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Have a Ball

2/27/2022 So I am currently writing this from a moving car. My current, tangible hope is that I don’t get extremely nauseous or throw up, as I do get motion sickness. My long-term hope, well, we all know by now. I am trying to write this here because, although perhaps not related at all, I spent a lot of time writing these articles last year during finals week, and unfortunately, I did not perform so hot on finals. But I need to get this off my chest, and this has worked as a great medium before.  Tonight was a ball. Literally, not metaphorically. Now my problems, I think, always stem from expectations. I do place a lot of expectations on things that never pan out the way I’d like. That’s not to say that a lack of expectations would cure running through the jungle (hehe) with my woes. But, it could at least minimize some of it. I don’t know what I expected, to be honest. At this point it’s fool me x193837, shame on…me? Does it alternate like the he loves me/loves me not rhyme? I guess
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The Hits and Misses

     Today's entry will be short, sweet, and to the point-which, going off my MO, seems highly improbable. But alas, I have two finals pending this week, just one day apart, and so I really cannot waste time jotting down my musings as if this were my job rather than school. (Notably, neither pays me, and in fact one is highly expensive. And it isn't the one I'm spending my time, but not money, on now. But thankfully, it isn't being subsidized by me.)       Today is only a reflection of the what-ifs. It's an ode to the night that never, was the happy hour that never could.      Me, yours truly, was actually invited to a party. Surprisingly, the world hasn't ended yet, but I'll expect to pay attention more when the Mormons come a-knocking or when the fanatics make their proclamations on the populated roads.      Now, there was one other party recently that I wasn't invited to, but that I could have attended. It was on Halloween, you know that night a lot o
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The Swipe of Your Life

 12/2- The Swipe of Your Life     The title is misleading. It really wasn't the swipe of my life, or even close to it. In fact, for a lot of people, it wouldn't even be that notable at all. It definitely would not be worthy of an entry in a public diary. But this post isn't about a lot of people. This is about the shy girl's life, more specifically Quiet Quinn. And boy did this feel like the Swipe of her Life. (She, I mean I, will now refrain from referring to herself-myself-in third person. I do not have dissociative identity disorder in addition to social anxiety, we promise).      As always, I will set the scene. I wake up at around 10am. The sun peeks its bright arms through the blinders, gnawing at me to wake up. I acquiese, massaging my eyes and swinging my hand onto the bedside table, feeling for a rectangular, thick object. My cellphone, in case it wasn't clear enough. I was bored, and decided to swipe on Bumble for potential matches. From my last post, you
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A Happy Hour, An Unhappy Night

11/29/2021- a happy hour, an unhappy night     By mind one way, in real life another. Such are the ways of the Woman of Few Words. I really should be studying for finals, but alas, I am here divulging my musings to a public diary that only I care to see. Aren't those the best, after all? The world's eyes may scour if they wish, but they won't. Which is, coincidentally, the theme for today!          Dating as a shy girl has been tough . And the reason I am singling out my shyness as the primary (though I am sure not only) factor is because, when all variables are controlled, it seems to be the aggravating factor to this Quiet Quinn's dating woes.      Take, for instance, today. I am in my grandmother's house, worried yet excited about the pending social gathering with my work. I look in the mirror and realize that finals are not, cannot, be the reason for hair that feels coarse like hay and probably smells like it belongs in a barn too. I decide to wash my hair, and
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