On the sunniest, warmest day of last week, my neighbors across the street had their three grandbabies over for a visit. The oldest one is no older than six, the youngest around two, and the third is somewhere in between.
They ran around the driveway, the youngest one obviously anxious to ride the “big boy” bike (which was still a three-wheeler) like his two elder brothers. The oldest, with firey-red hair, held the handlebars and helped him from toppling over.
Later on, two of them went on a walk around the block with their grandma, the middle one staying behind. His grandpa, a man whom I have only witnessed as a parent of teenagers and then adults, took turns pitching and hitting a wiffle ball with his grandson. Hearing his "grandpa voice" - the one that’s light, fun, and encouraging - made me smile. But it was hearing the ball smack against the bat and come bouncing across the street that warmed my heart.
Once upon a time, before my neighbor was a grandpa, he was simply a father of his own three boys. They are all a good ten years older than me; I only ever remember them as teenagers. Back when my brother and I were little balls of energy and spent hours playing outside, they’d occasionally come out and hit the wiffle ball. At first they’d come across the street to get the ball themselves when they hit it, other times we’d stop our own activity to throw it back. But then they did something awesome: they officially invited us to be their outfielders.
We never played for long and I don’t remember it happening more than a few times. Still, it stuck with me. The older kids let us play with them. We were part of their wiffle ball game even though they were in their late teens and we were still under the age of ten. It was the coolest thing ever.
Since then, the boys – now men – have grown up and moved out, one of them sadly passing away much too soon. The oldest one is married and now brings his three rambunctious sons to play in the driveway in which he once swung the bright yellow plastic bat. It's memories like these that make me love suburban life and never want to leave it.
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Thursday, June 10, 2010
oh, paula deen.
If you were wondering what my sophomore year at college was like, it was basically this, except in person - not over Facebook - and on a daily basis.
And I miss it. A lot.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
spring has sprung.
Over the weekend, we had a terrible nor'easter that blew through New Jersey and ripped it to shreds from Friday night through Sunday morning. There were downed trees, live electrical wires, black-outs, and flooding. Lots and lots of flooding. We got really lucky - no power outages, just a boil water notice for a few days after the storm. I'm just glad it wasn't snow.
This week the temperatures are expected to hit sixty and I am beyond thrilled. As I write, the sun is shining and the skies are blue. It's still a little chilly, considering it's only 10:30, but I'll take it. Looking out the window and seeing such beautiful weather energizes me and motivates me to be all sorts of productive.
Daylight savings time snuck up on me, and even though I dislike having to lose an hour of sleep, I'm so happy to have more daylight. Even just having an extra hour and eating dinner when the sun's still up is enough to make me start preparing for spring and summer, my two favorite seasons.
One thing I definitely miss, though, is walking around campus on days like this. My college campus was gorgeous; it was the "typical" image of what college looks like. Although I'm sure I would currently be sitting in class, itching to be outdoors, I would gladly take it if it meant being able to walk across campus, lounge on a bench and read, or go for a jog. I miss it so much that I just sent an e-mail out to my girlfriends, hoping that we could have our next meet-up at school so we can get nostalgic and wander campus aimlessly again.
With tomorrow being my brother's birthday and St. Patrick's Day, this week is going to be wonderful. Mostly I'm just excited because I get to make cupcakes, which I plan to decorate adorably even though my brother couldn't care less. Like, I'm more excited to bake than I am to drink. Go figure.
This week the temperatures are expected to hit sixty and I am beyond thrilled. As I write, the sun is shining and the skies are blue. It's still a little chilly, considering it's only 10:30, but I'll take it. Looking out the window and seeing such beautiful weather energizes me and motivates me to be all sorts of productive.
Daylight savings time snuck up on me, and even though I dislike having to lose an hour of sleep, I'm so happy to have more daylight. Even just having an extra hour and eating dinner when the sun's still up is enough to make me start preparing for spring and summer, my two favorite seasons.
One thing I definitely miss, though, is walking around campus on days like this. My college campus was gorgeous; it was the "typical" image of what college looks like. Although I'm sure I would currently be sitting in class, itching to be outdoors, I would gladly take it if it meant being able to walk across campus, lounge on a bench and read, or go for a jog. I miss it so much that I just sent an e-mail out to my girlfriends, hoping that we could have our next meet-up at school so we can get nostalgic and wander campus aimlessly again.
With tomorrow being my brother's birthday and St. Patrick's Day, this week is going to be wonderful. Mostly I'm just excited because I get to make cupcakes, which I plan to decorate adorably even though my brother couldn't care less. Like, I'm more excited to bake than I am to drink. Go figure.
Friday, February 12, 2010
my favorite valentine's day.
A photo essay.
Valentine's Day 2008, junior year of college.
Mysterious roses & girls night in.
Despite being sick, I wore a cute, theme-y outfit.
Decorations were put up...
...along with the obligatory tray of chocolates.
We all woke up to find roses at our door. They were a gift from a fellow accounting major who sprung to get roses for all the girls in our townhouse development. We didn't know that at the time, though, and had fun guessing.
Melissa got flowers from her boyfriend who was in England at the time. I was unnecessarily excited for her.
(They came in this absurdly huge box that we didn't know what to do with.)
Then Danielle, Melissa and I had our own personal Date Night. We watched Waitress, yelled at the TV, and cried.
Pajamas and delicious Italian take-out were involved.
So was this sparkling juice...
...that we couldn't open. See: distraught expression.
Eventually we figured it out; I don't remember how.
These chocolate-covered strawberries were also involved - a gift to Danielle from her boyfriend.
The end.
Valentine's Day 2008, junior year of college.
Mysterious roses & girls night in.
Despite being sick, I wore a cute, theme-y outfit.
Decorations were put up...
...along with the obligatory tray of chocolates.
We all woke up to find roses at our door. They were a gift from a fellow accounting major who sprung to get roses for all the girls in our townhouse development. We didn't know that at the time, though, and had fun guessing.
Melissa got flowers from her boyfriend who was in England at the time. I was unnecessarily excited for her.
(They came in this absurdly huge box that we didn't know what to do with.)
Then Danielle, Melissa and I had our own personal Date Night. We watched Waitress, yelled at the TV, and cried.
Pajamas and delicious Italian take-out were involved.
So was this sparkling juice...
...that we couldn't open. See: distraught expression.
Eventually we figured it out; I don't remember how.
These chocolate-covered strawberries were also involved - a gift to Danielle from her boyfriend.
The end.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
superbowl ramblings.
Before college, I never paid attention to the actual game during the Superbowl. I was more interested in the silly commercials and pigging out on onion dip and chips. Because of the massive junk food consumption and resulting bellyache, I often thought that there should be an official school holiday the day after the game.
In my freshman year at college, I spent the evening with my three best friends at the time. We muted the game itself and tried to pay enough attention to turn the sound back on to watch the commercials. Then when the game was over, we ran to the convenience store on campus and back in record time to grab snacks before the newest episode of Grey's Anatomy (when it was still good...).
In sophomore year, my friends and I were the fresh new executive board for the Residence Hall Association. Our idea was a good one - serve free pizza and hot wings while showing the game on two projector screens and a big-screen television - but whichever teams were playing that year, there was little interest. Well, other than in the food. People lined up to get their pizza and went back up to their rooms. That's what you get when you hold it in the main lounge of the freshman dorms.
Junior year was the best Superbowl experience I've had to date. The Giants were playing and I was decked out in a bright blue shirt with curling ribbon in my hair (the dance team-er in me never died). We had learned from the prior year's mistakes and had ordered triple the amounts of pizza and hot wings, making sure to stow a pie or two away so we actually had something to eat. All day, we made sure the projectors worked and the sound was set up correctly. We duct-taped all the wires to the floor and set up the dingy tables, sofas and chairs. The room filled quickly with people, who promptly lined up to get their food. They were so ravenous by halftime that they were watching when exactly we left the room to pick up the second batch of pizzas. And although I paid literally no attention to the football season preceding the big game, I was giddy with excitement as (mostly) everyone cheered on the Giants. It was an incredibly exciting game, due mostly to the spirit of everyone in the room. Hands down, it was one of my favorite college experiences.
Since then, my Superbowl festivities have been rather calm. Last year I was sick in bed, not making it back to school in time for The Boy's party (for which I had actually made Superbowl-themed cupcakes). And today? I'm relaxing with my family, eating onion dip and chips again. Except this time I also have a Smirnoff Ice in hand. Which makes it infinitely more awesome than five years ago.
In my freshman year at college, I spent the evening with my three best friends at the time. We muted the game itself and tried to pay enough attention to turn the sound back on to watch the commercials. Then when the game was over, we ran to the convenience store on campus and back in record time to grab snacks before the newest episode of Grey's Anatomy (when it was still good...).
In sophomore year, my friends and I were the fresh new executive board for the Residence Hall Association. Our idea was a good one - serve free pizza and hot wings while showing the game on two projector screens and a big-screen television - but whichever teams were playing that year, there was little interest. Well, other than in the food. People lined up to get their pizza and went back up to their rooms. That's what you get when you hold it in the main lounge of the freshman dorms.
Junior year was the best Superbowl experience I've had to date. The Giants were playing and I was decked out in a bright blue shirt with curling ribbon in my hair (the dance team-er in me never died). We had learned from the prior year's mistakes and had ordered triple the amounts of pizza and hot wings, making sure to stow a pie or two away so we actually had something to eat. All day, we made sure the projectors worked and the sound was set up correctly. We duct-taped all the wires to the floor and set up the dingy tables, sofas and chairs. The room filled quickly with people, who promptly lined up to get their food. They were so ravenous by halftime that they were watching when exactly we left the room to pick up the second batch of pizzas. And although I paid literally no attention to the football season preceding the big game, I was giddy with excitement as (mostly) everyone cheered on the Giants. It was an incredibly exciting game, due mostly to the spirit of everyone in the room. Hands down, it was one of my favorite college experiences.
Since then, my Superbowl festivities have been rather calm. Last year I was sick in bed, not making it back to school in time for The Boy's party (for which I had actually made Superbowl-themed cupcakes). And today? I'm relaxing with my family, eating onion dip and chips again. Except this time I also have a Smirnoff Ice in hand. Which makes it infinitely more awesome than five years ago.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
catharsis.
Since last post, I took an unexpected little bloggy break. I realize it was an icky post on which to end, but I really just needed to spend more time fixing the problem instead of dwelling on it. I do want to say thank you to everyone who responded because I've been a little lax on replying to comments and basically my response to each one is the same: thank you so much and big squishy virtual hugs!
Last Friday I spent the afternoon with two of my best friends from college, Katie and Melissa. It was so incredibly therapeutic in ways I didn't even expect. I had been looking forward to talking out all my problems and getting different perspectives on them, but didn't realize how happy I would be to see them and talk to them again.
Summer 2006, on our way to see Wicked on Broadway.
Last Friday I spent the afternoon with two of my best friends from college, Katie and Melissa. It was so incredibly therapeutic in ways I didn't even expect. I had been looking forward to talking out all my problems and getting different perspectives on them, but didn't realize how happy I would be to see them and talk to them again.
Summer 2006, on our way to see Wicked on Broadway.
In college I had a rough start, but somehow made friends anyway. Katie was one of those friends and we bonded so quickly that we moved in together (each of us was having problems with our assigned roommates, so we switched within the first two weeks of school). Our room was all the way at the end of the hall, secluded in the corner among the rowdier residents of our floor. We put up curtains and had a non-school-issued carpet, along with a unique room set-up. There were many nights spent talking about our lives and being surprised at the parallels, specifically the fact that we both attended all-girls high schools and felt socially inept because of it. It made freshman year so much more bearable to room with someone who didn't want to party and drink, but instead wanted to watch Disney movies and talk about childhood memories. And, you know, somebody who wanted to read the dictionary with me.
Okay, so we don't actually read the dictionary. This was part of Katie's campaign for class president in freshman year, because clearly, reading the dictionary makes you awesome.
Okay, so we don't actually read the dictionary. This was part of Katie's campaign for class president in freshman year, because clearly, reading the dictionary makes you awesome.
Then there was Melissa, and oh my God, I have never clicked with a friend faster. Nobody else even comes close to understanding my crazy, happy-go-lucky, let's-watch-Food-Network-and-call-Sandra-Lee-a-lush, Disney-crazed self as well as she does.That uber quirky side of me is often lost on people - I just take it to a level that most people aren't willing to go to, but Melissa somehow is. I met her through Katie, who had classes with her, when Melissa tagged along on a floormate outing to see Harry Potter 3. In sophomore year we roomed together and it was the most fun I ever had in college. It may not have been the most productive year, but we had a helluva good time.
Our first meeting.Love Friendship at first sight snarky movie commentary.
Our first meeting.
I'm sure this is true of everyone, but I make friends with people who share certain qualities with me. With Katie and Melissa, the range of topics we cover goes from discussing our life crises to what we think of the Jon and Kate fiasco. I find that we're all very open and eager to talk about things because we are looking for someone to validate our feelings and gently offer solutions. And that's exactly what I've been needing lately.
Monday, January 18, 2010
if i close my eyes.
This post is inspired by this post by Melissa.
If I close my eyes tight and turn on music from Colbie Caillat's first album, Coco, I'm transported to my junior year of college.
Opening the door in the morning to see everyone waking up, making breakfast, Natalie and I watching VH1 music videos. Donning scarves and walking to class together. Sitting in my room on a Saturday with the window open, overlooking the little bits of wilderness on our campus, the wind blowing in through my sheer white curtain with the flower decals.
Staying up late and talking about nonsense, eating microwaveable brownies, and cutting out pictures of shoes from magazines. Giggling and plotting over my pining for a silly boy. Watching The Hills, Grey's Anatomy, Dancing with the Stars, and Top Model. Knowing who was coming up the stairs just by the way they walked.
Walking across campus, carrying books; carrying art supplies; carrying a container full of candy corn and a pumpkin piñata. Going to lunch, dinner, wherever, and admiring our beautiful campus. Raising money at the local food store for RHA on an early Sunday morning, then having the whole day ahead of me. Speed walking on chilly nights to the spiritual center for Sunday night mass. Waking up at 8am on a Saturday to tape a video for the RHA conference and having a ridiculous amount of fun with the mascot costume. Going to conference.
Driving in my car, Natalie's car. Food shopping at Stop and Shop or Shoprite and using only one cart for four people. Buying supplies at the party store for a last-minute Halloween party. Stopping at Starbucks for a pumpkin spice latte. Shopping at Target and the mall, eating at Applebees, Joe's and Panera.
*
If I close my eyes really tight and put on some Mika (Grace Kelly and Love Today), I can go back to sophomore year of college.
Pipe cleaners and foam dealies. Our Disney-themed dorm room. Mystery spot on the bathtub floor. Wearing the same colors on the same day, because we're secretly a girl band. Obsessing over SYTYCD. Off-putting drippy sounds coming from the H-VAC. Creepy bugs that disappear and have us turning the room upside down. The Infamous Flood and subsequent chaos. Photoshoot with the industrial fan.
Countless trips to Alli's dorm to have unofficial RHA meetings. Grueling walks to the RHA office at 9am on Mondays. Going downstairs to watch American Idol in Dan's room. Making t-shirts for Relay for Life. Spending an entire afternoon saving the Sibling Sleepover event. Pulling off Lions Fest as the new executive board of RHA.
Always ordering too much dessert. Buying grapes for $8. Mistake bites. Microwaveable Pasta Alfredo. Questionable microwaveable Thai meals. Trips to the convenience store all the time because it was so close. Watching American Idol. Imitating car commercials. The pre-relationship saga with Katie and her current boyfriend. Doing laundry in the basement. Realizing mid-year that we were using the garbage room the wrong way. Criticizing HSN, infomercials, Oprah, and Sandra Lee. Bambi wake-up calls. Underwear on the floor. The "fuck it" bucket.
*
And sometimes, if I try very hard, I can hear C'est La Vie from B*Witched blasting from the girls' bathroom on my freshman floor (because we're cool like that) and remember almost everything.
Taking showers together (in separate stalls) with Linds at 2am. Walking around in slippers. Getting food from the late-night dining hall in pajama pants at midnight. Sitting in Patricia's room, studying microeconomics or talking about life. Hanging out in Andrea's room during fall semester finals. Spending inordinate amounts of time in Ivette and Lindsay's room and mocking our drunk floormates. Creating birthday posters.
Actually going to every class. Visiting C4 for date nights with Katrina. Getting my workout in by taking the stairs to W9 and sneaking food from Alli. Doing community service in the bad part of Trenton. Going to see my theater and music major floormates in performances.
Taking the Loop to the mall for numerous shopping trips. Getting stranded at the movie theater. Going out to eat with Katie's family when they visited. Coping with the John Fiocco incident. Floor meetings. Ice breakers. Rearranging our furniture. Painting a mural to leave our legacy.
--
Note: Senior year was omitted because it kind of sucked.
If I close my eyes tight and turn on music from Colbie Caillat's first album, Coco, I'm transported to my junior year of college.
Opening the door in the morning to see everyone waking up, making breakfast, Natalie and I watching VH1 music videos. Donning scarves and walking to class together. Sitting in my room on a Saturday with the window open, overlooking the little bits of wilderness on our campus, the wind blowing in through my sheer white curtain with the flower decals.
Staying up late and talking about nonsense, eating microwaveable brownies, and cutting out pictures of shoes from magazines. Giggling and plotting over my pining for a silly boy. Watching The Hills, Grey's Anatomy, Dancing with the Stars, and Top Model. Knowing who was coming up the stairs just by the way they walked.
Walking across campus, carrying books; carrying art supplies; carrying a container full of candy corn and a pumpkin piñata. Going to lunch, dinner, wherever, and admiring our beautiful campus. Raising money at the local food store for RHA on an early Sunday morning, then having the whole day ahead of me. Speed walking on chilly nights to the spiritual center for Sunday night mass. Waking up at 8am on a Saturday to tape a video for the RHA conference and having a ridiculous amount of fun with the mascot costume. Going to conference.
Driving in my car, Natalie's car. Food shopping at Stop and Shop or Shoprite and using only one cart for four people. Buying supplies at the party store for a last-minute Halloween party. Stopping at Starbucks for a pumpkin spice latte. Shopping at Target and the mall, eating at Applebees, Joe's and Panera.
*
If I close my eyes really tight and put on some Mika (Grace Kelly and Love Today), I can go back to sophomore year of college.
Pipe cleaners and foam dealies. Our Disney-themed dorm room. Mystery spot on the bathtub floor. Wearing the same colors on the same day, because we're secretly a girl band. Obsessing over SYTYCD. Off-putting drippy sounds coming from the H-VAC. Creepy bugs that disappear and have us turning the room upside down. The Infamous Flood and subsequent chaos. Photoshoot with the industrial fan.
Countless trips to Alli's dorm to have unofficial RHA meetings. Grueling walks to the RHA office at 9am on Mondays. Going downstairs to watch American Idol in Dan's room. Making t-shirts for Relay for Life. Spending an entire afternoon saving the Sibling Sleepover event. Pulling off Lions Fest as the new executive board of RHA.
Always ordering too much dessert. Buying grapes for $8. Mistake bites. Microwaveable Pasta Alfredo. Questionable microwaveable Thai meals. Trips to the convenience store all the time because it was so close. Watching American Idol. Imitating car commercials. The pre-relationship saga with Katie and her current boyfriend. Doing laundry in the basement. Realizing mid-year that we were using the garbage room the wrong way. Criticizing HSN, infomercials, Oprah, and Sandra Lee. Bambi wake-up calls. Underwear on the floor. The "fuck it" bucket.
*
And sometimes, if I try very hard, I can hear C'est La Vie from B*Witched blasting from the girls' bathroom on my freshman floor (because we're cool like that) and remember almost everything.
Taking showers together (in separate stalls) with Linds at 2am. Walking around in slippers. Getting food from the late-night dining hall in pajama pants at midnight. Sitting in Patricia's room, studying microeconomics or talking about life. Hanging out in Andrea's room during fall semester finals. Spending inordinate amounts of time in Ivette and Lindsay's room and mocking our drunk floormates. Creating birthday posters.
Actually going to every class. Visiting C4 for date nights with Katrina. Getting my workout in by taking the stairs to W9 and sneaking food from Alli. Doing community service in the bad part of Trenton. Going to see my theater and music major floormates in performances.
Taking the Loop to the mall for numerous shopping trips. Getting stranded at the movie theater. Going out to eat with Katie's family when they visited. Coping with the John Fiocco incident. Floor meetings. Ice breakers. Rearranging our furniture. Painting a mural to leave our legacy.
--
Note: Senior year was omitted because it kind of sucked.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
baby it's cold outside.
I'm all snuggled up in my room, looking at the rain-slash-snow falling outside, and I'm just so excited for winter this year. That's probably because I'm not in college anymore, so I don't need to walk the excruciating ten minutes to class in freezing cold weather. Seriously, it got pretty bad.
Example one was in freshmen year during finals for the fall semester. I'd spent three consecutive days completely within the confines of my dorm building. Since we had a small dining hall in the basement, there was no need to leave, even for meals. But on one of the days, I needed to trek all the way across campus (a ten-minute walk) to tend to something in the business building. It was the absolutely FRIGID.
Then there was junior year. For some reason, the cold was unbearable that winter. I remember walking to classes on several occasions with the wind blowing directly in my face. Being a stubborn/forgetful college student, I didn't have anything to cover my head, so my ears and nose completely froze. It was downright painful. The worst part was finally getting to class because my face would start to defrost and it would give me a headache.
But now? I get to cozy up in my house and drive myself whenever I need to leave instead of freezing to death.
My Day 5 photo is just okay, in my opinion. It took me a while to get it the way I wanted and I'm still not totally happy. But I love these little glass candy decorations and I wanted to show them off.
Example one was in freshmen year during finals for the fall semester. I'd spent three consecutive days completely within the confines of my dorm building. Since we had a small dining hall in the basement, there was no need to leave, even for meals. But on one of the days, I needed to trek all the way across campus (a ten-minute walk) to tend to something in the business building. It was the absolutely FRIGID.
Then there was junior year. For some reason, the cold was unbearable that winter. I remember walking to classes on several occasions with the wind blowing directly in my face. Being a stubborn/forgetful college student, I didn't have anything to cover my head, so my ears and nose completely froze. It was downright painful. The worst part was finally getting to class because my face would start to defrost and it would give me a headache.
But now? I get to cozy up in my house and drive myself whenever I need to leave instead of freezing to death.
My Day 5 photo is just okay, in my opinion. It took me a while to get it the way I wanted and I'm still not totally happy. But I love these little glass candy decorations and I wanted to show them off.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
blast from the past.
For the past few weeks, I've been organizing the family photos. We had envelopes upon envelopes of developed film dating back to around 1996. Yeah, that's thirteen years worth of photos.
During the organizational process - sorting out doubles, numbering the envelopes, and putting everything in albums - I decided to snap pictures of some of my favorites. My original purpose was to put them on Facebook tothoroughly embarrass share them with my family, but then I realized I could also give you guys a peek into my past.
~~
Super Serious, Day 6 - Monday.
Sleep: Went to bed at 4am, woke up at 3pm (hooboy, that's no bueno) = 11 hours.
No breakfast, no lunch - I went to work as soon as I got up.
Dinner (9:30pm) - Pasta with sauce
Snacks - 2 scoops pumpkin ice cream; salad with shrimp, shredded cheese, croutons & Caesar dressing; 2 blueberry waffles
Vitamins: none
Exercise: none
Drinks: 2 glasses of water
Notes: Eep, I was really bad. No real meals, no exercise, and not-so-healthy food. Hopefully I'll make up for it for the next two days. I'm probably going to do a "cleansing" diet, by which I mean I'll try drinking only water and tea, eating only "good" foods as much as possible, and completely avoiding the "bad" foods. I guess that means the pumpkin ice cream in the freezer is going to go untouched. Sad face.
During the organizational process - sorting out doubles, numbering the envelopes, and putting everything in albums - I decided to snap pictures of some of my favorites. My original purpose was to put them on Facebook to
My older cousins, my brother, and me, being a distraction.
Classy, I know.
Christmas photo! I'm retroactively pinching my OWN cheeks.
Proof that I did, in fact, play sports at some point in my life.
Go, go power rangers! You mighty morphin' power rangerrrrrrrrrs! In case you were wondering, this was the year that EVERYONE was a power ranger.
There's nothing like an eighth grade dance photo to scream LIFE AS A PRE-TEEN WAS TOTALLY AWKWARD.
Classy, I know.
Christmas photo! I'm retroactively pinching my OWN cheeks.
Proof that I did, in fact, play sports at some point in my life.
Go, go power rangers! You mighty morphin' power rangerrrrrrrrrs! In case you were wondering, this was the year that EVERYONE was a power ranger.
There's nothing like an eighth grade dance photo to scream LIFE AS A PRE-TEEN WAS TOTALLY AWKWARD.
~~
Super Serious, Day 6 - Monday.
Sleep: Went to bed at 4am, woke up at 3pm (hooboy, that's no bueno) = 11 hours.
No breakfast, no lunch - I went to work as soon as I got up.
Dinner (9:30pm) - Pasta with sauce
Snacks - 2 scoops pumpkin ice cream; salad with shrimp, shredded cheese, croutons & Caesar dressing; 2 blueberry waffles
Vitamins: none
Exercise: none
Drinks: 2 glasses of water
Notes: Eep, I was really bad. No real meals, no exercise, and not-so-healthy food. Hopefully I'll make up for it for the next two days. I'm probably going to do a "cleansing" diet, by which I mean I'll try drinking only water and tea, eating only "good" foods as much as possible, and completely avoiding the "bad" foods. I guess that means the pumpkin ice cream in the freezer is going to go untouched. Sad face.
Friday, October 30, 2009
happy halloween!
I absolutely love Halloween. Mainly for the free candy, but also because I love to dress up. I could definitely do without the scary stuff, but I don't mind it in moderation. Plus, I feel like it's the unofficial start to the holiday season.
Trick-or-treating was my activity of choice until sophomore year of college. Yes, COLLEGE. I continued to go throughout high school, I skipped freshmen year, but in sophomore year, a bunch of my friends still wanted to do it. And how can I pass up free candy? Sure, I could go buy my own bag, but unless you're going to shell out lots of cash, you're only going to get a limited variety. By going out, you get everything you could imagine and more. I remember dumping my bucket out and finding candy I totally forgot existed or that I simply didn't eat very often. It was amazing.
My junior and senior years didn't include trick-or-treating only because I hosted a party one year and attended one the following year. Our junior year party was pretty last-minute because we all wanted to go out, but not to drink (I know, we're not your typical college students). So, we hosted our own party which included pizza, snacks, and amazing brownies. We had thirteen people total, talked really loudly and got in trouble, then crowded into one of our rooms to watch Casper. It was a lot of fun, actually.
Our little common area, decked out for the party. We even had SUPER ILLEGAL STRING LIGHTS.
I guess now that I won't be trick-or-treating until I have kids of my own (yikes!), my favorite part of Halloween is definitely dressing up. In case you couldn't guess, I was Tinkerbell for our junior year party. Last year (my senior year) I was a black cat.
However, my favorite costume of all time was none other than being a Disney princess. I had only been a fairy princess when I was four years old, and had otherwise gone in the direction of whatever was popular (like the year I was the Pink Power Ranger when everyone else was too).
I can't say the idea was exactly all mine. My best friend at the time decided she wanted to be Maleficent, the evil witch from Sleeping Beauty. It was our senior year of high school, which meant we were the only ones allowed to dress up for the annual class parties. Since I had always wanted to do theme-y costumes with friends, I immediately decided I would be Aurora. Originally we tried to get our friends to be other Disney princesses and villains, but everyone already had other ideas.
Being Princess Aurora was the best time I've ever had on Halloween. I can't tell if it comes across in my blog, but I was born to be a Disney princess, no lie. Princess Cait was actually my nickname of sorts in high school (hence the URL to this blog - ou, fun fact!). I mean, nobody ever called me that in any seriousness, like yelling down the hallway for me. It was mostly just online screen name material and for joking around. Needless to say, I am the perfect candidate for dressing like a princess.
What was your favorite costume for Halloween? What's your favorite part of Halloween in general?
Trick-or-treating was my activity of choice until sophomore year of college. Yes, COLLEGE. I continued to go throughout high school, I skipped freshmen year, but in sophomore year, a bunch of my friends still wanted to do it. And how can I pass up free candy? Sure, I could go buy my own bag, but unless you're going to shell out lots of cash, you're only going to get a limited variety. By going out, you get everything you could imagine and more. I remember dumping my bucket out and finding candy I totally forgot existed or that I simply didn't eat very often. It was amazing.
My junior and senior years didn't include trick-or-treating only because I hosted a party one year and attended one the following year. Our junior year party was pretty last-minute because we all wanted to go out, but not to drink (I know, we're not your typical college students). So, we hosted our own party which included pizza, snacks, and amazing brownies. We had thirteen people total, talked really loudly and got in trouble, then crowded into one of our rooms to watch Casper. It was a lot of fun, actually.
Our little common area, decked out for the party. We even had SUPER ILLEGAL STRING LIGHTS.
I guess now that I won't be trick-or-treating until I have kids of my own (yikes!), my favorite part of Halloween is definitely dressing up. In case you couldn't guess, I was Tinkerbell for our junior year party. Last year (my senior year) I was a black cat.
However, my favorite costume of all time was none other than being a Disney princess. I had only been a fairy princess when I was four years old, and had otherwise gone in the direction of whatever was popular (like the year I was the Pink Power Ranger when everyone else was too).
I can't say the idea was exactly all mine. My best friend at the time decided she wanted to be Maleficent, the evil witch from Sleeping Beauty. It was our senior year of high school, which meant we were the only ones allowed to dress up for the annual class parties. Since I had always wanted to do theme-y costumes with friends, I immediately decided I would be Aurora. Originally we tried to get our friends to be other Disney princesses and villains, but everyone already had other ideas.
Being Princess Aurora was the best time I've ever had on Halloween. I can't tell if it comes across in my blog, but I was born to be a Disney princess, no lie. Princess Cait was actually my nickname of sorts in high school (hence the URL to this blog - ou, fun fact!). I mean, nobody ever called me that in any seriousness, like yelling down the hallway for me. It was mostly just online screen name material and for joking around. Needless to say, I am the perfect candidate for dressing like a princess.
What was your favorite costume for Halloween? What's your favorite part of Halloween in general?
Friday, October 16, 2009
remembering.
One of the weirdest things about me, I think, is my obsession with seeing myself on video or in photos. It's not really a narcissistic thing, I promise, but a desire to reconnect with all my memories and keep them fresh in my mind.
I think it's weird not to watch home videos. If you've got them, why not watch them? Isn't that the point? I say this because when I first got into these video-watching sprees, my parents frowned on it a bit. There was an implication that they were meant for when I was much older, like when I had my own kids. I understand that to a degree, but I fail to see the point of recording all this video only to have it sit in boxes, waiting to be dug up years and years later to look back on.
I thoroughly enjoy watching the videos and learn something new every time. On some of the videos, while the kids are being taped, you can hear the adults talking about family drama. The banter between the adults while the kids rip open Christmas gifts is hilarious. I learn about myself - how I was a very quiet kid until my brother was born, at which point I subconciously learned to vie for attention by being loud and chatty; how I liked to explain things, even if it meant stopping my gift-opening to tell everyone every character on the box; when exactly my fear of my two six-foot-tall uncles ceased.
There are also moments that I am so very grateful to be able to see whenever I want, ones that I would have never remembered but that are now ingrained in my memory. I have been blessed to have videos that include my late nana and poppop, because while pictures are good, video is better. I can see how they acted and spoke, remember how they interacted with us, and best of all, hear the sound of their voices. One of the early Christmas videos, when I was the newest grandchild on my dad's side of the family and only about two years old, contains nearly back-to-back moments that pull on every single one of my heartstrings.
The first is with my poppop - a tough man who smoked and drank heavily, with dark tattoos adorning his arms and a rough, hardened face, whose tough exterior was melted only by his grandchildren. And there I am in his arms, in stark contrast with my pale pink party dress and porcelain doll resemblance. He asks for a kiss, but I'm distracted, so he reaches in his pocket for quarters, or as we called it, "monies." Handing it to me, my little fists closing around my prize, my dad prompts me to give him a kiss. My red-lipped little face plants the lightest of kisses on his own mustached mouth; when asked for a hug, my hands full with quarters, I simply lean against his body and rest my head on his shoulder.
The second is with my nana, whom I believe I resemble the most out of anyone in this family. She was kind and giving, worked hard to keep a clean house and put food on the table, always keeping her appearance immaculate. To this day, when I hear her voice on video - the smooth raspiness from years of smoking - it soothes me. This moment might not have ever made it onto video, as I had wandered from the gift-opening to the kitchen, where she was cleaning up dinner. As I sit in a chair that's still too big for me, she answers the question asked of me, "how's Katie?" She says, "Say, I'm beautiful, that's how I am." There's a pause before she says, "do you know how much nana loves you?" And there is not one single moment that could possibly touch me any deeper than that. The first time I heard it (and every time I hear it or think of it), I feel as though she's reminding me, that she's somewhere close, asking that same rhetorical question to which I surely know the answer.
It's reasons like those that make me thirst for every moment of my life that's recorded on film or in photos. I want to drink in every memory so that I can retain those that I've lost or that I never remembered in the first place. My greatest dream is to find a day when I can force the rest of my family to pause, to have all my aunts, uncles and cousins sit together and watch all these memories, so they can be reminded, too. I think it would do us a lot of good.
I think it's weird not to watch home videos. If you've got them, why not watch them? Isn't that the point? I say this because when I first got into these video-watching sprees, my parents frowned on it a bit. There was an implication that they were meant for when I was much older, like when I had my own kids. I understand that to a degree, but I fail to see the point of recording all this video only to have it sit in boxes, waiting to be dug up years and years later to look back on.
I thoroughly enjoy watching the videos and learn something new every time. On some of the videos, while the kids are being taped, you can hear the adults talking about family drama. The banter between the adults while the kids rip open Christmas gifts is hilarious. I learn about myself - how I was a very quiet kid until my brother was born, at which point I subconciously learned to vie for attention by being loud and chatty; how I liked to explain things, even if it meant stopping my gift-opening to tell everyone every character on the box; when exactly my fear of my two six-foot-tall uncles ceased.
There are also moments that I am so very grateful to be able to see whenever I want, ones that I would have never remembered but that are now ingrained in my memory. I have been blessed to have videos that include my late nana and poppop, because while pictures are good, video is better. I can see how they acted and spoke, remember how they interacted with us, and best of all, hear the sound of their voices. One of the early Christmas videos, when I was the newest grandchild on my dad's side of the family and only about two years old, contains nearly back-to-back moments that pull on every single one of my heartstrings.
The first is with my poppop - a tough man who smoked and drank heavily, with dark tattoos adorning his arms and a rough, hardened face, whose tough exterior was melted only by his grandchildren. And there I am in his arms, in stark contrast with my pale pink party dress and porcelain doll resemblance. He asks for a kiss, but I'm distracted, so he reaches in his pocket for quarters, or as we called it, "monies." Handing it to me, my little fists closing around my prize, my dad prompts me to give him a kiss. My red-lipped little face plants the lightest of kisses on his own mustached mouth; when asked for a hug, my hands full with quarters, I simply lean against his body and rest my head on his shoulder.
The second is with my nana, whom I believe I resemble the most out of anyone in this family. She was kind and giving, worked hard to keep a clean house and put food on the table, always keeping her appearance immaculate. To this day, when I hear her voice on video - the smooth raspiness from years of smoking - it soothes me. This moment might not have ever made it onto video, as I had wandered from the gift-opening to the kitchen, where she was cleaning up dinner. As I sit in a chair that's still too big for me, she answers the question asked of me, "how's Katie?" She says, "Say, I'm beautiful, that's how I am." There's a pause before she says, "do you know how much nana loves you?" And there is not one single moment that could possibly touch me any deeper than that. The first time I heard it (and every time I hear it or think of it), I feel as though she's reminding me, that she's somewhere close, asking that same rhetorical question to which I surely know the answer.
It's reasons like those that make me thirst for every moment of my life that's recorded on film or in photos. I want to drink in every memory so that I can retain those that I've lost or that I never remembered in the first place. My greatest dream is to find a day when I can force the rest of my family to pause, to have all my aunts, uncles and cousins sit together and watch all these memories, so they can be reminded, too. I think it would do us a lot of good.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
strongest senses.
[Note: I actually wrote this entry over a week ago, but my wireless at home is crap and it shut out JUST as I was going to post. And then I forgot to every post it. Better late than never, I guess.]
It is so very true that sounds and smells are the strongest triggers for memories.
It's early in the morning; I haven't slept yet. My room is a shade of purple, photos hung on the walls, random papers and books strewn about the floor and dressers. I'm typing at my laptop, working on end-of-the-semester nonsense projects.
And the birds are chirping.
Not all of them are familiar, but almost. The same sing-song chirp every few seconds from one bird, the constant warbly-like chirp from another. My first thought is to roll my eyes at the fact that this means I really should have been sleeping already. But then I close my eyes and I can remember back to hearing those chirping birds year after year.
I can remember my bright pink room, where there was no television or laptop or internet connection. Waking up to the sound of these birds, on a weekend like this, I would hop out of bed and have bagels for breakfast before spending the rest of the day out in the sun.
Or maybe I remember walking down the street and waiting for my bus on the very first day of high school, my uniform feeling foreign but special. My nerves and excitement twisted my stomach in knots, but the cool summer morning breeze relaxed me as the bus pulled up.
~
The other day I noticed I have a nostalgic affinity for cigarettes. My grandparents on my dad's side, my nana and pop-pop, were heavy smokers. They passed away thirteen and fifteen years ago, respectively. Almost all of my memories of them are completely gone, save for any I can conjure up when watching home videos or flipping through photo albums.
But wouldn't you know it, every time I pass somebody smoking a cigarette, I think of them. Not only that, but sometimes I crave more, almost enjoying the scent. It comes back to feeling comforted by that smell, which is somewhat unfortunate. Because they smoked so heavily, they constantly smelled of it, and that's what I subconsciously have programmed in my mind.
~
Smell is such a powerful memory-inducer, and I have THE MOST unusual story to back it up. This past Christmas, my mother bought candles to use as a centerpiece. They supposedly smelled of bayberry, according to the label. But one afternoon as I passed by the dining room, I caught a strong whiff, and immediately identified the scent as belonging to my uncle. I should mention that this uncle divorced my aunt, who is my mother's sister, so we don't see much of him anymore. I was basing this off of holiday gatherings from years ago. My mother refused to believe me, as did the rest of my family. I, however, was very sure of myself.
Christmas Eve came and was celebrated at my house with my mother's side of the family, and at dinner the discussion turned to the candles in the centerpiece. Despite the knowledge that I was going to sound pretty weird, I said, "you know what they smell like? Uncle Bill." And in fact, I got exactly the reaction I expected - an awkward almost-silence. That is until my cousin - this uncle's younger daughter - picked up one of them, smelled it, and said, "yeah, definitely, you're right."
It's pretty interesting to experience the smell or sound memory triggers for myself, although that last story is a combination of that and my uncanny memory for really, really random things. I recently was able to list off the names of all of the kids of my parents' friends, most of whom I met ONCE when I was very young, and could pretty much describe how we spent our time with each family. So that's the kind of information my brain deems important as opposed to all the school-related information I try to stuff in there for finals. Thanks, brain.
It is so very true that sounds and smells are the strongest triggers for memories.
It's early in the morning; I haven't slept yet. My room is a shade of purple, photos hung on the walls, random papers and books strewn about the floor and dressers. I'm typing at my laptop, working on end-of-the-semester nonsense projects.
And the birds are chirping.
Not all of them are familiar, but almost. The same sing-song chirp every few seconds from one bird, the constant warbly-like chirp from another. My first thought is to roll my eyes at the fact that this means I really should have been sleeping already. But then I close my eyes and I can remember back to hearing those chirping birds year after year.
I can remember my bright pink room, where there was no television or laptop or internet connection. Waking up to the sound of these birds, on a weekend like this, I would hop out of bed and have bagels for breakfast before spending the rest of the day out in the sun.
Or maybe I remember walking down the street and waiting for my bus on the very first day of high school, my uniform feeling foreign but special. My nerves and excitement twisted my stomach in knots, but the cool summer morning breeze relaxed me as the bus pulled up.
~
The other day I noticed I have a nostalgic affinity for cigarettes. My grandparents on my dad's side, my nana and pop-pop, were heavy smokers. They passed away thirteen and fifteen years ago, respectively. Almost all of my memories of them are completely gone, save for any I can conjure up when watching home videos or flipping through photo albums.
But wouldn't you know it, every time I pass somebody smoking a cigarette, I think of them. Not only that, but sometimes I crave more, almost enjoying the scent. It comes back to feeling comforted by that smell, which is somewhat unfortunate. Because they smoked so heavily, they constantly smelled of it, and that's what I subconsciously have programmed in my mind.
~
Smell is such a powerful memory-inducer, and I have THE MOST unusual story to back it up. This past Christmas, my mother bought candles to use as a centerpiece. They supposedly smelled of bayberry, according to the label. But one afternoon as I passed by the dining room, I caught a strong whiff, and immediately identified the scent as belonging to my uncle. I should mention that this uncle divorced my aunt, who is my mother's sister, so we don't see much of him anymore. I was basing this off of holiday gatherings from years ago. My mother refused to believe me, as did the rest of my family. I, however, was very sure of myself.
Christmas Eve came and was celebrated at my house with my mother's side of the family, and at dinner the discussion turned to the candles in the centerpiece. Despite the knowledge that I was going to sound pretty weird, I said, "you know what they smell like? Uncle Bill." And in fact, I got exactly the reaction I expected - an awkward almost-silence. That is until my cousin - this uncle's younger daughter - picked up one of them, smelled it, and said, "yeah, definitely, you're right."
It's pretty interesting to experience the smell or sound memory triggers for myself, although that last story is a combination of that and my uncanny memory for really, really random things. I recently was able to list off the names of all of the kids of my parents' friends, most of whom I met ONCE when I was very young, and could pretty much describe how we spent our time with each family. So that's the kind of information my brain deems important as opposed to all the school-related information I try to stuff in there for finals. Thanks, brain.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
i can smell it...
Okay everybody. The Christmas season is in sight, and I'm itching to get started on.. well, everything! Making my gift-giving lists, my own wishlists, playing Christmas music, shopping for sales and deals, planning cute desserts to make, picking out cute outfits, and of course, decorating!
There are signs of holidays everywhere. I'm one of thoseobnoxious excitable people who have the exact reaction that advertisers are looking for - instant need to indulge in the holiday season. I can't help it! I'm addicted. I think a large part of it is that holidays create such a nostalgic feeling, especially with commercials like this:
I remember that commercial being around for a good chunk of my childhood, and I just saw it again on TV. And it just gives you that... really good feeling. It triggers memories about all the past Christmases, particularly those when I was little. The same excitement stirs in my stomach as it did when I was a child.
We always celebrated Christmas Eve in addition to Christmas day, which not only meant two fun-packed days of hanging out with my cousins, but um.. more presents, duh. I'm not ashamed; I was a greedy little brat. Ahem. Anyway. Christmas was always this amazing time in my life, and I know I'm very lucky because not everyone experiences it like that. But I have memories of wearing footie pajamas on Christmas Eve and watching as Santa rode by on the fire truck; waking up way too early in the morning and annoying the crap out of my parents until we got our presents; putting on a pretty dress and fancy tights and shoes, and getting my hair curled by my mom; sitting at the kids table and being silly; unwrapping presents and begging my parents to open, of course, the most complicated gift; actually being surprised by the gifts under the tree.
I enjoy Christmas in a whole new way now that I'm older. Now that the gifts I get are ones I've asked for and, in some cases, purchased myself and given to my parents, that part of the season is missing. The carefree days of being so full of excitement that you couldn't sleep on Christmas Eve.. they're gone. But I've replaced those traditions with new ones that I enjoy in very different ways. Being a shopping fiend and a Martha Stewart wanna-be, I happily dive into the holidays. I was out shopping on Sunday at JC Penny's, and just the fact that they were having a really awesome sale and playing Christmas music got me in a really giddy mood. There's this rush I get when I search through stores and find really great gifts, especially when they're on sale. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who actually enjoys going into a crowded mall during the full-blown Christmas season, hot chocolate in hand, stopping to admire all the Christmas displays (especially in Fortuneoff!), finding the perfect gifts for really good prices, and leaving with sore feet and multiple shopping bags.
Perhaps I'm naïve, but the spirit of giving and love just pulses through me when I'm at the mall or shopping online, or when I experience any part of the holiday season. I don't find it to be a drag or a nuisance; when I'm out shopping, I look around and don't think "oh hey look at all the money these stores are trying to rip from my wallet." I think, "look at all these awesome gifts and all these people buying things for other people." I play Christmas music 24/7. Decorating the tree at home is now pretty much solely my job, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Every year, I scour online recipe websites for unique but easy desserts. I decorate a gingerbread house (using a kit, of course). I tear through my closet, picking outfits for Christmas Eve and Day and any other parties I'm attending. My new tradition is to hand-make some sort of snack to give as gifts to my friends at college, since I don't have a lot of money. I think this year I might try to accomplish this completely on campus, meaning buying all the supplies at the conveinence store here. We'll see how that goes.
I'm just really excited and I can't help myself. I'm trying my hardest to put off most things Christmas until after Thanksgiving, because it really irks me that it gets written off as a holiday. It's like Halloween's over, then WHAM BAM THANK YOU MA'AM time for Christmas. Um, no. Give Thanksgiving it's due credit, plz. Besides, unless you have the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade with Santa at the end, it's not offically the Christmas season. So there.
There are signs of holidays everywhere. I'm one of those
I remember that commercial being around for a good chunk of my childhood, and I just saw it again on TV. And it just gives you that... really good feeling. It triggers memories about all the past Christmases, particularly those when I was little. The same excitement stirs in my stomach as it did when I was a child.
We always celebrated Christmas Eve in addition to Christmas day, which not only meant two fun-packed days of hanging out with my cousins, but um.. more presents, duh. I'm not ashamed; I was a greedy little brat. Ahem. Anyway. Christmas was always this amazing time in my life, and I know I'm very lucky because not everyone experiences it like that. But I have memories of wearing footie pajamas on Christmas Eve and watching as Santa rode by on the fire truck; waking up way too early in the morning and annoying the crap out of my parents until we got our presents; putting on a pretty dress and fancy tights and shoes, and getting my hair curled by my mom; sitting at the kids table and being silly; unwrapping presents and begging my parents to open, of course, the most complicated gift; actually being surprised by the gifts under the tree.
I enjoy Christmas in a whole new way now that I'm older. Now that the gifts I get are ones I've asked for and, in some cases, purchased myself and given to my parents, that part of the season is missing. The carefree days of being so full of excitement that you couldn't sleep on Christmas Eve.. they're gone. But I've replaced those traditions with new ones that I enjoy in very different ways. Being a shopping fiend and a Martha Stewart wanna-be, I happily dive into the holidays. I was out shopping on Sunday at JC Penny's, and just the fact that they were having a really awesome sale and playing Christmas music got me in a really giddy mood. There's this rush I get when I search through stores and find really great gifts, especially when they're on sale. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who actually enjoys going into a crowded mall during the full-blown Christmas season, hot chocolate in hand, stopping to admire all the Christmas displays (especially in Fortuneoff!), finding the perfect gifts for really good prices, and leaving with sore feet and multiple shopping bags.
Perhaps I'm naïve, but the spirit of giving and love just pulses through me when I'm at the mall or shopping online, or when I experience any part of the holiday season. I don't find it to be a drag or a nuisance; when I'm out shopping, I look around and don't think "oh hey look at all the money these stores are trying to rip from my wallet." I think, "look at all these awesome gifts and all these people buying things for other people." I play Christmas music 24/7. Decorating the tree at home is now pretty much solely my job, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Every year, I scour online recipe websites for unique but easy desserts. I decorate a gingerbread house (using a kit, of course). I tear through my closet, picking outfits for Christmas Eve and Day and any other parties I'm attending. My new tradition is to hand-make some sort of snack to give as gifts to my friends at college, since I don't have a lot of money. I think this year I might try to accomplish this completely on campus, meaning buying all the supplies at the conveinence store here. We'll see how that goes.
I'm just really excited and I can't help myself. I'm trying my hardest to put off most things Christmas until after Thanksgiving, because it really irks me that it gets written off as a holiday. It's like Halloween's over, then WHAM BAM THANK YOU MA'AM time for Christmas. Um, no. Give Thanksgiving it's due credit, plz. Besides, unless you have the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade with Santa at the end, it's not offically the Christmas season. So there.
Monday, August 11, 2008
summertime
This summer has treated me very nicely, despite a few bumps in the road concerning The Boy. But even that got sorted out this weekend, leaving me with a good two weeks left to enjoy and wind down.
Earlier this summer I expected to have found an internship or at least a more full-time job. I found neither and ended up being very grateful for that. I think subconsciously I needed this summer to be completely relaxed and enjoyable, since it was my "last" summer. After this school year, I will hopefully be working full time at an accounting firm somewhere (fingers crossed).
In exactly two weeks I go back to school. It seems like the summer has flown by, because it has. I did so many fun things and had so many new experiences that I can't even begin to recount all of them. Of course, many were cataloged here in this blog, which is one of my main reasons for blogging. I love to go back on a stressful night during the school year, or even a laid-back afternoon in the summer, and read all my old blog entires.
As I mentioned above, The Boy and I have worked things out completely now. We both realized what everyone around us probably knew - that starting and maintaining a relationship knowing full well it would be semi-long-distance was an awful idea. On top of that, he's now realized that the intense stress he was under regarding MCATs was spilling over more than once into the relationship. So here's where we stand now: we're calling it "friends with interest," which basically means taking it back to friendship until we get to spend more time together in person back at school. Then we'll see where it goes from there. And honestly? For the first time since all the issues started popping up between us, I feel unbelievably relieved.
These next two weeks are probably going to fly by just as quickly as the rest of the summer, so I'm going to milk them for every enjoyable moment that I can.
Earlier this summer I expected to have found an internship or at least a more full-time job. I found neither and ended up being very grateful for that. I think subconsciously I needed this summer to be completely relaxed and enjoyable, since it was my "last" summer. After this school year, I will hopefully be working full time at an accounting firm somewhere (fingers crossed).
In exactly two weeks I go back to school. It seems like the summer has flown by, because it has. I did so many fun things and had so many new experiences that I can't even begin to recount all of them. Of course, many were cataloged here in this blog, which is one of my main reasons for blogging. I love to go back on a stressful night during the school year, or even a laid-back afternoon in the summer, and read all my old blog entires.
As I mentioned above, The Boy and I have worked things out completely now. We both realized what everyone around us probably knew - that starting and maintaining a relationship knowing full well it would be semi-long-distance was an awful idea. On top of that, he's now realized that the intense stress he was under regarding MCATs was spilling over more than once into the relationship. So here's where we stand now: we're calling it "friends with interest," which basically means taking it back to friendship until we get to spend more time together in person back at school. Then we'll see where it goes from there. And honestly? For the first time since all the issues started popping up between us, I feel unbelievably relieved.
These next two weeks are probably going to fly by just as quickly as the rest of the summer, so I'm going to milk them for every enjoyable moment that I can.
Friday, July 4, 2008
cupcake craving
So I seem to have developed a very odd sleeping schedule. These past couple of days have been a little nuts - I had a ton of coursework due at midnight yesterday, none of which I had even looked at before Monday of this week. Therefore, a huge amount of cramming was necessary. But! I was able to push out a ten-page paper on male stereotypes in the dance world in just four hours. I'm just that amazing.
Let's see.. after working out the past few days in my mind, I come up with a grand total of thirty hours of sleep since Monday. That's really not bad at all. I thought I was worse off than that, mainly because I stayed up Wednesday night into Thursday, slept from 1pm until 5:30, then again from midnight until 3am. But that's a solid eight and a half hours.
What's really good is that I have to go out today in the early afternoon. So whether I grab a few hours before then or not, I should be nice and tired at a decent hour tonight. Then maybe I'll finally be fixed. Because I've been broken for a long, long time now.
*
I've been craving baked goods lately, and have been completely incapable of satisfying this craving. I keep doing that thing where I think, ou, a cupcake would be DELICIOUS right now, so I skip down the stairs into my kitchen or my basement, looking for a substitute. I already know that we do not have cupcakes in the house, but I keep thinking I'll find something close enough. Melissa and I tend to do this a lot back at school - we're big fans of Food Network, but we always end up with a serious craving for whatever they're featuring on the show we're watching.
Usually we'd end up disappointed, going to bed whining about how hungry we were. However, there is one exception - The 1AM Trip to the Sketch Diner for Pie. It was sophomore year, when the two of us shared a room. We were watching a series of different shows on the Food Network that were all talking about pie, and both of us were rummaging through our stashes of food, desperately hoping to find something that somewhat resembled pie. As usual, we found nothing but microwavable Thai food and granola bars.
Just when we thought all hope was lost, Matt saved the day. Melissa had been chatting with him on AIM, explaining our predicament, and also sucking him into wanting pie as well. So he suggested a simple solution that we had never really considered: going off-campus to a diner or 7-11. Why we didn't think of this, I don't really know. We both had cars on campus. These places were right down the street. I guess the idea just never occurred to us.. or, we were just really lazy. I'm gonna go with the latter choice. Anyway, the happy ending to this story is that we ended up at a really sketch diner, enjoying our pie, and answering trivia questions being asked of us by the old man who owned the place (or something like that).
... this still doesn't help with the fact that I'm in dire need of a cupcake right now. It all started with Jenn's post about her visit to an awesome cupcake place. I tried (and failed) at finding a place around here that specializes in cupcakes, resorting instead to torturing myself by finding and looking over blogs like Cupcakes Take the Cake and Bakerella.
All I know is that we're having a small family get-together for my grandparents' birthday today, and there BETTER BE CAKE. Otherwise I might have to resort to either making my own or buying an entire case from one of the grocery store bakeries.. and in either instance, eating all of them myself in one sitting. I don't see that going well.
Let's see.. after working out the past few days in my mind, I come up with a grand total of thirty hours of sleep since Monday. That's really not bad at all. I thought I was worse off than that, mainly because I stayed up Wednesday night into Thursday, slept from 1pm until 5:30, then again from midnight until 3am. But that's a solid eight and a half hours.
What's really good is that I have to go out today in the early afternoon. So whether I grab a few hours before then or not, I should be nice and tired at a decent hour tonight. Then maybe I'll finally be fixed. Because I've been broken for a long, long time now.
*
I've been craving baked goods lately, and have been completely incapable of satisfying this craving. I keep doing that thing where I think, ou, a cupcake would be DELICIOUS right now, so I skip down the stairs into my kitchen or my basement, looking for a substitute. I already know that we do not have cupcakes in the house, but I keep thinking I'll find something close enough. Melissa and I tend to do this a lot back at school - we're big fans of Food Network, but we always end up with a serious craving for whatever they're featuring on the show we're watching.
Usually we'd end up disappointed, going to bed whining about how hungry we were. However, there is one exception - The 1AM Trip to the Sketch Diner for Pie. It was sophomore year, when the two of us shared a room. We were watching a series of different shows on the Food Network that were all talking about pie, and both of us were rummaging through our stashes of food, desperately hoping to find something that somewhat resembled pie. As usual, we found nothing but microwavable Thai food and granola bars.
Just when we thought all hope was lost, Matt saved the day. Melissa had been chatting with him on AIM, explaining our predicament, and also sucking him into wanting pie as well. So he suggested a simple solution that we had never really considered: going off-campus to a diner or 7-11. Why we didn't think of this, I don't really know. We both had cars on campus. These places were right down the street. I guess the idea just never occurred to us.. or, we were just really lazy. I'm gonna go with the latter choice. Anyway, the happy ending to this story is that we ended up at a really sketch diner, enjoying our pie, and answering trivia questions being asked of us by the old man who owned the place (or something like that).
... this still doesn't help with the fact that I'm in dire need of a cupcake right now. It all started with Jenn's post about her visit to an awesome cupcake place. I tried (and failed) at finding a place around here that specializes in cupcakes, resorting instead to torturing myself by finding and looking over blogs like Cupcakes Take the Cake and Bakerella.
All I know is that we're having a small family get-together for my grandparents' birthday today, and there BETTER BE CAKE. Otherwise I might have to resort to either making my own or buying an entire case from one of the grocery store bakeries.. and in either instance, eating all of them myself in one sitting. I don't see that going well.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
dance to the music
Music moves me. That should be a surprise to nobody. Music moves my mind, my body, my soul. It touches my heart.
Music is one of those things in life that can do anything. It's undeniable, almost. You can't live without music. It's also universal. It's one of those questions you ask a stranger you're getting to know ("what music do you like?"). Why? Because it's telling of one's personality, of who someone really and truly is.
I am a huge fan of finding ways to hold on to memories. Pictures are really important to me. My high school group of friends never really liked taking pictures, and the result is that whenever I miss them, I'm stuck looking at the same five or six pictures. That's why, for the people who know me now, I try to have my camera on me at all times, and almost always insist on snapping a few photos. I don't want to lose the memories, because I know I will. We all will. It's impossible to remember every moment of every day, as much as we'd all love to.
Linking music with memories is even more important to me now. Songs trigger one memory, and that's all it takes until I'm lost in a daydream about the past. I just heard On The Radio by Donna Summer and was immediately back in my dance recital from 2005. We did a montage of Donna Summer songs; it was the finale for that year, the last performance of my full-time dance career. I remember switching from pointe shoes to lyrical boots in between songs, chaos in the wings, the moment when it ended. And then when the six seniors went up and bowed, and they screamed for us louder than the rest.. I'll never lose that moment.
Then another memory pops up: rehearsals. Twenty people in our one-room studio. Five of us had just returned from a dinner break to Subworks with our tap teacher. I miss dinner breaks to fast food restaurants. We brought back a box of Munchkins for everyone, because it was our last practice before the official dress rehearsal. It was our last practice ever.
I could go on, but I'll stop myself. This happens with any song that's tied to a memory. It's amazing, though, because you never forget songs. Whenever you hear it, you think back to that moment, good or bad.
What are some songs that never fail to bring up memories for you? I know you've got one.
Music is one of those things in life that can do anything. It's undeniable, almost. You can't live without music. It's also universal. It's one of those questions you ask a stranger you're getting to know ("what music do you like?"). Why? Because it's telling of one's personality, of who someone really and truly is.
I am a huge fan of finding ways to hold on to memories. Pictures are really important to me. My high school group of friends never really liked taking pictures, and the result is that whenever I miss them, I'm stuck looking at the same five or six pictures. That's why, for the people who know me now, I try to have my camera on me at all times, and almost always insist on snapping a few photos. I don't want to lose the memories, because I know I will. We all will. It's impossible to remember every moment of every day, as much as we'd all love to.
Linking music with memories is even more important to me now. Songs trigger one memory, and that's all it takes until I'm lost in a daydream about the past. I just heard On The Radio by Donna Summer and was immediately back in my dance recital from 2005. We did a montage of Donna Summer songs; it was the finale for that year, the last performance of my full-time dance career. I remember switching from pointe shoes to lyrical boots in between songs, chaos in the wings, the moment when it ended. And then when the six seniors went up and bowed, and they screamed for us louder than the rest.. I'll never lose that moment.
Then another memory pops up: rehearsals. Twenty people in our one-room studio. Five of us had just returned from a dinner break to Subworks with our tap teacher. I miss dinner breaks to fast food restaurants. We brought back a box of Munchkins for everyone, because it was our last practice before the official dress rehearsal. It was our last practice ever.
I could go on, but I'll stop myself. This happens with any song that's tied to a memory. It's amazing, though, because you never forget songs. Whenever you hear it, you think back to that moment, good or bad.
What are some songs that never fail to bring up memories for you? I know you've got one.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
moving out
I'm pretty glad that I slept late today, even though I was frantically rushing to get to my final. I didn't get a chance to review the last topic in the morning, which hurt me in the end because there were five questions on the end of the final about it. Whoops.
Sitting and taking that final was the last moment of peace for me for the rest of the day. I rushed back to my house in the rain to start packing. I was glad to find Natalie still getting ready to leave, so we said goodbyes for the second time. I watched her walk all the way down the stairs, just like we had done for Danielle.
Packing the cars was hellish. Just when the rain seemed to be letting up, it suddenly poured as the three of us - my mother, my brother and myself - walked back from our first trip out to the cars. Considering my mother isn't the best candidate for walking to and from the parking deck, she was exhausted after the first trip. She was also frustrated with the parking situation directly outside of the house, which I could've told her would happen. Regardless, we were able to haul stuff out pretty quickly, and soon my brother and mom had left.
I spent a good hour taking down the remaining decorations in my room. A lot of people would probably have taken down decorations first, since they're the easiest. However, I would've probably gone crazy with bare walls and an empty desk. I took the ribbon off my lamp, turning it back into its ugly dorm-like self. The curtain came down, as did the scrapbook pages used to cover the less-than-pleasing cork board bordering the room. I finally got all my remaining stuff out into the common area, and making sure my window was locked, I stood for a moment to remember the view. Turning the lights out, I paused for a moment (as I've done every year) before closing the door for the last time.
Now came the hard part. I made one last trip to my car, returning to the house in silence (I'd had sappy songs playing on my laptop up to this point, you know, just to hit that emotional chord as hard as possible). Triple checking the drawers, fridge, and bathrooms, I threw out anything I wasn't taking with me and packed my last bag. Then it was time to take down the little verse I'd written about the four of us, about our experiences in this house. I ended up sitting on the floor, against the banister, and reading it again. It didn't take long before I was crying; I'd been starting to every couple of minutes, as I'd open the doors under the sink expecting the trash to be there, or as I stopped by Natalie's closed door and mentally pictured how many times I'd stood there, distracting her and Danielle. After I finished reading and took a moment, I packed the papers away and picked up my bag, and reached for the light switches. It was the most difficult part of the entire thing. I hit the first one, and the lights in the common area went out. I hit the second one and was enveloped in darkness. But the same familiar shadows of the house remained as I walked very slowly down the stairs.
Being the last one to leave the house was very emotional for me, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I think leaving while other people were still there would be equally emotional, plus, this way I had the opportunity to just take in the emptiness. I felt an attachment to leaving last, since I'd been the very first one to move in.
I am beyond excited for summer, and I know that I'm going to see my roommates a million times anyway (every two weeks, at least). But having to leave behind our home away from home, where we could see each other at any hour of the day.. it's tough.
Sitting and taking that final was the last moment of peace for me for the rest of the day. I rushed back to my house in the rain to start packing. I was glad to find Natalie still getting ready to leave, so we said goodbyes for the second time. I watched her walk all the way down the stairs, just like we had done for Danielle.
Packing the cars was hellish. Just when the rain seemed to be letting up, it suddenly poured as the three of us - my mother, my brother and myself - walked back from our first trip out to the cars. Considering my mother isn't the best candidate for walking to and from the parking deck, she was exhausted after the first trip. She was also frustrated with the parking situation directly outside of the house, which I could've told her would happen. Regardless, we were able to haul stuff out pretty quickly, and soon my brother and mom had left.
I spent a good hour taking down the remaining decorations in my room. A lot of people would probably have taken down decorations first, since they're the easiest. However, I would've probably gone crazy with bare walls and an empty desk. I took the ribbon off my lamp, turning it back into its ugly dorm-like self. The curtain came down, as did the scrapbook pages used to cover the less-than-pleasing cork board bordering the room. I finally got all my remaining stuff out into the common area, and making sure my window was locked, I stood for a moment to remember the view. Turning the lights out, I paused for a moment (as I've done every year) before closing the door for the last time.
Now came the hard part. I made one last trip to my car, returning to the house in silence (I'd had sappy songs playing on my laptop up to this point, you know, just to hit that emotional chord as hard as possible). Triple checking the drawers, fridge, and bathrooms, I threw out anything I wasn't taking with me and packed my last bag. Then it was time to take down the little verse I'd written about the four of us, about our experiences in this house. I ended up sitting on the floor, against the banister, and reading it again. It didn't take long before I was crying; I'd been starting to every couple of minutes, as I'd open the doors under the sink expecting the trash to be there, or as I stopped by Natalie's closed door and mentally pictured how many times I'd stood there, distracting her and Danielle. After I finished reading and took a moment, I packed the papers away and picked up my bag, and reached for the light switches. It was the most difficult part of the entire thing. I hit the first one, and the lights in the common area went out. I hit the second one and was enveloped in darkness. But the same familiar shadows of the house remained as I walked very slowly down the stairs.
Being the last one to leave the house was very emotional for me, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I think leaving while other people were still there would be equally emotional, plus, this way I had the opportunity to just take in the emptiness. I felt an attachment to leaving last, since I'd been the very first one to move in.
I am beyond excited for summer, and I know that I'm going to see my roommates a million times anyway (every two weeks, at least). But having to leave behind our home away from home, where we could see each other at any hour of the day.. it's tough.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
"home"
Danielle's gone. Well, "gone" being a very loose term. She left the dorm; she's technically a college graduate and is moving on to med school.
The worst part of her leaving was the solidification of the cold, hard fact that we're leaving. In two stress-filled days, this school year is over, and I'm so busy that I won't have time to stand back and think of all the memories. All the dancing that took place here. How each room had its designated television shows, and how you could make anyone's bed your own. The meals we shared on our little folding card table. Watching the dishes of one person pile up, and knowing that meant they were doing serious work. Playing Wii in Danielle's room. Game nights. Learning the sound of how each of us walked up the stairs; waving and calling out to that person before they got up the stairs. The singing. Our infamous Halloween party. Danielle's mom's brownies. Natalie's mom's leftover chocolate. The prominent color schemes in our rooms. Spending hours upon hours, into the early morning, just talking. Video chatting with Alex. Our slippers. The delicious smell of food coming from the second floor. DeWarren singing/beatboxing whenever he walked in the house. The familiar click of the card reader and the sound of the door opening, and the slamming. The equally familiar sound of Velcro being pulled apart - taking the marker off it's magnet. Danielle's palm tree. Melissa's futon. My endless number of photos on the wall. Natalie's boyfriend pillow. Bambi.
Friday will be bittersweet. I'm the last one out, and am literally the only one around. In past years, I've had a few people around until the end. Now it'll just be me; I'll be the only one to witness the utter emptiness of this house. I'll be the one to pull down the shoe collage, double-check that the fridge is empty, clean the toilet one last time. I really don't want to leave.
The worst part of her leaving was the solidification of the cold, hard fact that we're leaving. In two stress-filled days, this school year is over, and I'm so busy that I won't have time to stand back and think of all the memories. All the dancing that took place here. How each room had its designated television shows, and how you could make anyone's bed your own. The meals we shared on our little folding card table. Watching the dishes of one person pile up, and knowing that meant they were doing serious work. Playing Wii in Danielle's room. Game nights. Learning the sound of how each of us walked up the stairs; waving and calling out to that person before they got up the stairs. The singing. Our infamous Halloween party. Danielle's mom's brownies. Natalie's mom's leftover chocolate. The prominent color schemes in our rooms. Spending hours upon hours, into the early morning, just talking. Video chatting with Alex. Our slippers. The delicious smell of food coming from the second floor. DeWarren singing/beatboxing whenever he walked in the house. The familiar click of the card reader and the sound of the door opening, and the slamming. The equally familiar sound of Velcro being pulled apart - taking the marker off it's magnet. Danielle's palm tree. Melissa's futon. My endless number of photos on the wall. Natalie's boyfriend pillow. Bambi.
Friday will be bittersweet. I'm the last one out, and am literally the only one around. In past years, I've had a few people around until the end. Now it'll just be me; I'll be the only one to witness the utter emptiness of this house. I'll be the one to pull down the shoe collage, double-check that the fridge is empty, clean the toilet one last time. I really don't want to leave.
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