m at the sink trying to wash the dirt from my face, but I just can’t seem to get fully clean.

My summer has two parts. Part one, exploring the world, Europe to be exact. I’ve had two months to digest that experience, learn from it, and move past it. But the past two months working at camp are still fresh, the memories as crisp as the lake in the morning. What was so different about this summer from all the others? Why do I feel like I’ve lost something now that it’s over? I think the reality that I may never have a summer like it again is kicking in. That this past summer may have been my last summer as a youth.

As I look to my 6 course schedule and start worrying about my grades and my study habits that will affect my future, I begin to realize I miss stressing about things that don’t matter. For the past two months my biggest stresses while working at summer camp were:

  1. Do I have enough footage of kids smiling to make a video montage?
  2. Will the staff play happen?
  3. Does this girl want to kiss me?
  4. Do I want a freezie or a peach flavoured popsicle?
  5. Will this day off of alcohol consumption surrounded by good people be fun?(How did we stress about this?!)

In reflection I sit in astonishment…I can’t believe they pay me to do this.

I miss the adventure. Fourth year University doesn’t seem to be exhilarating to me. By now, school is pretty routine. The summer has an aura that keeps you wondering what stupidly fun thing tomorrow will bring. The care-free vibe that gives us the ability to walk around singing at the top of our lungs, not only not caring if people are listening to the terribleness of our voices in harmony, but hoping they are. Scheming, getting into trouble, causing a commotion…being “bad” without any “real” consequences.

I miss the hope of summer flings. The turmoil of the game, worrying if I said the right thing. Gathering the courage to put myself out there. The ecstasy of connecting with someone, even if it’s just for a moment.

I miss the chills. It’s crazy how people can just enter your life and become staples in your daily existence and then just like that, they’re gone. I could go weeks, months, years without speaking to them, people who I was comfortable enough to share the inner sanctity of my mind, regulate shower schedules with, even be close enough to be upset at. Some of these people I may never see again. I miss these people.

As I mope around my house, silently, feeling as if the world has ended, I wonder if there will ever be a summer like it. I worry that there won’t be. But I guess that’s how you know life is good, when you have something to be sad about. Because it means you had something to be happy about recently.

Two Paradises.

Two Paradises.




Summer Breeze Don’t Make Me Feel Fine


Five minutes ago my summer began, and a sense of unfulfillment manifested within me, so the following blog is brought to you by failure. To celebrate I am getting intimate with a Jos Louis, before it can be fully ingested into my stomach, where it can then get intimate with the stomach ache inducing Redbull, which currently seems to be simultaneously killing me and keeping me conscious. Thirty-something hours before my feast commenced, I awoke in my basement in Thornhill, so that I could begin studying for the final exam of my third year of University. That can also mean thirty-something hours ago I finally accepted my fate that either I begin learning the material for a course that I know absolutely nothing about, or I fail as horrifically as a Redbull and Jos Louis fueled heart. Now after thirty-six sleepless hours of attempting to fill my mind with meaningless course material, that would absolve from my memory faster than I could skim through the textbooks to even learn it, everything has subsided other than feelings that another year has passed, and still I do not take my life seriously.

Tomorrow, after this crazy one-man Vachon orientated party subsides, I will find myself back where I woke up one and a half days ago. Upon arrival my parents will congratulate me on another year of lazily dragging myself through university, by inevitably nagging me to go out and get a summer job. A job, the very thing that this entire University experience has been preparing me for, this should be easy, right? Wrong! As it turns out businesses are not looking to train University students to perform at a job for a span of five months, only so that they can quit, and go back to school where they can resume jerking-off to Game of Thrones with their fraternity brothers. Warning: do not join Cream Epsilon Pi. Although in retrospect the Cream-E-Pi shirts that were handed out on orientation day should have been a tell-tale sign of what was to come. Regardless, it is now time for myself to half-heartedly search for the position which is bound keep me in this constant loop of working mind-numbing jobs, the type of positions that make you feel like “if this I my life then I am probably just better off just eating Jos Louis and drinking red bull until I die.”

Sorry to disappoint, yet I am still here. It seems all that has really changed at the moment is the palpability of my life’s mediocrity, the apparency of which is now revealing itself to me through the Vachon wrappers spread out across my lap, leftover from whichever sugar filled substance my body is urgently fighting to ingest, and as my stomach ache fills my conscious, my subconscious has entered a continuous battle against a feeling of unfulfillment which my mind is immersed within. Obviously the person that I was three years ago when I graduated from high school is not identical to the one currently typing, but resumes do not measure your growth in maturity, or your ability to get intimate with a whole entire women, what they measure is academic achievements. So whenever I search for employment it becomes apparent that only a limited number of jobs are going to be handed out to 130 pound Philosophy students, who over their three years in University have only truly developed skills at watching Netflix, a deep appreciation for frozen meals, and an urge to write publicly about the average adolescent life that has entrapped them. Where did it all go so wrong? I mean I expected Nextflix to provide more content.


Whenever I look back at the high school I once attended in Thornhill, Ontario, before I left for University, the only real struggle for any of the students that had become apparent in each of our lives was the struggle not to fit in. We were literally all the same, while some of us appeared to be trying quite hard to fit in, the majority just could not help it, in comparison to one another we were all just painfully average. As a result a portion of those around me begun to cling to the minor dissimilarities that had begun to fill in their own spare time away from school, while in school, the majority began to find separation through their own academic achievements. All day growing up, surrounding me were other kids who may have looked different, or had different names, but unless one grasped onto some sort of unique hobby, like loving OneDirection, making YouTube videos, or thinking Nutella is gods poop, there was truly no way of telling anyone apart other than by those achievements that were made while we were altogether in school. The majority of my classmates came from the exact same circumstances as me; the Jewish parents who aspired to have them turn out more successful than their peers, just so that they can show them off to the other Jewish parents, an upper-middle class ‘keep up with the joneses’ lifestyle that the neighbourhood breeds, and the expectation that once they graduate at the top of their class from high school each one of them will attend the University of Western Ontario, where they will join a frat, likely not Cream-E-Pi, before either crushing or fulfilling those dreams of success laid out before them by their overbearing parents. As we grew up together, so did the habits that individuals clung to, and those habits suddenly began to transform into yet another similarity that drove the majority even closer together. Obviously this did not mean my entire high school was listening to OneDirection, yet now everyone was on Facebook, or Twitter, or was suddenly using their cellphone applications to recognize who farted, while they sat with their friends eating overpriced sushi, drinking Starbucks, and talking about Skrillex. Once again we were inseparable, it was like a game of “Where’s Waldo?” where everyone was Waldo. The only real way to distinguish Waldo’s as we continued to grow older suddenly seemed to become our own individual successes, mainly our academic ones.

In an environment that unavoidably conditions you to have expectations of financial success, it is needless to say that if I got a position at McDonalds this summer, one of those positions that far exceeds my own set of qualifications, then holding such a position would be viewed as some sort of shame, or disappointment. It would stand out as something to be looked down upon by those who I grew up with. Each day the accomplishments posted onto various social media websites by old schoolmates, allow me to share in their own successes, as I use their fledgling lives to fill the void in my own, in what could only be defined as a never ending social-media high school reunion. It is as if I am currently watching everyone that has ever entered into my life surpass me in real-time, as the pressure to begin talking my own life seriously, and avoid being left behind, is mounting itself through constant updates on my Facebook newsfeed. While a large amount of my peers find themselves one step closer to med-school, or higher up in their families company at the end of this school year, I have stuck myself with reflections that are defined by repeated mistakes, disappointment, impaired by a continuous struggle to progress past a box of Jos Louis, and the children’s book series “Where’s Waldo?”.

But what if this is all just instilled in me as a result of the environment that I find myself a product of? What if being lost and jobless after another year away at University, or working at McDonalds for a summer, is nothing to be looked down upon, and the real problem is this attitude that we have gained wherein the entirety of our lives, mainly our happiness, depends solely on these personal successes. It is hard not fall into this feeling that my life is set to revolve around financial or personal accomplishments that I never intended to achieve. While my own aspirations do not match those which have become the norm, they are often clouded by this feeling that somehow I must work keep up with all of my former and current classmates. As if now, three years into University, is the time to start taking my mediocre accomplishments seriously. At this point my depressing one-man celebration must come to an end. If anything comes from this post I hope it is that those who feel as though they are drowning in these pressures for success can realize that they are not alone; we are all just Waldo’s.

Gilt City Los Angeles Event for Jaguar F-Type


Taking Pride In My Prejudice


A few weeks ago I learned of an app called Lulu(not to be confused with the yoga clothing company Lululemon). The gist is that it’s a community exclusive to females, who get to dish their opinions on guys, and the guys are to never know what has been said about them. The application can work as a handbook for girls, who want to get involved with a guy, and want to know other ladies perceptions of him. The concept is clearly natural in our digital age, but I can’t help but hear the feminist screams in my head as I imagine a similar app in a bizarro world, where guys rate girls(as if).

Secrets out: I have a penis. This makes me a candidate to be studied on Lulu. Full disclosure, one of your fellow sisters betrayed the sanctity of the app, and alerted me of my profile(thank you to the noble mademoiselle). Now, I would like to take this opportunity, to evaluate myself and respond to my lovers and haters.

I currently sit at an overall score of 8/10. Pretty respectable. I seem to have many great things going for me, which is fantastic because the only thing I thought had I had going was my friends, exiting  the door of our friendship(bon voyage).


How could a “crush” only rate me a 7? Low standards?

I have never read Pride and Prejudice or seen the movie adaptations, but upon being called #Mr.Darcy, I utilized my high school Sparknotes skills and did some research. I have been told Mr. Darcy is an aloof hopeless romantic, and although he is initially perceived as cold, distant, and narcissistic, he actually ends up being a totally killer dude that would make your daughter happy.  I would consider myself a hopeless romantic- equal parts hopeless, equal parts romantic. Do I sometimes appear full of myself? Yeah, but that’s all for the laughs and to cover up all my insecurities(don’t look at my back). I will never stop self-deprecating myself for your amusement..never(read that in a Michael Caine voice).

I would like to thank you for the hair compliments but you must send your praise to my inspiration, Ryan Gosling, and my hair stylist Fernando, without them I am a mere mortal.

I’m glad that my social media presence has done the perception of me well. My Instagram has proven my culinary skill and my apparent hunk factor. I am also glad that the word has gotten out about my passion for buying flowers on a whim and my ability to supposedly (lucky) charm the pants off of you. I can’t recall this ever happening but I do seem to have a knack for heavy drinking.

drcy and i

Darcy and Me against the wretched hearts of women.

Sadly, like most children of the internet, it’s not the pros that stand out, but the cons. So let’s break these negative factors down and prove I am all benefits.

This one hurts, #PornEducated. I may have a PhD in adult films, but that doesn’t mean that’s where I have learned all I know about sex… Ok, it is. But is that my fault? If one of you ladies want to educate me through other means, I am a great student, with a lot of time on his hands, and a determination to succeed. I always thought of myself as Jeff Bridges- The Giver.

#HygenicallyChallenged. I only brush my teeth on average 1.5 times a day. But come on! My mom would say you are absurd! I currently have four shower products sitting in the bathroom:  Selsun Blue Dandruff Shampoo(can’t wear black without the blue), Dove For Men shampoo and conditioner, AXE body wash, and sweet lemon body gel from The Body Shop for those rough days. I spend (too much) time grooming myself and am in shock and awe at these allegations. I have gone as far as to wear Adam Levine for men, Adam Levine smells nice doesn’t he? The only argument I think you have here is that my onesies could be washed more.

#OwnsCrocs. Yeah I own them, but I SWEAR, I only wear them to shower at camp! If that is a crime, I will gladly do the time and wear the crocs because they are perfect for my use. They have holes that the water drains out of when you walk(that’s what she said?)

Finally, #Belieber. If you asked me if I have had 100 level seats to the My World 2.0 concert, my answer would be yes. But listen, Bieber has gone downhill, I have zero affection for anything post Beauty and a Beat. You really can’t judge my taste in music based on this. If you want a more well rounded view, check out my Last.Fm, I scrobble everything…everything.

To all the ladies that have taken the time to rate me, thank you. The fact that you spend any time on me at all is humbling. To the girl who claims herself a crush, I have these choice words. When I have a crush, I am blunt. I am a man that wears non sleeveless shirts, and on those non sleeveless shirts I wear my emotions. I’m not saying that I can be your Noah Callhoun, but you definitely can’t be my Allie if you don’t speak your heart. Let’s leave the games to the athletes.

In the end I try and pride(not prejudice) myself on being a pleasant guy. I hope when it comes down to it, the women of the world can base their views on me by spending time with me and being real with me, not by my rating on an app. Despite the kind words, no #hashtag can really define me, because for (explicit) sake, I can’t even define me.


Read my last blog about guys inviting girls over to watch a movie


In Defence of Guys Who invite You Over To Watch a Movie

This can happen in my basement!

Yesterday, while perusing the internet for knowledge(not hoes) I came across an article on a website that I definitely don’t frequent called “Betches Love This.” If you don’t know what that site is about(neither do I, because obviously I would never read a site called “Betches Love This” because I’m a guy) it’s basically an episode of HBO Girls in blog form(I also would never watch HBO Girls because I am a straight male, so I’m just assuming).The article, is a letter penned to “Guys Who Invite Me Over to Watch a Movie.” The gist of the letter is, guys invite girls over to watch a movie because their main intention is to get down and dirty, and don’t even plan on watching the movie. My response:

Dear Girls who think I am inviting them over to watch a movie only to get in their pants.

Obviously, if I want to spend time with you romantically, I want to get in or near your pants….eventually! Even Noah Callhoun wants to get in Allies pants the second he meets her, does that take away from the amazing romantic guy he is? Come on, a movie date has been a staple in dating history since…ever.  You know that famous romantic movie that everyone loves? I think it’s called Annie Hall. Well, in that pretty famous romantic movie, the main characters Alvy and Annie go on a date…to a movie! Even in movies the characters go on dates to the movies. Now you’re going to say “Yeah he took her out! You’re just being lazy and cheap by making the girl watch a movie at your house!” To that I say; you think I’m being lazy and not putting in effort by inviting you over for a movie? How do you know I don’t know your taste in movies and spent a lot of time researching, scouring movie lists to find a film that you will love? Did you ever stop to wonder that I put on that great movie by that acclaimed female director because I knew that was your sort of thing? THAT’S RIGHT YOU DIDN’T! Because you thought I was being lazy and didn’t even give me the opportunity!

This can happen in my basement!

This can happen in my basement! Also, see- he is focused on HER!!!

You say you can’t get to know someone by watching a movie with them? Don’t you think we could talk at length after the movie about our opinions and thoughts, and then turn that conversation into something even grander than the both of us and have a moment in which we could be truly infinite?! No, you didn’t think that way because you were so stuck up and didn’t think I would watch 12 Years a Slave with you. Well guess what, I would. I would watch whatever you wanted, whatever made you happy, because if I am inviting you over for a movie, it means more than I want to bone, it means I WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU! I would love to take you out on a fun date! In fact I have a self-made list of fantastic date ideas that I hope I can someday use(because they would be really fun). But every once in a while(every day) I just want to watch a movie! Why can’t you share that joy with me?

Then, you complain that we have to watch it on my laptop? I’m sorry that I live with my parents because I am a student, and that I don’t just take over the house and stop them from using their nice TV so I can watch what I want. I am mindful of my surroundings and therefore, am stuck watching on my laptop. SORRY that I couldn’t offer you the finest of screens! If you give me the chance of longevity, instead of a nice white house on the lake, I will build you a movie theatre of luxury, just so we can watch movies together(I will take carpentry classes first).

So next time betches, if a guy invites you over for a movie, and he invites you over before the time of  9:00 PM, he might be more than just some “Guy Who Invites You Over to ‘Watch a Movie.'” He might be a guy that invites you over to spend time with you….and watch a movie.

Stop being awful,

The Guys who actually love movies.

I can be an older guy, you can be Penelope Cruz, and we can watch a movie and cuddle...IN MY BASEMENT!

I can be an older guy, you can be Penelope Cruz, and we can watch a movie and cuddle…IN MY BASEMENT!

Read my last blog about Neknominations(and their stupidity).


I Neknominate You, Pikachu!


I think I speak in the majority when I say we all love to be shit faced. I for one, adore it. I am completely convinced that under the influence of alcohol I am a better person.  While intoxicated I am charitable, I am a terrific conversationalist, I can speak French, and I’ll show you my signature over the shoulder dance technique if you’re lucky. But of course,  all good things come with a cost. The cost for being the best me(in my unprofessional opinion) is drinking alcohol. When it comes down to it though, somewhere in our caverns of thought, we all know alcohol tastes bad. Any alcohol-less drink tastes better than any alcohol based beverage except maybe clammato juice which is infinitely better with vodka(but that’s an anomaly similar to an obese person refusing chocolate). If you aren’t a gritty old man resembling Clint Eastwood or an alcoholic, and you tell me you enjoy the taste of alcohol I unapologetically say that you are full of shit. So why on earth would anyone consume alcohol just for the sake of it?

Well…the latest internet phenomenon is a video chain similar to the e-mails those annoying people would send out that if you didn’t forward it  to two more people in 24 hours your mother would die a gruesome death at the hand of an omnipotent axe murderer. #Neknominating basically calls on someone to drink alcohol on camera and then call out your friend to do the same.

Put my head in the toilet so I can drink alcohol out of it, also, film it and put it on the internet, this is important.

Put my head in the toilet so I can drink alcohol out of it, also, film it and put it on the internet, this is important.

With each “Neknom” I’ve seen, there is progressively more alcohol and progressively more stupidity. I have seen guys drink amounts in a minute that most wouldn’t even consume in one evening. The best part about this breme(bro-meme) is the amount of support everyone gets on their video. Last night I saw videos that gained hundreds of likes in minutes…Kony 2012 didn’t even reach this social network popularity as fast…and remember how great that was? The comments on these are fantastic and represent our demographic well:

“yeah dude! LEGENDARY!”


“So much talent”

“I want to suck your dick”

The overwhelming support for the on camera binge drinking actually frightens me. Listen I am no choir boy, I don’t sing angelically and I myself regularly consume terrible amounts of poison and I love it. But, with all that said, at what point do we stop worshipping the “skill” of a dude who can drink 12 shots in 45 seconds while butter is poured on his head and feathers are then flocked to his delicious, salty, body.

Also it’s just a really poor term. When someone first asked me if I had heard of neknominating, I politely declined to participate in an orgy of dead bodies…because that’s what neknominating sounds like…nominating your friend to fornicate with corpses after you have defiled them yourself.

Listen, at the end of the day your consumption of an untasty liquid doesn’t impress me, if you want to drink something and impress me, why don’t you come over to my place, I can light a candle and I will graciously fill a cup or bowl of any size with my semen and you can chug that while listening to beats, and I will gladly record you and put it on the internet.

Keep the alcohol for a better use, drink responsibly, and for the sake of your recently graduated self trying to get a job at a company that’s not cool with hiring people who post videos of themselves binge drinking alcohol on a Sunday evening(because that’s where you will be working) DONT FILM YOURSELF BINGE DRINKING ALCOHOL ON A SUNDAY EVENING! Also your life might be important to you, I’d hope.

With all that said, I got neknominated by my roommate so here is my video:


Tinder Poetry


Sam told me that I could Tinder on his phone. Never had I used tinder before so needless to say I was a bit excited to message random women as Sam. I began writing a poem to a match of his named Jessica, whom Sam was deeply in love with. No longer would he allow me to send it though because I had spent what he deemed to be too much time on the poem. I did not want that time to go to waste so I thought I would just post it on here. Although this was entirely written by me, I ask that for the purpose of the poem you imagine as though Sam is saying this to his match, Jessica:

Hey Jessica, my tinder match
I am looking for a back to scratch
A back to scratch you may now ask?
Yes, a back to scratch!
For from our match may now have hatched
A mutual matching of hatching back scratching
Without any strings attached!

So swipe right, yes swipe me right
Let Photoshop destroy your night
I’ll be charming, I’ll be polite
But it won’t really matter what I write
For all the signs are in black and white
If you only rely on your thumb, and on your sight
An emotionless one night stand will be at their might

You see when you cut people off just based on their look
You may stop at the cover of what is life’s greatest book
And instead you’ll be left with twilight, or some crap
The boring type of book that will cause you to nap
With nothing but physical beauty filling that gap
Eventually ended by the reality slap
That this relationship was spawned by a demeaning app

So Jessica, still wanna scratch my back?
We can start up this mutual back scratching pact?
Celebrating all the common virtues we lack
For me its looks come first, and then next your rack
But enough about me let’s hear about you?
Why are you so lonely? And when can we screw?
Here’s some stuff about me that is not at all true…
And if I havn’t asked already, when can we screw?


The Time I Saw A Movie Alone


What are the complications of dating your operating system? That is the basic premise of Spike Jonze’s Her. Joaquin Phoenix plays a man in a world similar but a tad more futuristic to ours who has a relationship with his computer.

Yesterday I had plans to meet a friend downtown to see the movie. But, to our chagrin, both of the closest show times were sold out, and due to my friends busy schedule, he could not see a later showing. So we decided to have a quick meal and chat instead. As our man-date was coming to an end a crazy little thought entered my big neurotic head…”What if I went to see the movie alone?” I voiced my thought aloud and the responses I heard were not to encouraging, “Really? You’re going to sit alone in the theatre? You might seem a bit like a loser.” Realistically the only negatives is what other people will think about me seeing a movie alone. I was already downtown away from most people I know, so in the real world, there was no way anyone would ever find out. But of course this is not the real world, this is my life.

My friend and I parted ways and I went off to buy my ticket. When it was my turn at the box office I politely asked for one ticket to the 7:20 viewing of Her. The employee stated there was only one ticket left. My response, “That’s ok, I’m alone.” A sad look seeped over his face as he handed me my ticket.

Please Retain Your Ticket and Your Dignity.

Please Retain Your Ticket and Your Dignity.

There were only 10 minutes to spare before the movie started. This scenario would usually make me anxious if I was with someone. A sold out movie with only 10 minutes before it starts- almost a 0% chance we would find a seat together. But, being a former theatre employee and a social philosopher, I knew there was an advantage to seeing a movie Han Solo. You see, theatre dynamics work as such: people generally see movies in groups. Human beings are uncomfortable sitting beside strangers which makes the seating arrangement somewhat like a game of Tetris. Every group is a different shape filling up spots, but they don’t like to ever connect, always leaving one awkward seat open, forcing groups of two or more in a sold out movie to either sit in the very front or leave. But alas, I was alone and that awkward lonesome seat was for a lonesome awkward me. I walked in and saw an upper middle seat fully vacant. I walked up and exclaimed “is anyone sitting there?” to the whole row. All the heads turned and paused for a moment of silence, they were commemorating the dignity they had thought I just lost. The 20 something guy and his girlfriend on one side of the seat and the grandmother with her family on the other both mumbled that it was available. I slithered my way past 6 people and claimed my throne in the best seat in the house as the pity of the theatre patrons surrounded me.


At least he was with his computer….

The movie experience was incredible. Not only was it one of the best movies I think I have ever seen, but I was able to fully enjoy it without worrying about what someone else thought as I was watching. Also, after the movie I knew right away that I had loved it and my opinion was not clouded by what my viewing partner thought.

I left my companionless movie viewing very pleased with the experience. I was scot free, the only ridicule and awkward glances I had received were from complete strangers, which is perfectly fine by me. But as I said, this is my life, and there was no away this was going to end harmoniously. As I exited the theatre I locked eyes with a girl whom I used to lust after, who was aware of my inner desires, and was seemingly on a date. She walked over and merrily asked “SAM! What are you doing here? Did you just see a movie?” I said that I had just seen Her. She asked, “Who did you see it with?” I confidently said “I actually saw it alone.” The look of pity overwhelmed her face. She then quickly introduced me to her date, we shook hands, had some quick small talk and parted ways.

I was alone, watching a movie about a guy in a relationship with a computer, and was caught in this experience by a former crush who was currently on a date.

Read my last blog about New Years Eve Anxiety


New Years Eve Anxiety

Stop making it seem like I am going to have a magical evening, MY LIFE ISN'T A MOVIE LIKE YOU ZAC EFRON!

We’re only a few days away from one of the most over-hyped days of the year, New Years Eve. What a spectacle this evening is. Every year people plan for months in advance the festivities of the evening, as if it were to be a wedding, where as it usually ends up like your family friends bris (under-whelming with surges of pain through your penis).  I rarely am ever in town for New Years and the years I have been I have been in an age of minority. But now at the tender age of 20, home for the holidays, having to make plans for myself,  the New Years Eve anxiety has kicked in and I have as many problems as there are characters in the movie New Years Eve starring Halle Berry, Jessica Biel, Jon Bon Jovi, Abigail Breslin, Robert De Niro, Josh Duhamel, Zac Efron, Katherine Heigl, Ashton Kutcher, Seth Meyers, Lea Michele, Sarah Jessica Parker, Michelle Pfeiffer, Hilary Swank, Sofía Vergara, Common, Ludacris, and Russel Peters.

Stop making it seem like I am going to have a magical evening, MY LIFE ISN'T A MOVIE LIKE YOU ZAC EFRON!

Stop making it seem like I am going to have a magical evening, MY LIFE ISN’T A MOVIE LIKE YOU ZAC EFRON!

The Dilemmas:

1. Who am I going to spend New Years with? According to one friend, If I was a good son I would probably consider a nice evening with my parents, but they’re pretty sick of me so I think I’ll give them the night off. No, New Years must be spent with friends, but which ones? Because I have always had a problem with indecisiveness, I don’t have a singular group of friends but more so a pool of friends, all of whom are not friends with each other.  I really fucked up the friend making thing in my younger years(but that’s for another blog). I need 1-2 people to be open to anything, willing to spend money and alleviate the cost of an adventure.

The saddest looking group of friends ever.

The saddest looking group of friends ever.

2. Where am I taking my sweet ass? Because I am naive to life, I didn’t know I had to buy an $80 ticket to a club, not that I want to go to a club, but really what else is there to do? Ideally, I would love to dress up in fine formal wear and go to an acquaintances rooftop loft and have an elegant evening with a platonic female friend who will later become the romance of my life, but sadly I don’t live in the plotline of When Harry Met Sally, so that is off the table. If you know of any cool events, please inform me, actually though, I’m getting desperate.

get some air

10…9…8…”Wanna get some air?”

3. Who will I kiss? Let’s face it, that’s the big question and pressure of the night, there needs to be a kiss to call the night a success. You people can lie to yourselves all you want, I know you are face-stalking the hell out of people to choose ideal candidates for the first kiss of the new year. If someone of the opposite sex communicates with you within a 3 day radius of New Years, you know it’s on for the midnight make out. Now is the perfect time to bust Tinder open and get those fingers a swiping, I won’t judge you, but you should probably make your New Year’s resolution to uninstall Tinder.

4. Set a New Year’s Resolution.  I always set one and can never remember it for the life of me. I am pretty sure my 2013 resolution was to get in shape. Well, I am still a shape, its long and lanky, so, somewhat achieved? You have to set the goal on New Year’s, or else it doesn’t encapsulate the magic-this is a known life fact. I’m stuck between “have a romantic life that doesn’t consist of me being single and just watching every rom-com and reading every young adult novel” and “grow bangs.” Fucking New Years eve, so many difficulties.

Bangs...Probably the better option

Bangs…Probably the better option

With only days to go, I don’t think I am going to make it to the big event, I may take 8 melatonin and sleep the whole night just so I won’t feel the sadness of being underwhelmed come January 1st.

What are your big New Years Plans…or Who is your big New Years plans?