Letters II

Dear senior year, 
Where have you gone? I distinctly remember moving in yesterday, and now we only have 59 days left together until the g-word.


Dear roommate, 
I freaking love you. Thank you for being the best person to live with, for forgiving my early morning grumbling and falling into everything, for taking dorky piano pictures with me every year, for sharing your poptarts with me, and for letting me play with your hair. 

Dear A,
I love you. I love how we can't smile at the same time, and how excited you were about your tie, and that you danced with me even though you hate dancing. 

Dear Mucinex,
You are advertised as making "coughs more productive." I can personally attest that you do in fact perform that function. Instead of just coughing, I sounded like I had a hairball or something equally vile in the middle of the dance floor. Sexy. 


Dear friends and sisters,
You have made my senior year as amazing as I'd hoped it would be. Although every second hasn't been perfect, being with with you has made it the best year yet. 

Dear blisters,
You were worth it.






Love,
Emily

Friday Confessions

via

1. I spelled "confessions" wrong three different ways before getting it right. Fine liberal arts education at work, right here.

2. The guys I work with make me so happy. I'm a little on the sick side of things, still, so they've been doing their best to cheer me up. Funny stories, pictures of their kids, stopping by my office to chat - they're the best.

3. Sometimes I like to do the Single Ladies dance while I brush my teeth. Seriously. You should try it. It's a perfect energy boost in the morning. It means, too, that I get toothpaste everywhere in the bathroom - mirror, sink, walls, usually my shirt. It's worth it. Woah oh oh, oh oh oh oh oh.

4. I've been too lazy to do wash all week, so I've been recycling clothes out of my hamper. Gross.

5. After a lot of personal introspection and agonizing, I went and bought a new dress for the ball tonight. Clearly, I am a very bad person with no morals or capacity for saving. Shame.

6. Had I spent the amount of time I've spent on Pinterest this week actually doing work, I could have researched and written several full-length papers. If I included the time I've spent looking at apartments, I probably could have written a thesis paper.

7. Instead of spending $8 to get my car washed, I've been wiping it down with Armor-All wipes. Really, it does work. Mostly.

8. I yelled at a kid in class the other day. To be fair, he was making insanely asinine comments. It's not my fault that dumb things come out of his mouth every time he opens it. If you're not going to do the work, be narrow-minded, and regurgitate mantras for movements that you don't understand, you have what's coming to you.

9. Sometimes I get jealous. There's a girl in A's class that used to like him a long time ago, and since it's a senior seminar class with only nine people, he has to do work with her on a regular basis. Deep down I know there's no reason to be worried, but that green monster comes out sometimes anyway: She's pretty. She's athletic. She's doing work with him. She has really nice clothes. Those things sound stupid, but they can take root nevertheless.

10. Two of the things I'm most looking forward to about getting an apartment with my best friend: sharing clothes, and getting a cat. I'm basically set up for life as a crazy cat woman.

Guys, it's been a really weird week. I'm beyond ready to let it go, move on, and do some serious Cupid Shuffling tonight.



What are your Friday confessions?

this isn't breaking news or anything

But I'm sort of having a dress crisis. 


My school has this fantastic dance every spring, the whole student body is invited, it's at a fancy hotel in Philly, there are hors d'oervres (or something like that), and the thing is only five bucks. WINNING.


I've convinced A to go, all my best friends are going, I have new shoes to wear ... and no dress.


Well, okay. I have a dress. I have two dresses. But one of them I'm planning on wearing to my sorority's formal next month, and the other is a lot little too short, and slightly boob-tastic. 

I can't be the only person in the world who's had to deal with this.


#first world college problems

thinking green

A and I started watching The Hulk the other night. Not the old version, but the new version (newish?) with Edward Norton.


Holy cheese balls, I love that man. The muscles, the half smile, the side swept hair .... oh, Edward.

Wait, you thought I was talking about A? 


Oops. 


The sad fact of the matter is that when he suggested we watch The Hulk instead of my suggestion (chick flick), I whole-heartedly agreed because I think Edward is the cat's whiskers. 


We didn't get to finish the movie; neither of us can stay up much past midnight on a week day (old people), so tonight I will be reunited with my beloved Edward  cuddling with A (who also happen to be a pretty fantastic hunk of man) and listening to his excited yelling every time something blows up. 


Lucky for me, this happens quite often. 

view of a Monday

Because I'm too lazy to wear big girl clothes today

Downing these suckers like it's my job, since my body decided I should get allergies

for the first time in 22 years

Awesome sauce.

Best at home, non-damaging whitening product I've found yet

I obviously own too much makeup

Note from A in class perfectly describing my current scholarly situation

My body still hurts from all those dance rehearsals and trying dougie like I'm not a white girl on Saturday night, so my workout today is some Pandora dance station and rocking around my room like Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Not embarrassing at all.

A likes to leave me notes in my binders, especially when we're sitting next to each other in class. He's done it ever since the fall, before I even really knew him. Every one of them makes me smile, and some make me laugh aloud. He is such a fantastic human being.

Hope everyone's week is off to a grand start!

Choreography

My sisters and I (7th from the left)

My school has a tradition - every spring for the past 29 years, they hold a contest called Airband, where different groups create dances which are then judged in categories: most creative, best costumes, best choreography, best overall, etc.

Over spring break, one of my sisters roped me into joining our sorority's act, which was a Charlie's Angels spin-off. Three angels, bad guys, policemen, a party scene - we had it all. Being a part of the creative process and the physical act of dancing and having so much fun with my sisters, although time consuming, was one the best experiences I've had this semester. We've been practicing pretty much every night for the last two weeks, and last night our hard work paid off!

Waiting to go onstage, being behind the was terrifying. The audience looked huge and the room cavernous. We hadn't anticipated so many people. Everyone was looking pale and complaining of nausea, including myself. I used to take dance lessons, but I haven't been on stage in a long time, so my nerves were fully engaged, every single one of them.  By the time we finished our dance party segment, I realized that my knees were shaking, and I had stopped breathing almost entirely. It felt amazing.

When it was time for the awards to be announced, all of us leaned forward, scarcely breathing in anticipation. Most creative, best costume: both went to other groups. Then the MC announced it: "best choreography goes to ... Tri Sigma!"

 We screamed so loudly, the auditorium was reverberating. Second place! 

Our elation was huge. 

Letters

I've seen this idea floating around in a bunch of different places, and I think it's great. All the little things we should say on a daily basis but don't, for a million different reasons. Why is that, really? Why don't we take the time to say what we really feel? Is is fear, or a polite sense of decorum? There's a thin line between the two, I think. One that I haven't yet learned how to tread. 

Dear weather,
I love you. Thank you for making it spring, so I could go get free Rita's.

Dear A,
I wish I had the words to tell you how special you are to me. You make every day a million times better. Just seeing you makes me smile. I forgive you for hitting me in the face with a football yesterday. And that bug bite that's making your right eye swell shut ... well, you look like a pirate. Just saying.

Dear cleaning lady,
Seriously, what do you do? Because it isn't clean. Our house is just as dirty as when you got here, like, six hours ago.

Dear little,
You light up my life with your persistent joy and constant picture taking. The powers that be knew exactly what they were doing when they put us together. 

Dear professor(s) whose work I've been avoiding all semester,
... Sorry. Please don't hate me. I'm a senior. 

Dear all of my sisters,
You're all crazy. All 55 of us, we have some serious issues. And sometimes those come to a head and things get real messy. But we work through it, and get back to the way things should be, and that goes a long way towards restoring my faith in people. I love you all. 

Dear (biological) brother,
I love that all I have to do is text you one line of lyrics from "Africa" by Toto and we'll text sing the entire song. It was rough for a few years, but you turned out to be a pretty cool kid after all. 


If you were to write a letter to the people in your life, what would you tell them?

that time I fell off a stationary bike

I got up at 6:45 to go to the gym this morning. At least, my alarm went off. I laid in bed until 7, trying to decide whether or not to get up. Finally, my smarter self told my lazy-ass self to "Just do it!" ... and I went.


Man, did it feel good. 


I would have stayed there for another hour if I could have, but 8:35 classes don't leave much time for anything in the mornings. 


And I may have fallen off the stationary bike (a feat I didn't think was humanly possible - thank God there were only two older men in the entire gym), but I will be back there tomorrow. I've worked too hard on being healthy to waste it.

wishful thinking

Is it me, or did this weekend feel like summer? 


We threw all the windows open to get out the dusty smell of winter; let the cool breeze in. It was the perfect temperature, just enough for flip flops and ripped jeans again. 

Pink nails, sunshine, sun roof open, favorite song on the radio. We drove just because we liked the warm wind and letting our arms wave up and down out the windows. I'm imagining long days and freckles and sundresses against a backdrop of crashing waves and seagulls.

What makes you feel like summer?

the principles behind a squash

via

I had principles for lunch today, and they taste like butternut squash.

You guys, I am having a hard time with this vegetarian thing. I love vegetables. Seriously love them. My parents always had a garden when I was growing up, and I spent a lot of summer mornings outside with my dad, eating more than weeding, but learning nonetheless. Spending that time gave me an appreciation for things that came from the earth, and for the feeling of caring for something myself, and ultimately reaping the benefits. So I don't dislike healthy things - I really, really love them, and I feel great when I eat them.

BUT. (you knew it was coming). This stupid squash. Why am I eating this?

I just really want some hot wings, okay? Or a good steak. Or ribs covered in barbeque sauce. Or an entire rotissere chicken. I'm not desperate.

I've been giving it a lot of thought based on things I've been reading online and in class, and via some good old-fashioned introspection. It's not the idea of eating meat that I mind. Not at all. We raised steers, pigs, and chickens in addition to our garden, and my dad would bring a deer back every fall. I worked in the deli section of a grocery store. I know where meat comes from. I don't have any delusions or princess ideas about it.

So here's the conclusion I've come to: if I can find good, healthy, humanely raised and killed meat, I will eat it. In small portions. And I will enjoy it. But I refuse to support an agricultural system that forces chemicals and God-knows-what-else into our foods and bodies. 

Our system - there's just so much wrong with it. So many faults. So many consumer ignorances that are happening and things we don't control. It would take pages and pages to even scratch the surface of the problem. It makes me so angry. I don't know what I can do about it right now. I'm still learning. But I will not put bad things in my body to the extent that I have power over ... And that's why I ate squash for lunch.

Just for the record, that bad stuff is in our vegetables too. Our fruit. Our grains. But in smaller portions. When you eat meat, you're eating an animal that has consumed all of those chemicals in its own feed. You're eating a collection of all those chemicals: biomagnification. And it collects in our bodies too. So when in doubt, and when it's affordable, I try to buy organic everything else too. I'm a college student. Money isn't the easiest thing to come by these days.

Disclaimer: I am not a doctor. I don't claim to know a lot about the body or biological processes. But I know what I've read and what I believe. Being the kind of person that needs to have solid convictions - these are mine.  

dear basketball, you suck

I filled out a March Madness bracket today.
Scratch that. I filled out two.


It wasn't my choice - A made me. And by "made me," I mean that he logged onto my computer, signed me into his friends' group, opened a bracket, and yelled names of teams at me until I picked one. It went a little something like this:


A: Okay. Ready? This one or that one?
Me: Um, that one.
A. HA. Really? You really think so?
Me: Maybe
A: You're wrong.
Me: Um, okay. The other one then.
A: You can't pick based on what I say!
Me: But I don't know anything! I don't even know where half of these are!
A: Just pick one!
Me: Okay, the blue one.
A: Wrong! Try again. 
Me: (wailing at this point) But I don't knowww!
A: Just pick!
ME: I CAN'T!


Somehow we managed to fill out two whole brackets without a fistfight breaking out (it was close, mind you). And then A kissed me and ran off to class, shouting "I'll see you in two weeks, babe!" 


Needless to say, when UNC or whichever other team I picked (it was a lot of pressure, don't judge) wins this stupid thing, who's gonna be celebrating? That's right. Me.


I really hate that stupid sport.  

Needtobreathe

RIP, beloved H&M white pants

Has anyone else ever heard of Needtobreathe? 


They are probably my favorite band in the entire world. My dad and I went to see them at MusikFest this past summer, and they were just as good live as they are in the studio (which to me makes them a hundred times more talented and better). I also happen to have the world's biggest crush on the lead singer, Bear, but that's neither here nor there, really.

Anyway, they have the most amazing lyrics - their songs are always about pure, beautiful things. Things that actually mean something. They remind me that not all music is about sex, and getting high, and making money. It can be about better things, a better life. These lyrics are from the song "Keep Your Eyes Open," off their latest album. 

Don't let the night become the day

Don't take the darkness to the grave

I know pain is just a place

Where the will has been broken

Don't let the fear become the hate

Don't take the sadness to the grave

I know the fight is on the way

When the sides have been chosen

Cause if you never leave home, never let go

You'll never make it to the great unknown

Open up your eyes, keep your eyes open

Try to listen to that voice and not fall in love. I dare you. Bear, if things ever don't work out with what's-her-name ... you know where to find me. 

I can't help it

via

I can't help it that this gorgeous weather is making me want to jump ship and head west.

I only have less than two months left anyway ...

I keep asking myself if they really matter, anyway.

Mentally, I've been gone for ages.

For all intents and purposes, I'm usually not here anyway. My body may be in a dorm room, trying to digest social policy and international economics, but my thoughts are in some far-flung place. Sometimes Scotland. Sometimes Paris or Italy again. Sometimes the west coast, or South America, or the tropics. Somewhere I've never been; somewhere fascinating and stimulating, with new sights and smells and things to touch. I get bored too easily; need change to keep me interested. To keep me going.

Many things will be changing soon. But in many ways, things will still be the same. And at the moment, even thinking about it makes my insides feel claustrophobic.

via

eos

We're standing in the aisle at Target, staring at the vast selection before us.

"What do you think?" A asks me. "Should we do it?"
"Hmmmm," I reply thoughtfully. "It does seem like a lot. And even if we did, which one?"
"Should we splurge? Should we do it?" A is having a difficult time. We both are.
But it's only an act. We both know what's going to happen, so finally A takes the plunge.
Reaches his hand out, wraps it around a green one, retracts it.
We stare at the package in his hand.
Honeysuckle Honeydew.
It's a light, crisp green. Egg shaped to fit a hand perfectly.
We're already in love.
In the car we rush to open it.
Try it.
Perfection.

It's official, according to A and I: EOS is the best lip balm you will find anywhere.
If you haven't bought one of these yet: I'm serious. Do it. Do it now.
95% organic, 100% natural. And in my opinion, 100% worth the extra cost.
Also it helps that they look like beautiful little Easter eggs.

I've had mine (Summer Fruit flavor) since Christmas, so it lasts a long time (and I'm a heavy chapstick user). And that's with A stealing it every chance he got.


Disclaimer: I'm not being endorsed in any way to talk about this. Heck, I wish I was. I will gladly take free samples or cash donations to continue pursuing my addiction scientific analysis of these wonderful things.

Eos has a whole line of flavors, with more due to make an appearance on shelves soon. You can bet that when they do, A and I will be there, making more life-changing decisions. It is our dream to have an entire medicine cabinet shelf dedicated to them. Arranged by color.

Someday.

sunflower

I got back to school tonight and A was waiting for me, with this in hand:

He is such a goober, and I like him so very much.
Beer bottle and all.
He saw that flower and thought of me, and knew that it would make me happy.
And to me that means more than the biggest arrangement in the world. 

6 am

This morning we got up at what the roomie likes to call "the buttcrack of dawn."
Aka, six am.
We wanted to see the sunrise over the beach, so we stumbled out of bed,
wrapped blankets around ourselves, and jumped into Walter, my trusty automobile.
We were stuck behind the world's slowest minivan, careening around the bends of the park road at a rousing 20 mph. 
Those of you who know know anything about me know that one of the things I detest in the world is an obnoxiously slow driver.
I may have been yelling some mildly inappropriate things. Mildly.
So we didn't get to see the sun rise at the beach, but we got there soon after,
and got some pretty pictures anyway.


No thanks to you, minivan dude. Or dudette.

Also, if you'll notice, there's a new tab at the top! It's called "Love Story" - revolutionary, I know. So for anyone who wants the lowdown on A and why he's so fantastic, or just needs to waste ten minutes of their time - it's there. It's pretty cool. You should read it.

yes

Yes, I am on vacation.
Yes, I am taking a bajillion pictures.
And editing them. It's not an obsession.
No, my friends are not getting tired of me shrieking and pulling over the car to take more pictures (*healthy does of sarcasm*)
Yes, we have eaten in a yellow submarine themed restaurant, complete with painted portholes and fishy scenes.
Yes, we have colored in coloring books and painted our nails and watched the fiasco at our neighbor's house when he got carted away by an ambulance late at night (not strange at all).
Yes, we have visited the Island Creamery (one of the only restaurant open in the off-season), and contemplated visiting a million more times.
Yes, we have named every single pony we've seen. And every heron. And sand piper.
Yes, we have stayed up too late and eaten too much ice cream and waited patiently for it to stop snowing and the sun to come out.


And it has. 


Beach day numero uno, commence.

even on vacation I can't sleep late

So I said I would be gone for a while - and I will!

But I couldn't resist saying something about how amazing this place is.


How much I love the quiet, the rain, the cranes hunting in the marsh grass across the road,
the smell of salt water, the whirlpool bathtub (you best bet I'll be making use of that later),
the chance to see ponies later, and being here with my friends.


Being the first one awake in the morning has its perks, 
fresh cups of tea and being able to open all the shades to see the bay.


Last night, falling asleep, I couldn't stop thinking of how lucky I am. 

making the roomie pose for me

I missed pancake day

... which is funny, because I celebrated it twice last year
(you can read about that here and here)

Me: HOW DID WE MISS FREE PANCAKE DAY AT IHOP???

A: Lmao, I knew about it :p

Me: Gah! You knew??

A: Yeah we did a problem in managerial about it

Me: This may be a dealbreaker :p can we pleeeeeeese go next year???

A: Haha :) yeahhhh didn't know you'd wanna go!

Me: If I could have an IV attached to me that constantly fed me pancakes I would be all over that in a hot second

not even kidding.

I'm spending the next week in Chincoteague Island in Virginia for spring break.
You know, where they do the pony swim every year in July.
No big deal. It's probably going to be the best week ever.

meet rodney, and how to give a proper handhug

One of my sweet, sweet friends made this for me for my birthday; how fantastic is he?
I've been hiding in the library writing papers lately, so I finally just got to see her, and she surprised me with him!
I immediately named him Rodney because ...
well, because I have to name everything.

My car's name is Walter - he's a grumpy old man.
My spider plant is named Robert Plant - yes, after the lead singer of Led Zepplin.
Most of my friends have nicknames.
A has several.
Surprisingly, I haven't named my camera or laptop yet. But it's coming.

Have you guys heard of handhugs?? They're the new best thing.
Exhibit A:

It's like the new fist bump, but much more affectionate.

Unless you do it wrong - so don't! There is a very specific way to give a good handhug,

and so many ways to give  a bad one.

Also - from experience - make sure the other person knows what's coming.

Things get awkward pretty fast.

This high school article tells you the origins of the handhug, and how to give a proper one.

It's very serious business.