Living in Minneapolis & Still Awkward

I re-read the last post I wrote and I shivered. LITERALLY SHIVERED. Too much seriousness, not enough sass and laughter. Then again, it’s also presumptuous to think that the three of you readers (although, maybe I’m down to two now…serious posts will do that) laugh hysterically, in public places (such as public restrooms or quiet corners of the library) at all the things I post.

But I’m all about having a healthy self-esteem level, so I imagine the three of you cackling loudly at bus stops while others look at you like you’re a bit crazy. Who knows, maybe they’re right. (I don’t judge).

In other words, I think my despair peaked a few weeks ago (the feeling of loneliness, restlessness, quarter-life-crisis-ness), and I’m back in business. Lucky for you!

So now that I’m not crying all the time, I’ve been able to reflect on all the wonderfully awkward experiences that I’ve had since becoming a Minneapolite (Minneapolian? Minneapolist? #identitycrisis). Let me tell you, there have been quite a few. If I’m being honest though, the awkward moments start as soon as my alarm clock goes off in the morning.

Since I don’t to subject you to the world’s longest list of awkward moments, I’ve narrowed it down to 8:

1.) I’ve become terrible at maintaining a blog. Case in point, my last update? October 4th. AND IT WAS DEPRESSING. This isn’t necessarily awkward as it is shameful. I promise to never abandon you again, blog.

2.) I’ve moved twice within the first two weeks of my being here. But hey, who’s counting? This is why you need to research your neighborhoods before you move, folks. The first apartment I moved to seemed legit. Then my landlord mentioned (after I signed the lease) that, even if I’m walking with another friend, I shouldn’t walk outside after 8 PM. Suddenly things looked a little different, and even though I was safely tucked inside each night by 7:59 PM (I don’t mess around people!) I heard more sirens than I did when I actually worked at a hospital. So #YOLO I moved and now live near Lake Calhoun that boasts pretty views such as this:

Lake Calhoun before Minneapolis became a frozen tundra

Lake Calhoun before Minneapolis became a frozen tundra

3.) I’ve watched every movie and TV series I own at least three times. #livingalone #ineednetflix But seriously, if anyone wants to have a monologue presentation of Pride & Prejudice, let me know. I can be Lizzie Bennet and Mr. Darcy, I have those lines DOWN. Or I can recite all the lines from Vampire Diaries, seasons one and two. It’s good to have options, you know?

4.) The bus system is kind of complex and so are the characters who ride it. I’ve had the misfortune of getting on the 6U and 61 buses instead of the 6A, 6E or 6B– no, people, they are NOT interchangeable, why would you think that? I’ve also managed to meet a new (unwanted) friend on the bus, too. He interrupted my precious writing time by waving his hand right under my nose so I’d notice him. He made his even SMOOTHER entrance by saying “hey, you know, you write funny, right girl?” Then, before I could say anything, he said “Oh yeah, you’re one of those lefties, huh?” to which I just nodded, because what else was I supposed to do? Our conversation His monologue continued with him saying he’s going to school for music production, that he wants to open his own studio, and someday he’s going to need a writer, so he’s going to keep me in mind. Does anyone else hear wedding bells? Look for your Save the Date in the mail, people.

5.) I’ve made only two new friends since moving to Minneapolis. Neither of them are human. Their names are Button the Cat and Luna the Dog, and they are lovely company. They get me. It’s a forever kind of friendship.

Button baby #fierce

Button baby #fierce

Miss Luna (Does this picture make my knee look fat?)

Miss Luna (Does this picture make my knee look fat?)

6.) I had to take a written driver’s license test and almost didn’t pass. There I was in a cubicle, staring at a computer screen with clunky headphones on while some robot woman loudly read the questions in my ear. I had about 5 questions left when I realized I couldn’t get anymore questions wrong if I wanted to pass. It’s at that moment where I mentally kicked myself for A.) not paying attention during driver’s ed when I was 15 and B.) for moving to a state that has stupid requirements like this (#LOSEsota). I needed to get an 80-percent. I got an 82-percent. In case you didn’t realize how close I was to failing, I called my Dad after and told him this, to which he replied. “That’s cutting it a bit close, don’t you think, Erin?” THANKS DAD. In my head, though, I was like this:


7.) I’m 22 years old, have a full-time job and am living on my own in a large city, yet I’ve gotten asked three times what year I am in high school. Need I say more?

Example of some scaffolding. Perfect for crashing rap videos.

Example of some scaffolding. Perfect for crashing rap videos.

8.) I accidentally ended up in a rap music video. There I was, walking home from the bus stop and having to pass under scaffolding. Two guys were walking pretty slow ahead of me, weaving around one another, making it really difficult for me to pass them. They were flailing their arms around, too, as one rapper might do in a rap video, but I didn’t put two and two together, obviously. I had my headphones in, so I couldn’t hear them, but I kept trying to say excuse me to them. Anyone who knows me knows how much I HATE walking slow, so I was a bit irritated. I finally made my break, though. I finally got around them! As I started to walk, though, I noticed a man holding a camera at the end of the scaffolding. And then I realized what was happening, ducked quickly out of the scaffolding while the camera man glared at me and I started to laugh. So look for me on YouTube, readers. #thuglyfe  #streetcred

So if anyone has wondered what I’ve been up to thus far in Minneapolis…. now you’re caught up to speed.


5 thoughts on “Living in Minneapolis & Still Awkward

  1. Pingback: #CaturdaySaturday– When You’re a (Cat Lady) Fraud | written with flair

  2. Pingback: Anotha Year, Yo! | written with flair

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