Month: December 2015

Best and worst parts of being home


  • Friends. Seeing¬†cool people you haven’t seen in months is great ūüôā
  • Shops. As I’ve said¬†before, Tucson isn’t exactly filled with spending options.
  • No schoolwork!
  • Free laundry!!!


  • Friends, namely that I can’t see my college¬†ones for a whole month ūüė•
  • Being home. So, so boring. Also, my parents have this crazy idea that I should do chores in¬†a house I no longer live at.
  • The month-long feeling of impermanence. I haven’t bothered unpacked anything. When you’re not staying somewhere for long there doesn’t seem to be much point in setting up.

Just Drunk People Things

It¬†was late and I was on Facebook, praying for¬†something interesting to come up in the group chat even though I had better odds of winning Powerball. Right when I was about to give up, though, this message popped up:¬†Is anybody around willing to help me get this really drunk sorority sister home safe? I can’t leave her alone.¬†

Ugh, I thought. I’m not a fan of other people, and I’d already changed for bed. Better let someone else handle this. I returned¬†to my music. Then:¬†I don’t want to call on her but I can’t leave her alone and I doubt Saferide will take her.¬†And I don’t trust myself to find my way home?¬†No one responded. I¬†really didn’t want to get involved, so I picked¬†a song¬†to distract myself.

I was a minute into it when the Facebook alert sounded. Like a fool, I check to see who messaged me. It was Rachel¬†again.¬†Please???? Still no responses. I lingered over the message for a while, then told¬†myself that helping would be massively inconvenient. I tried to get back to the song but couldn’t; my conscience had me beat. Fuck me.

I told her I’d be down in a minute, changed, and went¬†outside. It was dark and I almost didn’t find her but she¬†spotted me and called my name. She stood¬†at a crosswalk near our dorm with a small blonde girl in a dress, who she tried¬†to keep from slumping onto a bench.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, lifting the girl up with a friend who, seeing I’d arrived, took her leave. Rachel told me¬†the girl’s address and we set off, walking at a crawl since the girl was drunk and in high heels. I tried¬†to figure out where Rachel could’ve possibly met someone who would get this wasted.¬†She must have noticed it¬†since she said “I don’t know actually know her, I’m just helping her get home.” My surprised reaction¬†to the idea of helping a stranger¬†probably didn’t do¬†my image any favors¬†but hey, I was helping her, wasn’t I?

The walk wasn’t very eventful; Rachel¬†and I exchanged glances periodically and the sorority girl said “I’m sorry” over and over again in the same distraught, pitiful tone. We’d then comfort her and keep walking, propping her up when she started to fall and keeping¬†her out of harm’s way. When we reached a major intersection we saw three people fleeing CVS, which they’d just stolen from, but we didn’t interfere. We already had our own problems.

The first house we went¬†to wasn’t hers, but the resident¬†was understanding. “She doesn’t live here, but good luck finding her place,” he’d said. We thanked him for his time and kept going. The second house wasn’t hers either. We knew it wasn’t hers and tried to stop her from going, but she pulled¬†out from my grip with surprising strength and climbed over a small fence to get to the front door. She was met with¬†a confused older white man and his large dog, who barked¬†loudly. As Rachel¬†yelled out an explanation from the sidewalk and told the sorority girl to come back to us, I couldn’t help thinking¬†that if it was me¬†in¬†the girl’s position, I’d probably be dead or arrested. Thankfully, the man pointed¬†us to¬†her house, where we were able to drop her off with few other headaches.

“If she had been able to walk on her own I might’ve left her alone,” Rachel¬†said as we walked back, “but she was staggering right in front of me so I had to do something. I couldn’t have that on my conscience.” I nodded. “I mean, I don’t know what I’d do if I woke up to some police report about her dead, or raped, or something.” She laughed nervously. It didn’t get any more comfortable from there; we made the rest of the trip¬†in silence.

Other life stuff:

  • Finals are over and I’m on track for a 4.0. Have one other class I’m waiting for but I had a 96% in it before the final and don’t think I did poorly enough to drop a letter grade.
  • I used to love flying, but I think the 1:35 am flight I had yesterday cured me.
  • Went out with a friend today (first outing since coming back to Chicago) which was fun. Looking forward to seeing her again. Particularly pleased with my thrift store finds (sweaters from Tommy Hilfiger, Express, and Saks 5th Ave. Total: $16). Hoping all my shopping is this fruitful.
  • 23 credits next semester :O Gonna use this break to prepare so I don’t trash my GPA. My advisor seems somewhat concerned but I think it’ll be good. Pressure makes diamonds and all that.
  • Wishing best friend and fellow blogger Neftaly luck as she preps for her last final tomorrow morning. You’re gonna kill¬†it ūüôā


IMG_0981      IMG_0984

When you’re an artist surrounded by non-artists (like when your dorm is filled with¬†science dorks), it’s important to have creative outlets that sustain and challenge you. Having¬†larger projects¬†is great, but it’s important to have lower-stakes things to do too; they¬†keep you in practice, give chances to¬†experiment, and are tons of fun. Some¬†ways I’ve been doing this is through my¬†journal and this blog. I also make¬†custom bookmarks on note cards. It gives me a non-writing creative outlet and it’s fun, even though I suck at drawing. So yeah, give micro-creativity a try people.

Weird Things About Tucson

As the semester wraps up, I want¬†to look back and take stock of things. Of my relationships, of my progress, but mostly of my¬†radically different living situation¬†(for those of you unaware, Tucson is not at all like¬†Chicago). This reflection has led to a startling confusion: Tucson is seriously weird in so many ways. Thus, this list. By the end of it, I’m sure you’ll have the same question I do: what is wrong with this place?

  • No Daylight Savings ūüė¶ Never again will I know the feeling of waking up with¬†somewhere to be and realizing that I didn’t have to be out for another hour.
  • NO NICE STORES!!! No Tommy Hilfiger, no Ralph Lauren, no Zara, no Burberry. Not that I can afford to shop at any of those, but it’s nice to know they’re there if I ever need them. Also, they make walking downtown a lot nicer. (Sidenote: my sources aka my friend Phoebe says that Tucson is super poor).
  • Hearing Arizonans talk about Arizona. It’s something that makes sense in theory since¬†they live there and all, but I don’t get how it interests them,¬†and I definitely don’t get¬†why they talk about it with non-natives. It’s already miraculous that I’ve heard of Phoenix and Tucson, much less¬†places like Scottsdale and Flagstaff.
  • No storm drains in a city that has monsoons¬†regularly.
  • Tucson International Airport. It’s actually a pretty good airport despite higher prices than the Phoenix airport (small with solid service so you get in and out easily) but my little brother breaks into loud laughter whenever the idea of someone flying into Tucson is expressed (for understandable reasons).
  • Cacti. Terrible plants. They don’t smell nice, they look stupid, and they’re dangerous. Why they are allowed to persist is beyond me. In a similar vein…
  • Deserts are gross. Sand and dust everywhere. It’s like the whole state is ashy.
  • People wait at crosswalks¬†here. I get that in Tucson you guys have nowhere to be but if there’s no oncoming car, then the sign is an honorary walk signal.
  • Still not quite sure what an Eegee is.
  • U of A uses E instead of F on grading scales. Need I say more?

Despite all that, in some weird, the-dust-has-clearly-gone-to-my-brain type of way, I’m still falling for you Tucson.

Gabe’s November Recap

Snapshot of super suspect Arizona behavior:

So the U of A vs. ASU football game was a little over a week ago, and there was a group of us watching it on This Guy’s Macbook¬†during a cookout. Since this is a big rivalry game, people get pretty excited over it (for reasons I can’t quite fathom). Because of this, when a U of A player intercepted a pass, the group celebrated. This Guy was especially excited, standing up and hollering, looking quite like a blue-collar dad at a Super Bowl party with his fading hoodie and light blue, baggy jeans. Typical stuff, and as the next play started things died down. Except, still hyped on¬†post-interception adrenaline, This Guy proceeded to ask about the player, “was he white?”

My friend and I exchange looks; This Guy has a history of stupid, racist remarks, and¬†the player¬†was very clearly black. One of us tells¬†This Guy that. We rewind and pause to point out his skin color. This Guy’s¬†smile fades a little.

“Oh. Well, maybe he was mixed.”

“He must’ve had white friends,” I said. “His coach is probably white. U of A’s a majority white school, maybe that’s why he made the catch.” Most people¬†start laughing. This Guy looks at me,¬†confused.

In other news:

  • WON NANO!!!!! What even is a sophomore slump?
  • Two weeks left in the semester, thank goodness.
  • Very into fashion reading now.¬†Finished ‘Fruits’ and just got ‘Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty’. Suggestions are welcome.
  • Learned over Thanksgiving that my life at college is nicer than my family’s life at home.
  • Went thrift shopping for the first time ever this month (I was full of shit Neftaly, it is v. fun).
  • Nothing like ‘Gossip Girl’ and Starbucks to get through the morning.