I have returned, squealing in excitement.
Friends, it's that time again!
I'm actually enjoying these more than I'd like to admit. It's the prime location where I may somewhat replicate the nonsensical nature of all my middle-high school notebooks and I don't feel immature. That's the point of these check-ins; what uselessness is she latched onto now?
Well, first off, in August I decided that I will be taking things steadily.
Life was for vibez and vibez only. Every decision I considered and liked, I was taking. An example: I am now wearing my mask again whenever/wherever my heart desires—regardless of the fact that I feel like I don't necessarily need it anymore. That decision is to enable unsocial behaviors—I'm aware—but, as I mentioned earlier, vibez only. June and July were rude, so I was creating my small joys.
I Will Not Mention A*** D*****.
I was advised to keep those obsessions between myself and my friends only. I did call you all "friends" at the start of this post, so I believe what we're doing is reaching common ground. If you've been here though, you know exactly who we're referencing, "friend".
A*** D***** has a project (f***) coming out, so you all better go out in droves and support this thing so I can have a fruitful awards season next year. That is all.
It's Time to Get Rid of Barbiecore.
I'm speaking directly to vogue.com. We need to move on. If I have to hear that word one more time, I'm finding a way to irreversibly cancel Barbie herself so Barbiecore becomes a problematic concept. Enough. We cannot go two seasons running on the same fumes. It's fall now, find some other keyword the algorithm will get excited about.
I don't want to see another bubblegum outfit in my life ever again. The overindulgence of the word has ruined the concept.
While we're at it, let's also move on from this scary Balenciaga time we're in. No offense, Demna. I miss regular clothes now.
Don't Worry, Olivia.
Such a weird non-issue. So many thoughts.
The first innocuous issue I want to get off my chest is how much this movie title's absence of a comma rattles me. I don't understand why it isn't there. Why did they decide to forgo that damn comma?
If you have no idea what I'm referring to, it's the upcoming film, Don't Worry Darling. However, with the constant drama surrounding it, one could argue that it feels like it's already been released a couple of times and we are clearly worrying.
Who actually cares? Honestly?
I just get the feeling that all this nonsense spawns from the fact that the woman directing this film, Olivia Wilde, is engaging in some regular male director behavior. She's now dating one of the leads (who also happens to be a giant pop star). She hired—although, also (allegedly?) fired—an actor who was previously embroiled in controversy (eventually including domestic abuse). She separated from the father of her children during the creation of the movie (the custody arrangement process is now dramatic).
So, basically some Spielberg-ian behavior. Cool. What's the issue?
Ms. Wilde is plagued with a harem of enraged young or regressed fans of the aforementioned pop star, an embittered Ted Lasso (and his pseudo supporters), while also being a talkative woman. It's a lot to juggle at one time for anyone, but especially for a woman who also happens to be releasing a movie.
It's concerning that some people are upholding, "Oh? That happened? Sounds familiar. I do that all the time. Not sorry though, def didn't do that to you..." 's narrative of events as the final gotcha against Ms. Wilde.
One glance at this story tells you that some human life nonsense has happened, and everyone involved is either talking in circles or not talking. Just let this lady release her damn film.
Please, I Need Overalls.
Baggy overalls—or dungarees, for my friends far and wide. Why is it so hard for me to scour the internet and find a decent pair of baggy overalls that will make me look like an adolescent boy??? I have spent the entire month of August searching and trying on with no—or mild—success. The hips seem to always be the issue. I just want to be a young boy.
If you or anyone you know is aware of a good brand that makes baggy, adolescent boy-looking, blue denim overalls I can pass on to my children, please, let me know. Thank you.
There's a First Time for Everything.
In August, I experienced my first time not knowing what year I'm in. I was filling out a form and needed to put in the date when I found myself writing down 2023. I stopped, panicked for a second, and started looking for anything with a current date on it. I don't know why instead of going straight to Google, I stood there honestly debating the series of events in the past few years trying to pinpoint where I was at. I guess the idea of typing "what year are we in?" into Google's search bar made the madness a little too real for me. I eventually did—so there, Google's AI has that on my record now.
Maybe I was taking things a little too steadily.
I'm Extremely Grateful for My Family.
Really, if I didn't have the unwavering presence and support that they provide as seamlessly and easily as they seem to, I don't know if I'd be half as peaceful as I am now—and most of the time. I think the thing I'm most grateful for is that they provide me with hope.
Thank you, guys, really.
I, unfortunately, have to say goodbye for now. Before I go, however, I did not forget the Story post I previously promised was coming. It is, in fact, prepared. However, I've given myself too much time and am now debating whether it's something worth actually sharing. I don't know. We'll see. There are parts I and II of it, as well, so that was a lot of effort. We'll see.
TTFN. TTYL. ✌