Everyone makes mistakes.  We’re all human and if we didn’t make mistakes then I think the world would be a pretty miserable place.  The thing is, I tend to make a few more mistakes than most people.  It’s not like I consistently get arrested (only about once or twice a month) but every time I feel like I’m doing ok in life, I do something that quickly reminds me that I’m actually only doing a mediocre job at best.  As a second semester junior, I know that this is an extraordinarily stressful time for both my friends and me.  I figured that if I wrote a blog post about everything I’ve done wrong and it was funny, people might take a minute or two off from studying for the SEJFNSLIZ or whatever standardized test they’re studying for and think about their lives and put things in perspective.  Here we go.

1.  Eating an entire bag of Doritos does not constitute a good way to warm up for your tennis match that begins in four minutes.

2.  Most of the time, teachers appreciate it when you don’t respond to their comments with puns.

3.  Under no circumstances, never ever, even if your life/the world depends on it, should you tell a girl that something is their fault.  This is a rough lesson to learn and in my opinion, one of the few lessons that should not be learned from experiences.

4.  Just because the grocery store is having a deal on tubs of ice cream doesn’t mean you have to “take advantage of such a terrific opportunity” because apparently, you are now someone who “can sniff out deals, like those pigs and the truffles.”

5.  Sometimes, just go for it.

6.  Don’t look back at old posts on your blog.  They are often filled with cringe-inducing uses of irony and a really poorly thought out use of some guy who only spoke in parentheses and in italics.  This is also not an invitation for anyone else to go back either.

7.  Don’t ask the head of the department to approve you for a class by saying that your teacher told you to take it before clarifying with your teacher which class she was even talking about

8.  You shouldn’t ever reach a point in your life where you suggest bringing your dog to prom.  But it’s ok, it’s only if the doorman says no.

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I’m an indecisive person at heart.  I can’t help it, it’s just my nature.  Indecision limits me but I’ve been told to value every part of myself because I’m a special flower so I just accept it and move on.  That said, it hasn’t made my life any easier.  If I had a thousand pesos for each of the times I’ve pissed someone off while ordering at a restaurant because of my inability to choose a dish, I’d probably have enough money to convert it into a dollar.  The average time it takes for me to choose what movie I want to watch on demand would be enough to finish an entire night’s worth of history reading (if you went to my school you would understand how utterly ludicrous such a statement is).  This isn’t a problem though.  Deciding between the meatloaf and the Caesar salad is a deep, morally significant question that weighs heavily on my future.  I could not care less if it takes me ten minutes to decide and my waiter ends up spitting in whatever I’ve ordered. What bothers me is that most of the time, I actually want to decide things quickly.  Everyone gets upset with me because they think that I enjoy spending an hour debating with myself whether or not a sixty degree day is deserving of a sweater or if I can just T-shirt it.  In fact, I don’t enjoy it whatsoever.  If I was given the option of having someone come make all my decisions for me, I definitely would but I’d have to argue about it with myself for a little while first.  Think of how nice that would be!  Someone would be there whenever I needed them and if I was struggling with something, I could just ask them.  Here are a few examples where this magical decision-maker (we’ll call him Doug because it sounds mundane) would come in handy.

Julian:  Doug, what kind of jam should I put on my toast?

Doug:  No jam.  You do not need toast.  Go for a run.

Julian: Doug, should I meet with this teacher when I go visit this college?

Doug:  No.  You will not be accepted at that college.  Do not waste your time.  Go for a run.

Julian: Doug, should I text this girl back?

Doug:  Yes.  She will clearly fall for you because of your charming wit and rugged physique.  By that, I mean no.  Go for a run.

I have really high hopes for this whole Doug thing!  Not only will it save me time, Doug’s increasingly cruel retorts to my questions will only get me into better shape and allow me to develop increasingly crippling self-esteem problems.  This is what I’ve been looking for my whole life.  Even when I’m an adult, serving as either a pilot in the United States Air Force or a CIA agent, Doug will help me make the tough decisions.

(Major) Julian:  Doug, we are flying over North Korean airspace.  Should I proceed with the mission or turn back?

Doug:  How you became qualified to fly fighter jets, I cannot say.  For the future of our country, I would recommend turning back but my life is lonely and filled with constant disappointment and boredom.  Continue I suppose.  If by some miracle you survive, go for a run.

Julian: Doug, I’ve cornered this terrorist in an alley in Tehran, yet he claims that he’s not the man who I should be after.  What should I do with him?

Doug:  Spare his life.  Kill him.  I do not care any longer.  Go on a run.

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Harlem Shake-Dalton Style

So, I’m sure that most of you know about the Harlem Shake because it’s a big trendy thing and everyone’s heard of it.  If you haven’t, look it up on YouTube and check a few of them out, they’re pretty entertaining.  Anyway, the seniors at my school decided to make their own Harlem Shake and after having watched it a few times, I’m really impressed with it.  I’ve seen a lot of Harlem Shakes and this one is definitely up there in terms of quality and pure craziness.  I’ll share the link below so you all can take a peek.  Enjoy.

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A Little Post on a Third Grade Crush

The other night I was at a party.  Yes, with other people.  I was just walking around, getting the vibe of the whole thing when I saw this group of girls laughing.  I walked over. When they saw me, they started laughing even harder.  While it’s true, I didn’t take that much time to plan out my outfit, I didn’t think I looked that bad that my presence deserved hysterical cackling.  That said,  I was curious.  “What’s going on?” I asked. “Oh, nothing,” said one of them, “we’re just laughing about your blog.”  This was a very nice thing to hear.  I get comments about my blog quite frequently but it’s nice when they come from somebody other than my mom or some random sophomores calling me “that blog guy.”  Apparently, as these girls tried to explain to me in between screams/tears, my blog was what got them through their art class.  It was a sweet moment and then they asked me to write a blog about them.  I don’t mind having to blog, I just have a tough time coming up with ideas.  I said sure but was secretly kind of worried about what to write about.  Then, just like that, inspiration.  One of the girls, we’ll call her Blue, told me out of the blue (pun intended ) that she had a crush on me in the third grade.  Normally, this wouldn’t really be such a big deal to me, all the girls were into me back then, I was incredibly adorable.  However, Blue and I were in the midst of our several year long passionate rivalry phase where we did everything we could to undermine each other.  Hearing that she had a crush on me was not only totally awesome but also explained so many things.  In this post, I will examine that for a bit but probably not all that much because I’m tired and I have to do my history reading and my mom will yell at me if I don’t.

Ok, for this whole thing to make sense, you have to understand how much this girl and I detested each other.  My most vivid memory is one day sitting on top of the jungle gym with her and telling her I hated her.  She responded with “hate is a strong word.  Don’t say hate.”  Keep in mind, we went to a very progressive school.  So I respond with, “Fine, you’re right.  I greatly dislike you.  Is that ok?”  “Yeah that’s ok.  I guess I greatly dislike you too.”  When you really look at it closely, the attraction has always been there.  Blue and I slowly drifted apart but over time, we’ve been getting tight again.  I don’t know where I’m going with this, all I can hope is that this post might make some girls in an art class at Poly Prep laugh a bit more.

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I just noticed that somebody is giving all my posts one star ratings.  That’s cool.  Keep it going everybody.  From now on, we aim to get the lowest rating as possible on all of these.  So go crazy, person who has some strange vendetta against me.  It’s kind of fun knowing that somewhere in this world, someone hates you intensely.  It makes everything you do a little more dangerous.  Have a good night everyone!

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I know that I shouldn’t be complaining about the cold.  After all, I live in New York, it’s not like I should be expecting palm trees and whatever else there is in Hawaii all year long.  That said, it’s not ok to go outside and realize that if you took off just one article of clothing, you would die of hypothermia within the hour.  Also, the cold is really inconvenient.  In addition to my hat, my scarf, (cashmere, if anyone was asking) and my gloves, (fur-lined, just throwing it out there) I have to wear three layers of long johns, four pairs of wool socks, earmuffs, six coats, and twelve pairs of underwear.  It just ruins  my day.  Let me explain.  I decided to leave the house today, a rare occurrence in itself, to go shopping.  I got to the store easily, with only moderate to sever frostbite in three fingers.  However, once inside, not only did I get really hot because people feel the need to make up for the cold by turning their stores into saunas, I also looked like I was trying to shop lift half of the men’s department with my pockets bulging out with various hats and other winter apparel.  After six separate security guards accosted me, they finally sent someone to make an announcement over the intercom: “Guys, the Jewish kid isn’t stealing anything, just leave him alone.  Also, turn the heat up, not enough people have passed out from heat stroke today.”  Then, when I went home, it didn’t get any better.  Whenever I’m cold, I feel the sudden urge to bake things.  Ok, that’s not true, I just wanted to find a way to incorporate the fact that I baked some bitching brownies this afternoon into this post.  However, I couldn’t eat them because I’m watching my weight (where my Jenny Craig ladies at?) so I had to give them to my friend and my kind of sick doorman.  It felt really nice to give and what not but I also wanted to eat some brownies.  So, not only was it cold, but I also got blue-balled by my own brownies, if that makes any sense.  Overall, I give today a solid 2/10.  The only reason it doesn’t get a 0 is because I’m wearing my pajama pants now and they’re warm.  When you get down to it, my life is very simple.  Warmth, food, television, clothing, and sleep.  I like it that way.

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Recently, I’ve hit a mid-teenage crisis.  It’s different from a mid-life crisis because I don’t feel the urge to quit my job or buy a Corvette.  Instead, I just feel very stressed.  There are lots of things happening around me, outside my control and sometimes it just gets to be too much, you know?  Like, remember those days when we were young and we’d wake up to the bright chirping sounds of birds that represented our potential and promise and eat fluffy pancakes covered in syrupy hope and imagine that our lives were nothing but an endless cycle of exploration and self-discovery?  Nah, me neither but that certainly isn’t the case anymore.  Now, I just wake up and start gently weeping.  If I’m lucky, the sobs stop after an hour or two, but everyone on the subway still thinks I’m really strange.  Then comes the weekend.  Normally, I go out on the weekend and have fun.  But with all my ACT studying and college stuff and schoolwork and procrastination, I haven’t been going out as much anymore.  To me, that’s the most depressing thing.  Because what am I if not a social butterfly, fluttering about, seeking the love and attention of those around me?  I’m nothing.  A cocoon hanging its head in shame and self-disgust, that’s what I am and I know it.  So, I’ve found myself sitting at home at eleven on a friday night a few times these past months and eager to convince myself that I’m actually doing something with my life, I’ve decided to get off my ass, go to the twenty-four hour grocery store where the cashier has a crush on me, (like no joke I’m totally serious right now) buy some ingredients, and then come home and put off baking the stuff until it’s really late and I’m tired.  But you know what?  It’s actually kind of fun.  I found a really awesome site (www.cookiesandcups.com) that provides tons of easy to make, delicious recipes and I just sit there alone in my kitchen, baking some fudge or whatever, all by myself.  I’m usually alone because my parents have plans.  That’s a fun thing to realize about yourself; that you’re less social than your forty-five year old parents.  Wow.  This is bad.  I need to bake now and just purge myself of these negative vibes.  This is not zen at all.

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