weekend in pictures

It was a very Sigma-intense and emotionally draining weekend. Formal, eating until I felt sick, saying goodbye to my fellow seniors, and willing down most of our Sigma stuff ... I'm dead. Or, I would be, but I have my capstone paper due tomorrow that I have to start work on. And it's already 12:30. 


Help me guys, send some motivation my way. 
I'm begging you.

stuffing my face - note the napkin bib.

big, little, and I

A came to see us off for formal :)

on free souls

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Freshman year of college, I made a really good friend.

Well, nix that. We were friends, yes. But he is muscle-y and hugely intelligent and has an Eastern European accent and a deep love for photography and words, and so of course I was immediately head-over-everything in love obsessed with him. Don't act like you would have done anything less. In hindsight, I was probably kind of creepy about it, actually. Do you ever look back at yourself and cringe? It's been happening with alarming frequency lately.

But anyway, so we were friends, and we would watch movies together and share books and smile in passing on campus, and I thought it was really cool that I had a secret friend who I was hanging out with stalking. As creepy as I make it sound though, it was less of that and more of a friendship where your soul meets someone with a similar kind of soul and immediately recognizes it. But when you're 18, you don't know these things. My friend Julie and I gave him a code name: UKK. As in "UKrainian Kid." Original ... and yet we still use it today. Because while we hung out sophomore year in our film photography class and had lots of deep conversations about what life and death mean and whether Charles Bukowski was right about loneliness, we lost track of each other junior year.

I thought he was abroad in the fall (at least that was his plan), and I was in Scotland in spring, and by the fall of this year I didn't think much about him anymore, except for the occasional facebook stalking or email that I would start to write but never send.

So why all this about my unnamed Ukrainian friend with the incredible abs and awesome accent? Because I rediscovered him this winter. As in, I walked into my International Political Economy capstone and there he was, grinning absurdly. Like it hadn't been a year and a half since we'd seen each other, things have gone right back to normal. Except that I'm not obsessed with him anymore; I don't get those stupid weird butterflies every time I see him. Those are reserved for my best friend and the person I care more deeply about than anyone else. Instead, I get a warm happy feeling of recognition that happens when soul meets soul.

There are a lot of friends that I've been blessed to have during college; some that I will keep in touch with after, and some that I love but probably will not remain in touch with forever. And that's okay, you know? Because the older I get, the more convinced I am that people have a time in your life when they shine brightest, and sometimes the memories of that shining  are what you hold onto, not the person themselves. That's how it goes. And I can count on one hand the number of people whose souls and mine have shone together, and I think that's how it's supposed to be, too.

Free souls are a good thing. We may not see each other every year, or email regularly. That's okay. Because if I've learned one thing about it over the last four years, it's that like soul will always recognize like soul, no matter how much time has passed between meetings. It might even be unexpected, but I know that someday I'll walk into a room and there will be that absurd smile again. And I'm okay waiting for that.

“the free soul is rare, but you know it when you see it - basically because you feel good, very good, when you are near or with them.”
― Charles Bukowski, Tales of Ordinary Madness

hey! got any grapes?

Spending the night cranking out papers with a big 'ol bowl of grapes.


I've heard that you shouldn't eat past 8:30, especially when you want to fit into your dress for formal, something about metabolism and other nonsensical things. 


But fruit doesn't count, right? 


Right.


Aaandddd the girls in the room next to our are having a conversation about who had sex on their bus on the way to their sorority's formal. It's so strange to me, that less than 20 feet away from me is a room full of people who live an entirely different kind of life, one that I would never consider having. 


One thing about college: it definitely expands your horizons. 


Back to the papers though ... and a full day of work tomorrow. 


Oh, wait! One more thing. I finished the Hunger Games.


I FINISHED THE HUNGER GAMES.


I am about 6 months behind the rest of the world, yes. But I still cried like the rest of you.  


Over and out. 

avacados

Sometimes on the weekends, A and I like to cook dinner, because the food here is pretty terrible. We both try to take care of ourselves and eat healthy stuff, and all the fried things our school makes on the weekends often leaves us feeling pretty sick.


Today, after a unnecessarily long trip to Wegman's and an intense argument discussion regarding sauces in the pasta aisle, we ended up making fettuccine alfredo, with an avacado on the side. 


Yes, it's weird.


Anyway, so we got to talking about how cool it would be to have an avocado tree someday, and the almighty Google revealed that it can be done! Save those seeds! So we saved ours, and plunked it in water immediately so it wouldn't dehydrate and die. 


Growing an avocado requires suspension from the lid of a cup or jar into water ... but of course I had no toothpicks on hand. We were in a panic. 


So what does A do? He went to Wegman's, bought toothpicks, ran across campus in his sweats at eleven o'clock at night to set up a proper avocado operation, and then ran back to his dorm. 


Reason 1 X billion why I love that kid. 

some things I've learned in the past 24 hours

- Wawa Mac n' Cheese isn't ever nearly as good idea as it seems


- It rarely tastes good re-heated


- If you ask a drunk old man to take a picture of you and your friends at an inaugural ceremony, it will look a little something like this:

(poor guy couldn't find "the viewfinder" ... and now there's beer smell all over my camera from him pressing his face against the screen, trying to see )


- I cannot stay out until 2 am anymore. When did I get so old?


- Even for a guy who hates dancing, a live jazz band and myspace shots are sure to make him smile 

- 90's candy is still the best candy

(please note the long lollypops, rock candy in the background, and button dot candy on paper rolls)


- Drunk professors make the best dance partners.






The End. 

we got all dressed up ...

... for our research presentations yesterday.

Afterwards, we got to shake hands with the president of Ursinus,  Bobby Fong (affectionately known as "BoFo"), who showed up randomly to the presentations (and gave all of us heart palpatations because he actually came to ours), and had lunch with him and some of the others in our research groups.

I got to shake the president's hand .... me. I may never wash it again. Except not, because that's kind of gross.

I was super proud of me and my handsome dude for all the hard work and late nights put into these projects. And doesn't he look good in a tie?

Such a cheese.

Before and After

Despite the $50,000 in tuition costs for this glorious institution I am privileged to attend, there is still no air conditioning being turned on. And so my roommate and I are sitting in our room, both shirtless, in our matching purple bras from Target, drinking copious amounts of water, and - pardon the expression - sweating our balls off. 


I took my friend Katie's graduation pictures today. And my roommate and our friend Jessie came along, and it turned into an extended photo session for all of us.


This is my friend Jessie! My favorite picture of her, before editing and after, via picmonkey. She's just naturally photogenic, so it was a complete joy taking her pictures. 

The before:

And after:

I am so, so grateful for these friends of mine, who let me pursue my creativity and love walking around sun-lit fields barefoot just as much as I do. 

I planted 53 trees today

No, but seriously. 


My environmental capstone class got a grant for several thousand dollars for the work we've been doing all year to create a land management plan for a park near our school. 


So I spent my Sunday morning tramping around in rain boots, planting trees and staking them and putting on tree tubes and watering them with some of my best friends.


And after five hours of this we were beyond the point of exhaustion, and dehydrated, and possibly delirious, but at the same time so incredibly proud of what we'd managed to do.


Oh yeah, and we made the local paper for it. Nbd. 


Yesterday the brotha and I had a bro day, in which we bought matching salmon pants and fruit smoothies and took hipster pictures in the park.


It was divine.

On the way home we stopped to surprise my grandmother at her apartment, and obviously to take my pictures.


My family is so sick of me and my camera.

thoughts on coral

Ever whack the space between your knuckles really hard on a really sharp edge of a really hard surface? And then yell "Oy!" really loud, because that's the best non-profane word that you can think of when you're crumpled in pain? And ever have that happen when you were reaching (over)excitedly for food?

Holy guacamole, that hurts.


Anyway. Thoughts on coral? Anybody have some?

It's a warm color so it works well with my skintone, and I firmly believe that the second that gorgeous color is on my body somewhere, I start emitting a goddess-like glow. That is a fact.

In short, I love it. So I bought some today.

Check out that super high-quality phone picture there. Ooohhhh yeah.

Some other coral (or otherwise pink) beauties:

(all images from Pinterest, God bless that site)

Aaaaaand now that I think about it, 2 out of those 3 gorgeous pink things are of the beverage variety. I'm not a drinker, but it's certainly been that kind of a week.  

** I know you were all chomping at the bit to see those hairy men in dresses, but those pictures need editing and tweaking. And good things are worth waiting for. **

I've never done this before ...

.. but tonight I'm participating in a drag show as a model's coach. 


It's just a small thing, a fundraiser for my sorority's foundation, which helps terminally ill children receive play therapy. We have about 17 guys willing to strut their stuff on stage.


The guy I'm coaching is a friend of A's, so we're already friends, and all day I've been getting frantic texts from him:


"Hey coach! Do I have to paint my nails?" (no)


"Hey coach! What if my dress is too short?" (it won't be)


"Hey coach! Do I really have to do this??" (absolutely, yes you do)


"Hey coach! Is my chest too hairy?" (is this something I should know?)


He's terrified, and it's hilarious (I may have made it sound more threatening than it actually is).


So within the next hour, my little pageant queen will be on the catwalk, terrified, while I stand backstage trying to hold back gales of laughter. 


Pictures to follow. So if hairy guys in short dresses is your thing (I won't judge) ...


Stick around. 

"no, we named the monkey Jack"

Me: I got my first loan disbursement paperwork today.
Roommate: Your lungs? What's wrong with your lungs?
Me: My lungs?
Roommate: You said you got your first lung disbursement today?


It's been a strange day, friends. 


You know, the kind of day where weird things come out of your mouth and you fall asleep twice in the library and wake up to your boyfriend poking you in the nose, quite happily.


The kind of day where you've done so much work that by 8 o'clock all that's left to do is rent the fourth Pirates of the Caribbean movie, even though you know it's going to be absolutely terrible.


The kind of day where you only got four or so hours of sleep because you kept remembering more work you had left to do, and needed to get up at six to get more done, and only slept between strange nightmarish segments that you can't quite place in the morning. 


It must be the bronchitis medication. 


As it turns out, one should go to the doctor early on when they are sick, and not assume that it is only allergies. Listen to your body! 

via

I'm not at all impressed with this movie so far ...


At least one can say that Geoffrey Rush is always a charmer. 


(Except Jack is blonde in this movie? What gives?)

ham and chocolate rabbits

As I sit in my office, coughing up gunk and praying that a lung doesn't come up with it, I'm thinking about Easter with my family. Both extended sides of my family, as well as the immediate unit of parentals, brother, and I, are a little ... wonky.

As in disfunctional.  Highly disfunctional.

And there was a lot of really uncomfortable tension yesterday because my dad doesn't get along with my mom's family, and vice versa, and also because of the ham.

I don't eat ham - that's what it means to be a vegetarian. And yes, I have messed up before and eaten things that probably would be considered meat, but I had no intention of doing so yesterday. Which really offended my family. I wasn't impolite about it - made no rude comments or faces, said nothing offensive ... I simply reminded them that although the ham looked delicious, I've decided not to eat meat anymore, but thank you very much anyway.

And that should have been the end of it, but it wasn't. All of them insisted on being personally offended, very loudly, for the next hour.

"Emily, the ham's really good! You should try some."

"Ham is a vegetable, ha ha"

"What's wrong with the ham?"

"You're hurting your grandmother's feelings."

"Here, just eat a little piece."

And then they actually started waving it in my face and trying to make me eat it.

Having the temper that I have, and given the choice of escaping or yelling loudly at my own family, my brother and I opted to escape outside with our candy.

So we sat on the front porch in the sun and talked about how strange people can be, and I said a bunch of prayers under my breath thanking Jesus for coming back and asking him to not let me kill my family. And then I ate too many Sour Patch Kids and got really sick.

The End.

the sweetest thing

Russell Stover Coconut Cream Eggs.


Like manna to a starving college student.


And they're two for a dollar at Wegman's right now.


GET ON THAT. 




A apparently prefers Hershey's Cookies and Cream Bunnies, but he's weird like that. 


Only a boy would think that Hershey's > Russell Stover.


He has so much to learn.

here's another one

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I've been feeling introspective lately (again? ... I know). Every time a big change is coming up, my brain snaps into hyperdrive and I can't stop thinking. All day, all night - it's  a great, huge pain, really, when I ought to be considering things like final papers and do I want a white dress for graduation or a green one and what books I can sell back and how the heck I'm going to cram my great amount of worldly goods into my family's little tiny house.

But you know what I'm thinking about? I'm thinking that I'm nervous. That I'm nervous as hell.

That I might not be enough to make it as an adult. Sure, I can go to work. Sure, I'm good at my job, and I'll be challenged and overcome it, and be challenged again. I can save and pay off bills, make doctor's appointments and floss my teeth and (usually) take out the garbage. I can do that. I can be a fully functioning member of society. A tiny cog in a giant wheel that keeps rolling, uninterested in its miniscule parts. There is someone to fill the void; that's what matters. And I'm wondering this:

Do I want to be a void-filler? Or do I want something more?

Is the function of my life only that? A function? Or do I want to be fulfilled? Happy? And not just happy, but truly happy?

I want more than happy. I want joy. Joy isn't the same as happiness; it isn't fleeting. Happiness comes from sunshine, or puppy kisses, or hugs, or a new dress. Joy is deep-seated. It nestles in the confines of the heart and sticks there, even when sorrow and despair try to root it out. It is patient and enduring. I want joy.

I want to love what I do, and my life, and the people in it. I don't want to sit within the confines of an office wall, dreaming about what I could be doing. I want to be out there, doing them. Enjoying life. Experiencing the sad and the beautiful and the heart-wrenching and the happy sobbing: I want all of that. I want to find ways into foreign places, to direct my money in the direction of the unknown and follow it there in search of adventure, of something new.

I want a full life. One that isn't afraid of the future because of the past. One that won't be easily forgotten in dusty photograph albums, or one that no one cared enough about to show up at the funeral. I want to not say no, to have choices, to help others have choices too. Not to be selfish, not to be secluded, to make myself known in love and spread it to others.

I know we're all trying to find meaning in life. That for everyone, meaning is a little different. What makes one person happy won't fulfill another. And I know I'm not the only one having these thoughts. But if there are answers that have worked for you - share them, will you? I'm feeling a little lost.

Introspection doesn't always last long. Before I know it, I'll be caught up again, and moving forward - whatever that means. But as always, I'm grateful for the moments that allow me to reflect, to have me and God time, to figure out what matters most, and write them down, for when I need reminding.

a note to my typically dramatic self

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I've been thinking about this a lot today.
There are so many things in my life that I thought would be the end.
The end of a life, the end of a relationship, of a friendship, of a chapter in my story, of life as I knew it.
That life afterwards wouldn't be the same, but more importantly, that I would never be able to be as happy as I was before. 


Never. The end. Life after.


They all sound so final, so dramatic, like the flat-lining of a heart monitor. 
But they aren't really, are they? 
Obviously life goes on.


So life after graduation is going to be strange. I'm going to have to get used to another life.  I won't be surrounded by the people I've cared deeply about for four years - at least not on a daily basis. I won't have class or a highly regimented schedule, or easy access to a gym, or student discounts. It will be different. And no, I probably won't like it at first. 


But I will get used to it, and I will love it, and everything will be okay. Even better things are on the way.