Books, Essay, Life

THE SORTING HAT MADE ME GO DEEP, YOU GUYS

The other day, I asked my friend, “Did you even read Harry Potter?” We’re best friends, so I know a decent amount about her, but this was something I don’t remember us ever talking about.

Watch, she’s gonna text me after reading this and go, “Actually we did talk about it on xyz.”

I’m a huge Harry Potter fan – I think the world divides pretty cleanly into fans and non-fans, and usually it comes down to your level of physical fitness in middle school. Despite doing essentially every sport imaginable as some sort last-ditch effort to butch me up, I was not a ~jock~. My parents also severely limited my screen time (a wise decision, because I think my eyeballs would’ve been fried out of my head by now).

So I spent my time in one of a few ways: creating dresses for Polly Pockets (this is a real thing, I really did this), practicing piano, and reading. Reading like “reading under my desk after tests” reading and “bringing three books on vacation” reading. It’s the reason why I am so good at writing (I think) and also the reason why I say things like “I AM THE PROTAGONIST” (see above).

Harry Potter was one of my ultimate favorite series. I’ve probably read the entire thing more than twenty times, and own two sets (one weather-beaten and held together by tape and a prayer; one that came in a “trunk” set for Christmas).

Obviously the follow-up question was, “What house are you?” She’s Gryffindor (because she’s basically Hermione Granger), but that’s not actually important because she’s not the protagonist in this story – I am.

I told her that when Pottermore originally came out (after I did…copycat) I took the Sorting Hat quiz and was placed in Ravenclaw. This fits – I’m smart, clever and more than a little socially insensitive. Also I look amazing in blue. I was happy to be in Ravenclaw, even though everyone secretly wants to be in Gryffindor because Harry Potter was in Gryffindor.

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Humor, Life, Politics, pop culture, Things Happening RN

THINGS THAT ARE HAPPENING RN: DONALD, OBAMA, AND SHAWN MENDES

Some days I am bursting with ideas, and I feel as if I could write for hours. Other days, I stare out of the window—waiting for my husband to return from war—and just can’t get anything done. I can’t actually tell which type of day this is because all I’ve been doing is watching YouTube videos—so it might be the latter—but I figure that I could comment on things that are already happening, thus cementing my position as someone without any creativity but with a lot to say. People love that, right?

WHAT’S HAPPENING RN:

1). Donald Trump vs the Khans: This is kind of already been discussed, but Khizr and Ghazala Khan, the parents of a deceased U.S. soldier, spoke at the DNC against Donald Trump and his treatment of Muslim-Americans. The Khans’ son, Capt. Humayun Khan, was killed in Iraq in 2004. Khizr called The Donald out on his lack of empathy and also his disgraceful conduct. In true Trump fashion, rather than respond gracefully, Donald attacked Ghazala Khan, who did not speak at the convention, implying that, because of Muslim tradition (??) she was not allowed to speak. Ghazala wrote a piece for The Washington Post, saying that she was too overcome with emotion to speak at the DNC and that as a parent, Trump should have had more empathy for someone who has lost a child.

Interestingly, this is one of the few things that is really sticking with Trump. Maybe it’s the combination of misogyny and criticizing a U.S. solider who gave his life for his country and him illustrating exactly what the Khans were talking about, but even some Republicans have criticized him. This, however, has not stopped them from endorsing him, which President Obama completely called them out on.

Obama asked if this is someone that Republican leaders have repeatedly strongly spoken out against, but still continue to endorse, what it said about their party as a whole. Yet again, another reason why Obama is a total rockstar and I am weeping at the thought of him leaving the White House.

2). The Olympics: I’m not like #sporty, so I haven’t been watching the Olympics and I missed the opening ceremonies because I was at a party, but apparently the Olympic Village (which I keep wanting to call “Victor Village” a la Hunger Games) is less than impressive. After maintenance attempted to run a “stress test” to see if the Village could cope with actual Olympians living in it and that test resulted in major issues, some athletes have been relocated to hotels and the US basketball teams are living on a docked cruise ship.

Side bar: They have basketball in the Olympics??

Coupled with the Zika virus issue, this is shaping up to be a little tough for the Olympians. But seriously, they’re all so hot that I doubt any of them have time to do anything other than stare at each other and compete.

3). I had a burger yesterday: I’m writing this on Sunday, and yesterday I went with my best friend and his girlfriend (we are also friends, but I need her to understand her place in the food chain) to this dive near their house and it was so good omg. Sometimes it makes me remember that good food doesn’t need a lot of accoutrements and embellishments. This has been reflected in my style and is also a general theme in my life right now, so I’m glad it’s being reflected in my food. Something great is usually also something simple. Except for me: I’m a complex diamond of a human person.

4). The Cursed Child: The script for the play “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” was released in book-form, and I can’t decide whether or not I want to read it. It’s not written by J.K. Rowling (more like J.Slay Rowling amiright ladeez) and I’ve already read all the spoilers—NOT PLEASED—so idk if I should. It’s interesting that this is a year of Harry Potter revival, with The Cursed Child and Fantastic Beasts coming out close together. but while Fantastic Beasts doesn’t bother—it won’t affect the original seven books and it gives us a canonized lewk into the American wizarding world (nerdgasm)—The Cursed Child totally bothers me because it RUINS THE EPILOGUE. THINGS AREN’T SUPPOSED TO EXIST PAST THE EPILOGUE.

5). Kylie’s Birthday Surprise: Just shy of her nineteenth birthday, Kylie Jenner released her Birthday Special Surprises for her cosmetics line. An eyeliner—new for her—a new gold metal matte, an entire eyeshadow kit, a new gold gloss, two cream eye shadows, a new matte, and new mini-mattes. She’s, like, a fucking mogul, you guys. Like, we’re all just watching Kylie Jenner take over the world.

Also also also do you think that Kylie will release a highlighter and call it “KyLighter?” Because I might’ve just thought of her newest product. Fucking missed opportunity if she doesn’t, and also a missed opportunity if she doesn’t hire me as Media Consultant/Product Punnist/Thinspirationist.

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Shockingly, I don’t have much to say. Well, I have a lot to say, but I don’t know how much of it I can put online without regretting it later. Isn’t it ironic, after all the bullshit I put on this blog, that I have boundaries and standards? I don’t believe it either. Also, like, besides the Olympics—which I’m too busy to watch—and the DNC/RNC—which I’m too dumb to understand—there really hasn’t been much going on. It’s almost Kylie Jenner’s birthday.

Actually omg you know what I have to say? Remember how when everyone was freaking out in anticipation of Kylie Jenner turning eighteen and being #legal?? And it was basically all about how we knew that Tyga and Kylie were together but to avoid the whole “statutory rape” thing, they had to keep it on the DL until she was legal. Ew, I just realized how gross that is, that a 26-year-old left his girlfriend and their son to be with a literal 17-year-old. For some reason, this has made me completely understand Blac Chyna in a way I never did before. My eyes are opened.

Anywayanywayanyway. Well, today is Shawn Mendes’ eighteenth birthday and I feel like it’s a similar thing for the gays that I know. Because he’s literally so hot but I was literally like “Ew he’s literally 17” but now he’s not. This is my Kylie moment. He’s my inspirashawn. OMG THAT’S BRILLIANT I’M A FUCKING POET.

#INSPIRASHAWN

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Rambles

TRADE

I’m clickety-clackety-writing fervently away because today is Thursday and my blog goes up on a Thursday and usually I write my blogs a day in advance to do the whole “Oh, is this shit?” thing that writers do—do they?—but I don’t have time because last night—Wednesday—I went out with my coworkers for a coworker dinner and that takes precedence.

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MY SISTER: Why didn’t you write it on Tuesday then?

ME: *shoves her*

So don’t judge me for posting this late. But honestly this blog is free and you guys are vultures. Just kidding.

I keep having weird dreams. Last night, I had a dream that I hit on a guy who ended up being a girl and then we started dating and she started getting too clingy but I was friends with her friends who made me feel guilty for wanting to break it off, so I just hid under a bed. Literally. My dream-self is not great at breaking things off.

My coworker just got a tattoo and it’s interesting because I feel like this week has been all about tattoos for me. Like, Tyler Oakley—YouTuber and gay icon—just posted a video about getting his first tattoo and then I was talking to my best friend—Marco—while on my way to a pedicure with my other best friend—Spencer, let’s call him, because once when we were like sixteen, I wrote the beginning of a young adult novel with characters based off the two of us and I think that his character’s name was Spencer—and we discussed Harry Potter tattoos.

And I’ve told my parents that once I’m 22, I’m getting a tattoo, because they technically won’t be paying for my schooling anymore, but they have enough emotional baggage to manipulate me until my late forties at least…so, unclear. I lost my train of thought.

I found it again.

So I’m going to try to convince them to let me get a tattoo at 21 instead of 22 so I can get one with Marco. I’ve known what I’ve wanted for over a year, and I feel like they should trust me enough to allow me to get one? I mean, they trust me to leave the house every day.

I also may have discovered my perfect drag name. A drag name is a name for a drag queen, and while I am not a drag queen, I have been building up an arsenal of mental tricks of the trade—

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Side bar, a “trade” is a masculine-looking gay guy, and now I can’t stop thinking of trade. Also it makes me think of my old AP Macroeconomics class.

—and have been brainstorming drag names. Brainstorming drag names is possibly the most fun thing ever. It can be a clever mix of dirty puns and double entendres. Here are a few of the names I have thought of:

Anya Cox, Tatya Well, Tux Titely, Rita Prescription, and Misty Meaner.

I’m not going to say the drag name because like the thing with the tattoo, I don’t need copycats. Or anyone digging up this old blog post when I’m rich and famous.

Oh! Nadia Head!

Anyway, this blog has gone on as long as it really possibly could for just me rambling, like really rambling. Like, you guys, normally, I just sort of rambling, but this time it was—well, how do I say this—like that video of the Gloucestershire cheese rolling competition? Have you ever seen that?FfEL31Q

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