SAVAGE

SAVAGE1 {adjective}: An act that is either cool or hardcore, going beyond the normal scope of the given situation.
2 {noun}: A person who often displays savage behaviour according to the above definition – Urban Dictionary 
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(For the kids reading this, that’s Ben and Fred Savage)

I love new slang especially when it gets archaic. Savage is being used a lot these days it’s even the name of post-trap rapper, 21 Savage. Pause. I like 21 Savage’s music and I judge myself for it everyday so you don’t have to. It’s like, the more ignorant the better.

Anyway, the term is also used to describe someone who gives no f*cks.  Rihanna uses it to describe herself to a man who confuses sex with love in, Needed Me.  It can also be used to describe a man eater (Female) or womanizer (Male). Feminist side note: why does a promiscuous man have a cool/smooth sounding name and a promiscuous woman is called something so…savage? 

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So last week my boss scheduled a meeting with me or a ‘sync’ as we cool business people call it. I thought it just going to be to touch bases about new work but it was to tell me I got a raise. Not a real raise but the shitty 3-4% ‘raise’ they give everyone for doing the bare minimum at their job, you know, showing up. And I as excited as I was about this ‘raise’, I immediately (while I was in the meeting) asked my friend in HR if these ‘raises’ were negotiable. She said yes, but then I thought about how arguing for a raise, getting it, and then leaving this job for my dream writing gig in a few short months, would be kind of f*cked up. But you know who wouldn’t think that was f*cked up? A man, because when it comes to getting the respect, appreciation, and compensation that they deserve, men are savages.

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‘Adult’ Parties

Whenever I go to a house party in LA I feel like I’ve been transported back in time to college, many, many, many years ago, circa 2005. We still talk about what we wanna be when we grow up, who we have a crush on, and drink Fireball straight up. College was like our model for how parties should look. It’s not like we learn a new way to party as an adult. I mean, we can pretend to party like adults by mimicking what we see on TV, films, and Pintrest. You know, charcuterie plates, wine, indie music, and adult conversations (i.e. who are you dating?, do you like your new job?, etc.) . But somehow, some way, the night always ends with pizza and flip cup.

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And there are a few people you always encounter at these ‘adult’ parties:
The Girl Who Gets Too Drunk – She’s like a pit bull off her leash and we have no idea what she’s gonna do next. One thing we do know, she will wake up the next day with many regrets.
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The Guy Who Stands Against A Wall The Whole Night And Sips His Drink – Who is this guy? Who invited him? Did he come alone? Why? Maybe some girl invited him and he thought they were gonna hang out, but she’s wasted, and dancing with some other guy…
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The Dancers – The 2-4 people who start dancing that people make a circle around. The onlookers take pics and video to add to their Snap and Insta-stories to validate how ‘Lit’ the party was.
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The People Making Out – Maybe they’re a couple or maybe they just met at the party. Either way, they’re drunk enough to not care about anyone watching.
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The Owner Of The House – They’re pretending to have fun but are secretly hoping everyone magically disappears before the neighbors call the cops.
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The Clique – The girls or guys who stay in their friend group the whole night and don’t branch out.
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Which category do I fall in, you ask?
The Introvert – The person who walks around, talks to only people they know, checks their phone a million times, has a drink or two, and finds a place to sit and observe. They do all of this within 35 minutes and are ready to go because they’ve met their social interaction quota for the day. They Irish exit the party because saying good bye gives them even more social anxiety. They need to go home to be alone and recharge so they can do it all again at the next party.
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Momentum.

I write this post today from my bed on Friday at 930am. I’m on a staycation BIT*HES! And it’s the best time to be writing in bed because a storm is brewing so it’s cold and gloomy outside. The perfect environment for a long day of writing. I wish I could get a day like this every week. This setting, this mood. Just once a week be able to write for a whole day. Finish something, God I just want to finish something! All these projects left undone is making me feel undone.

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Momentum, that’s always been an issue for me. It’s like something good happens and instead of letting that propel me to do more, work harder, I decide to take a break, pretend like I can pause and celebrate my tiny victory. When I should be going harder than ever because the next win won’t be as easy, you’re going to need to stretch yourself even farther in order to get to the next level.

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Momentum effects every area of your life; love, career, wanting to finish errands but instead going home for a nap, which is what inspired this post. I had a ton of errands to do on Saturday and an event or two to attend and I started to get tired and feel like all these tiny errands weren’t amounting to anything. I felt like I needed to go home and rest and perhaps put things off till tomorrow. But when I got home and realized how much I had to do my mind wouldn’t let me rest.  It’s a gift and a curse. I’m always doing something but I’m not really doing anything at all. It’s all a distraction. A distraction from doing exactly what I should be doing, writing.
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