Venus of the Impulsive Tribe

I think the reason I have so many stories to tell is that I’m impressively impulsive. You know what they saaay, “Bad decisions make great stories.” And boy, I have a whole treasury of bad decisions that it’s just not great anymore.

There was this one time, I went to the mall to get a mani-pedi and I already laid out an elaborate plan before leaving the house.

  1. Go to the mall.
  2. Get my mani-pedi.
  3. Have lunch.
  4. Go home.
No window shopping turned actual shopping, no unnecessary spending, no wasting of your saved money. But of course, things didn’t go according to plan. They almost never do, actually. Here’s what really happened:
  1. Go to the mall.
  2. Get mani-pedi.
  3. Stroll around a bit.
  4. Found this really really cute necklace.
  5. See that it costs 1000+++.
  6. Go, “Oh, what the hell,” and buy it anyway. (Whaaaaaat?! It’s really cute!)
  7. End up hungry and penniless so take the cab and make mom pay for the fare when you reach home.
Aaand, that’s basically how my life goes. When it comes to big life decisions, I don’t evaluate the risks and even if I do, I ignore them anyway. I don’t let fear take over me. I don’t get paranoid and go, “What if it doesn’t work out?” Or “Oh my gosh oh my gosh this thing’s gonna hurt me in the eeend!” I don’t go through that stage at all. When I want something, I go ahead with it and face whatever obstacle is in the way with my amazing wit and smile.
And even if my life consisted of a lot of tears and other shenanigans, it was fun. At 18, I can give kickass advice on certain topics and it’s just awesome. 

Pseudowriting Chapter 1

My name is Julienne Prescott and from this day on, I will carry this journal everywhere I go and write about any significant thing that happens. Keep in mind that I use the word significant very loosely here because given this digital age, basically everything of significance now happens online. Besides, my life is so boring, Boring got insulted when I used him to describe my life.
If you were wondering what prompted me to start this journal, well, it’s for my future biographers. I wouldn’t want them to have a hard time writing about my awesome life, right? I’m kidding. The real reason’s  cheesy, though. I just don’t want to forget the important things in life. I want to have something to look back to.
Oh god, here he comes. He’s just so arrogan—oh, right. This is in written form. I can’t just babble here and expect you to see what’s going on around me like in the movies. Well, I’m sitting here under my usual tree and the one who’s coming is named Peter.
Peter Lewison is your typical popular guy, except that he’s not dumb. He’s actually pretty smart, second only to me in this school. I used to have this huge crush on him. See, we’ve been in the same school ever since kids were sent to school. Back in grade school, he wasn’t much of a jerk; he actually sort of acted as my guardian from the bullies and bitches that made my life miserable. And now that we’re in college, well, the crush faded because he never asked me out and now we’re just really good buds, like siblings; also because I grew up [HAHA]. We always fight, though because along the way he became this cool dude, albeit a jerk, you get it; but I guess when you’ve been friends with someone for so long, even if they change a bit, because you know the person within, you wouldn’t mind.
“Hey, Asperger’s!” Pete shouted it from across the grounds.
“I don’t have Asperger’s! Having an unusual interest in some things and a photographic memory doesn’t automatically mean you have Asperger’s,” I shouted back as he made his way to my tree.
“Don’t you think it’s better to just have Asperger’s instead of admitting that you’re a full-fledged nerd?”
“It’s okay being a nerd when the whole school wants to date you and look who’s not a nerd. You’re on top of the class, too, idiot.”
“But I play football. You’re into music and poetry and other nerdy stuff. AND I’m not interested in dating you,” he said as he ruffled my hair.
“That’s just because I hurt your ego, Mr. I’m-so-perfect,” I said with my tongue stuck out. He seemed to have noticed my little journal. Oh no. No no no.
“What’s that you got there? Little-miss-I-hate-conforming is keeping a girly diary?”
“It’s a journal! So I will remember how arrogant you are. That’s another reason you never asked me out. You prefer cheerleaders who cheers for you all the time. Look, there goes miss dumbhead.”
“She’s very beautiful and she’s not dumb. Jessie’s her year’s representative for Chemistry, remember?”
“Ehem. ‘A fool is wise in his eyes,’” I said in the lowest voice I could manage.
“Seriously, you’re just gonna borrow every important feeling from famous people?”
“The Earth has been around for billions of years and in the process have been inhabited by billions of people, some of them happen to be wise. And these wise people have uttered or written almost every important thing and feeling there is. Sure, I could say it in my own words but why choose mine when there is a better version for it? They get their living from making even the worst things seem beautiful.”
He was raising his eyebrows now. “I don’t know, because it has more heart to it when you use your own words?”
“Oh, just go to your girlfriend.”
“Maybe later, she’s still talking to her friends in high pitched tones. It’s so annoying.”
“Good to know I’m rubbing off on you.”
We just sat there for a while catching up on each other’s summers, occasionally throwing witty banters at each other. My boyfriend for 3 years, Max, passed but he’s heading to class so he didn’t get to stay. He’s got such a sexy name, Maximilian. Maximilian Peters, yes, I got two Petes in my life. And I’m extremely lucky that they get along pretty good, too.
“Hey, Pete. Do you know that Beatles song, I Want to Hold Your Hand?” He nodded, looking deep in thought as he stared at the clear blue sky. “I think that’s the meaning of true love. When all you wanna do is hold a person’s hand. Have you ever felt that way, Pete?”
His eyes were still fixed on the heavens, “Yes… Yes I have. Hey, uh, I gotta jet, Jessie’s calling me. See ya later, Yen!”
“Yah, later.”
So Peter’s in love. Why am I hurting? I’m supposed to be over him, and besides, it was just a crush. No, I’m just jealous because him being in love might mean we’d slowly drift apart. Yes, that’s it.