Of New Chapters

Belle - Beauty and the Beast

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That’s why I’m going. So I don’t have to wait until I die to start seeking a Great Perhaps.” – John Green, Looking for Alaska.

Routine is nice, but it’s a wee bit on the boring side. Lately it feels like I’ve been meandering aimlessly – when I could have been frolicking gleefully.

Everyday I bitch about waking up, I hate waking up, almost as much as I hate getting ready for bed. Though nothing is worse than getting ready for bed. I’d rather be forced to play team sports or do yoga – both activities I suck at, and have zero desire to participate in.

Then I do your basics: shower, make coffee, grab breakfast on the go, tailgate the assholes who refuse to drive the speed limit, scurry into the office, and get everything set up before my bosses arrive.

Next up, I work. I truly enjoy my job, I do, so I don’t mind working – but still, routine.

Lastly, I go home and hang out with the roommates. And then one, if not all, of these scenarios will play out:

  1. We spend at least an hour trying to figure out what to make for dinner.
  2. We talk about dance (or actually dance).
  3. We talk about failed attempts at romance.
  4. We watch a movie.




I’m starting to get thirsty for something new and exciting – a Great Perhaps, you could say.

I need to step outside my comfort zone. Meet strangers. Try new activities. To stop talking and actually do something. However, I require someone else to hold me accountable thanks to my minuscule self-motivation skills.

Cause you see, I’m great at talking about what I want to do, but I rarely actually do anything outside of my routine.

I’ve always wanted to:

  • Perform burlesque.
  • Write freelance articles for a sub-pop culture magazine or literary journal.
  • Write a novel.
  • Start a vlog.
  • Successfully ask out a stranger.
  • Learn to hula hoop dance.
  • Sew an outfit that doesn’t look homemade.
  • Get proper DJ equipment and mix my own tracks.

Alas, here I sit. Doing nothing.

I talk to the same lovely people everyday. Eat the same foods. Do the same activities. And succeed at hiding myself away in my cozy little corner, where everything is safe, and I never have to deal with anything uncomfortable or intimidating.


Of Coins


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My name is Sarah, and I’m not a penny hater.

People hate coins. Copper crap. Silver shit. Gold garbage – all nicknames given to our money. Ultimately, a lot of people who I know try to avoid coins by paying in exact change or leaving excess coinage in a tip jar. Most of the folks that I come across loathe coins because they way down their wallet. It’s too heavy, they say. My pocket/purse gets too bulky, they whine. But very few complain because of the reality that it costs more to make a penny than a penny is worth. The poor dears simply find coins inconvenient.

Even though I know that John Green (from the video above is right). I still don’t hate coins. Sorry John. As far as I’m concerned until pennies become discontinued I will happily keep them. Because it’s still money! That’s something I’ve never understood, coins are still money yet people think of them like they’re gravel.

Coins are often treated like the free coffee available at rest areas along the freeway, whereas a bill is an espresso – but guess what? It’s still coffee, and sometimes, you need that free coffee so you don’t fall asleep and swerve off the road.

I’ve had people hand me their change of 98 cents because they can’t tolerate circular money. I’ve seen several customers reject their 75 cent change. I know a lot of people who keep coins in large jars and decorate with them instead of investing. Recently I took all the change that I’ve acquired over the past few months (mostly pennies), rolled it up, and deposited $26 worth of coins at the bank. And guess what? They accepted it! It’s true that pennies aren’t cost efficient in terms of their creation, but I was able to fill up on gas with them, for that I’m grateful.

So yeah, I don’t hate quarters, nickels, and dimes – not even pennies.

Maybe I will when I’m no longer a starving recent college grad and can afford to whine over a heavy purse. I’d rather complain over the politics behind creating coins in the first place, that is, if I were to join Team Coins Suck. But I’m still too poor to properly care about the issue. So for now, if digging through a pile of coins is what allows me to buy my vanilla latte in the morning, so be it.

Coin Jar

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Of My Habitual Bookshelf

Book shelf

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My books are organized alphabetically – by title. Many book lovers I know take the time to arrange their books by genre, then by authors last name, and lastly by title. I’m not a library, there’s no need for me to so intricately categorize my books. When I’m in a literature mood I don’t browse based off genre, I think of the book I want and find it with ease. It didn’t occur to me until tonight that my bookshelf might be functioning as a hindrance to my reading life.

For you see, I’m a creature of habit, as many are. I order the same coffee almost everyday (double, 12oz, vanilla, latte, hot). I always go to the same restaurants and when I do I order the same food (I know it’s good, if I’m feeling adventurous I’ll take a bite of someone else’s food, my choice is a guaranteed success). I watch the same style of movie or TV show. I walk the same trails with my friends. I even play the same songs on the piano. I’m highly predictable – makes it easy to buy presents for me.

Tonight I was in a reading mood, so naturally I went to my bookshelf. It’s remarkable how many of my books I’ve never even read a page of, and I’d say half of the one’s that I have read were never finished. In theory, my unread bookshelf should give me a lot of options when picking out a book. But as I stared at the titles I kept flicking my eyes towards my favorites. Skimming over the titles that I really should read, since I own them, and pausing upon books that I have read multiple times. It took a lot of restraint to not grab The Giver by Lois Lowry for the fourteenth time and choose a new book. Well, new to me anyways.

Thanks to my self-control (and trust me, it was mentally tiring) I picked up White Oleander by Janet Fitch, a book that I’ve been meaning to read for years – and no, I’ve never seen the movie. Starting tonight I shall read this book I’ve never read, and who knows, someday I might be able to say I’ve read every book I own. Nah, probably not, I’ll shoot for 50%.

Maybe when my lease is up, and I’m once again forced to relocate my library, I’ll try a new method of organizing. Force myself to say, “I should read a fantasy novel,” and sift through that section. Instead of, “I’m going to read Looking for Alaska (by John Green) or Me Talk Pretty One Day (by David Sedaris) …. again.” 

And perhaps it doesn’t matter. Odds are, no matter what I do, I’ll still fall into the same habitual tendencies.