Screw You, Dr. Agarwal.

Telling me I can't have caffeine. Or chocolate. Or mint or soda or alcohol.

And having the audacity to be right. How dare you? I suppose I'll just eat lettuce and steamed kohlrabi until my poop starts coming out green. 

And herbal tea in the morning. Excuse my while I suppress my gag reflex, just real quick.

I Am Not A Fully Functioning Adult.

So many choices to make! So little time!

Is student affairs really what I want to do with the rest of my life? Because I think so. But I also am not sure. And it makes me really nervous. 

What if I want to work in government? Or NGOs? Or research? What if I close all my doors now, when I'm only 19 for god's sake? What if what if what if? 

Also the other thing is that I am very single. I realized this most acutely when my roommate told me she saw one of the guys from next door running shirtless and I practically teared up.

Why is my life so all over the place right now? Help!

I've Been Really Into The Arctic Monkeys Of Late.

They're quite good. Of course, I tend to have a thing for British bands--and Britons in general, quite frankly. I don't know what it is. I don't think it's the accent. I can't explain it.

Devotees will remember that the first guy I ever kissed was British, so maybe that has something to do with it.

Anyway, they have this one song, "Do I Wanna Know?", and it's my latest obsession. It's about a hookup with whom the singer wants to be... Something more, I don't really know. In a relationship, I suppose. Basically, it's kind of my life right now. A hookup who you don't really want to date but still come "crawling back to" when you've "had a few," as the song puts it.

I just wish people would be more honest about their feelings. No bullshit, you know? If you like it, say something. If you don't, just don't act like you do. It's confusing and it's hard and it's not fair.

Whether or not you're having angst similar to my own, though, you should listen to the Arctic Monkeys. They are fantastic. 

Who Needs A Sense Of Humor?

Well, it's good to know that if my brains turn out to be even more pathetic than I thought, I know I look good.

Seriously. I've literally never had a guy come after me just to sleep with me before. 

He told me to give him a call if I ever wanted out of the "honors-student box."

Yeah, that's right. I scored way better than you on my SATs and now I won't sleep with you. Sorry not sorry.

I Think I Am Liz Lemon, And Not In A Cutesy Way.

I'm not like those girls who think they are Zooey Deschanel in New Girl or Rachel McAdams in all her movies ever. I don't pretend to be especially feminine or have abnormally big blue eyes or nice boobs or a weirdly husky singing voice. 

But I'm pretty sure I am Liz Lemon. I have weird poofy brown hair and few emotional ambitions and my voice gets high pitched when I'm tired and I'm weird in ways that often scare people away and I'm not usually the "fun one" and I do well in leadership roles and color coding makes me hot. 

So sue me. Highlighters are sexy, don't try to deny it. There's just something about sticky notes and an organized agenda, I don't know how to explain it but we both know what I'm talking about right now.

I love those sticky things with the different color tabs on the end for marking pages in a binder. 

I love paper clips sorted by size.

Also I love food but I don't think that's a Liz thing, I think that's a people thing. Bitches be eating kale chips all up in here but I know they secretly want this deep-fried pecora. I'm bringing these ethnic truth bombs one at a time.

Oh god, what is happening to me?

My Butt Is Humongous.

It is so big. So big. Sir Mix-a-Lot would have something to say about it, that's for sure.

I'm wearing fleece PJ pants right now and, although they fit well everywhere else, they legitimately don't cover up my whole ass and it is ridiculous. I'm basically just wearing footless thigh-highs to bed.

I refer to my butt as The Biracial Booty, and one time I told my mom that and she just looks at me open-mouthed for like ten seconds and then goes "What a thing to say!" I tell it like it is, sorry not sorry.

Because honestly, as much of a pain in the ass (hahahaha) as it can be at times, I like my butt. I like it when I put on leggings and get to admire the C-shaped outline in the mirror. I like having salespeople blatantly stare when I try on expensive jeans. I like when a cute boy walks up the stairs behind me because for once, I've got it, and I'm going to flaunt it.

I like that people immediately assume I can twerk, even though I can't even sway and clap on rhythm. 

Why does the word rhythm have so many goddamn consonants? Too many. That's capitalism for you. "Jeopardy" is destroying the spelling in this country.