Honestly

I have a long, long list of things to be thankful for. I really do. Somehow, in a world of billions of people, I ended up exactly here, with all the blessings that I have, and if that doesn't make someone believe in a higher power, well, I don't know what would. Material things. People. Wisdom ... So many blessings. Today I want to focus on honesty, the double edged sword that it is, because without it (and the wisdom to recognize it) we would all be floundering in the lies we create and perpetuate, pretending to not know the difference.

Honesty hurts. It does.

Honesty is telling someone when they've hurt you, or when you've hurt them, even though the telling of it might kill you.

Honesty is looking at yourself and the gaping holes that exist in your heart and knowing to do something about them, even though changing is a painful process.

Honesty is realizing that some people aren't meant to stay in your life forever, and that the past sometimes ought to remain there, even though you miss them with every breath.

Honesty is seeing the heart in a person, even when their actions speak otherwise.

Honesty is letting others see you for you, without pretentions, even though their view of you may be tarnished.

Honesty is asking for help when you need it, even when you really, really don't want to. Even though you still think it is a weakness. Even though you suck at it. And it's letting yourself be helped.

Honesty is the look in the eyes of someone you love when you first see them in the morning, before they put their walls up and the world tells them how to act. Even when your makeup is smeared and your hair a tangled mess, they still think the sun shines out your ass (forgive the vulgarity) and are happy to see you.

Honestly, this past weekend has made me realize all of these things, with more clarity than I have before. I finally feel like I can let go of some skeletons in the closet; move on to bigger and better things. And that, honestly, is the best blessing I could have asked for.

Schweppes

The brotha and I have a rather unhealthy obsession with Schweppes.

Of course we had to do an obligatory photo shoot in front of our garage. 

Thanksgiving break, you are so good.

There are a lot of things that I love about Thanksgiving. Let's start with the obvious: food.

Turkey
Filling / Stuffing (whatever your heart desires)
Green Beans
um, Gravy (favorite)
Pie (second favorite)

Just looking at that list is making me hungry.
I cannot wait to make my own Thanksgiving dinner for my own imaginary family someday.
Like, I have the meal all planned out already. Psychotic? Possibly. I'm not ashamed.

Also, football. So much football.
And poking my dad when he falls asleep watching football, so that he spazzes violently and sputters angry things.
Life's little joys.

But more than all these things I love being home and being around the people I care about, even if it is only for a few days. Being away from them for weeks or months at a time makes me appreciate them all the more.

So God, thank you for my family and friends and the time I get to spend with them this week. You've given me a lot to be thankful for this year, more than I could have ever hoped for. (And thank you for the food. Good food is hard to find at college.) 
Love, me

mustache

My widdle brotha came to visit last night.

He's a goofball.

we added to the mustache lightswitch. it now has a speech bubble that reads:

"In case of emergency, mustache can be used as a floatation device"

we are, by far, the coolest kids I know.

I gave myself bangs today.

Really bad idea.

Hopefully not irreversable.

Hormones and scissors are not a compatible pair.

And I should probably give up on the idea of looking like Zooey Deschanel.

Friday, you're killing me.

Flannel and Penguins

On Tuesday I met up with my Juliefriend and we went adventuring! It's been a while since we've gone, what with the annoyance of classes and all, but it is one of those things in life worth waiting for.

We spent far too much time in Whole Foods. Then again, it must be impossible to walk in and out of there efficiently. Every which way there is something more exotic and exciting. Organic vegetarian dog biscuits? Botanical supplements? The world's most amazing pico de gallo? I spent a solid five minutes staring at the pineapples under florescant lights - suddenly it seemed imperative that at least one come home with me. Oh, and the best part? It was a free sample day. Yeah. Boo yah. (Boo ya? spelling?)

Oh, and the second best part is this guy:

I wanted him real bad.
(I seem to have a fixation with stuffed animals lately?)
(Also excuse the super weird face I'm making. I swear it just does that on its own sometimes. Rude.)

The Juliefriend and I also had a lovely debate about people who wear flannel because it has recently become fashionable, despite having never worn it before. As two girls from the middle-of-nowhere Pennsylvania who grew up in flannel, we had an awful lot to laugh about. (Anyone else find this amusing?) I have no pictures of Jule, sadly, because she and my camera dislike each other. And by that I mean that it loves her, but every time it appears she makes such an angry face that no pictures of her get taken. As a classically unphotogenic person (which she is not, just saying), I totally get that. But as the person behind the camera, disappointing.

And all this loveliness came about because my class got cancelled that day. The third one this week! As far as weeks go, this one has been pretty stellar.

"Now remember, if you do go to Oregon, good. Good for you. But do it now. Don't wait til you're 40 and have two kids and are fat. Go now."


Words of wisdom from the Cowboy.

Chickens and Cowboys

This chicken and I were obviously mean to be best friends. We spent all morning sitting at opposing tables at the show, staring each other down. At first, it was slightly creepy, those beady glass eyes constantly fixed on me. A few hours later, though, we got comfortable with each other, and instead of despising his glare, I came to welcome it. We got on, that rooster and I. We got on well.

And at the end of the day, I found out he was going to be auctioned off, as part of a fundaiser for the Catskill Fly Fishing Museum, and my heart was set on taking him home. Set. We had to sit through the duration of the pre-auction dinner and pre-auction, post-dinner small talk, which at first seemed like ten kinds of torture, but the more we sat and waited (and sat and waited!), the more I began to appreciate the people around us.

To our right was an ex-Marine, who told us about his experiences in the service and with his sons in Boy Scouts. To our left was an ex-hippy, who lit up when I told him about my plans to move to Oregon after graduation. His nickname was Cowboy, and he was one of the originals from the 70's, the kind who knows everything that's been done before. Like my dad, he may think the idea is a little crazy, but he also believes that these are the kind of things you should do while you're young.

There was free wine provided with the meal, and as time went on, and more wine was passed around, the jokes became freer and the laughter louder. Cowboy drew a picture of me on his paper plate. The Marine shared his favorite foil-packet recipies. And then the auction began.

The Northeast is full of old money, and fishing shows are even more so: you'll see people spend more money than you think possible on things that no one in their right mind would spend money on. Small wonder, then, that when the chicken came to its turn, someone paid a whopping $260 for it, which was about two hundred more than my dad was willing to pay. I tried, though. Believe me, I tried.

So, we left without the chicken, but we got hours of laughs from the Marine and from Cowboy, and from the other intoxicated auction-goers. And I got my picture with the chicken.

(As I write this, my father and I are sitting in the hotel room, watching American Hoggers, which may be the best show I've never heard of. Hog hunting in Texas on a reality show? Right up my dad's alley. A monster has been created.  "Word is, the hogs are gettin' pretty damn near knee deep up in them parts" ... do people actually talk like that? )

Portland vs. Danbury

I will not be in Portland this weekend. Nor will I be there any time soon. But I want to be. Oh, how badly I want to be. I've been in love with Oregon for ages now, but haven't been there for four years, which is four years too long, in my opinion. Still, I can remember exactly the way certain places look, how they feel, and just how lush and overgrown and green and majestic it all was, and my entire body aches to be back there, standing in deep forests and on high cliffs above a raging ocean.

I have a plan to get out there. Well, two plans really. The first involves two good friends and a possibly insane plot to pay off our student loans in record time. It's going to involve a garden and a TLC show, called "Surrogates and Sustainability," and each of us will probably need a therapist afterwards but we're going to be out of debt and living in a place that suits us more than any other, probably. We've spent a lot of time looking at real estate in the last week or so. Addicting. And the other plan? Well, that's a secret for now. Give it time though.

So many plans are buzzing around in my head that I hardly have time for them all lately. I'm busy, happy, productive, on my A Game, all the above. I need more than 24 hours in a day.

Today, as soon as work is over, I'm off to Danbury, Conneticut with my dad, tagging along at his book show, meeting a million fascinating people and seeing a town I've never experienced. Sometimes you need to get away, to see new places and new faces and new things, to get new inspiration. I fully expect to be doing a lot of writing and picture taking this weekend, and it's going to be glorious.

Happy Friday :)

Scheduling Conflicts

Today, I registered for my last semester of classes. My last semester ever.

I didn't want to give the registrar my course form. I'd had it balled up in my pocket all morning, and as I uncrumpled it and smoothed the edges to hand it to her, this little ball of trepidation I'd had inside my stomach crumpled and tightened, like one of those vacuum-sealed bags. As I handed it to her, I was so scared.

My last semester.

I've spent the last four years knowing exactly what I needed to do; to get through the week; the month; the semester. What I needed to take next to fulfill the looming requirements that were always unattainable. Graduation was a word with no context, no meaning. It was something that would never happen, not to me. But lately it's becoming real, and today, knowing that I have decided, for the last time ... well, that's weird. As usual, my schedule is overloaded and required approval. As usual, I've too many classes and ambitions and probably won't be sleeping much. But I know that's how I work best, and I'm okay with it. The complaining and occasional tearing up? It's all part of the routine. I thrive under pressure and I know it; get bored without it. I need to be constantly on the go. And that's been my life, and so soon it'll be changing. I won't have that clear-cut sense of direction anymore, that path of things I need to do to get where I'm going, because I no longer know where I'm going. After May my life, more than ever, will be entirely in God's hands, rather than my own. And that's how it ought to be.

It's a scary thing, letting go. But it is time.

There are so many options for me after May, so many opportunities, so many dreams to be chased. What right do I have to be afraid, instead of gut-tingling excited? The answer is none. No right at all.

Halloweekend

It's been a hot second you guys, hasn't it?

A hot second.

Except no, not really, because it's been cold here lately. Really cold. So cold that we got over 6 inches of snow on Halloween. Halloween! And they say global warming isn't real.

Halloween was a blast though, the roomie was Cruella DeVille and I got to play around with her hair and crazy amounts of mousse for a while. I didn't really have a costume myself so I put on my leopard print shirt and gave myself whiskers. Lamest costume award ever goes to me. I know. But we went to our sorority's Halloween party and ended up having a lot of fun with the girls, dancing like crazy people.