Sorry for the week hiatus, y’all! The past week has been absolutely chaotic and messy, as I was pretty much living out of my car & my generous friends’ living rooms. But despite all this, I just graduated from COLLEGE this weekend, no big deal!
There’s really only twos thing I never hope to hear ever again:
1) When people say they “gradumacated.” Ugh. Seriously? Not cute. (NEVER cute.)
2) “Finals are coming.” Praise God, never again (until grad school.)
At my school, there exists a magical evening every semester known by all as tap night. Groups of similarly dressed men and women parade around campus marching in lines two by two and ambush lone individuals, whispering things to them & then permitting them join the end of the line.
…This is also known as the beginning of Greek rush.
In preparation, I needed to find black comfortable heels! Instead of buying new ones, I decided to redo a old vintage pair of shoes that were in bad shape. And after reading seemingly simple instructions online, I decided to go for it!
Step 1: Choose shoes! Mine were silk, but I’m sure any texture (even plastic) would work.
I was so naive. Glitter is the STI of the craft world. It gets EVERYWHERE (so many places…) really fast. And it won’t go away. So, warning: only attempt if you don’t mind picking glitter off of you for the next 24 hours. Continue reading
-Davy Crockett (and all gift mugs & shot glasses in every souvenir shop)
It’s hard to believe that my summer in Texas is coming to a close, with merely 2.5 weeks left. There’s something about the summer that makes time feel so lethargic and docile, while contrarily speeding away haphazardly. I’ve learned so much about life, God, time, and myself. To describe my summer here, there’s only one fitting word: necessary.
I think there’s such an interesting correlation between leaving and learning. If you think about it, the hero of a coming of age movie never stays home. In order to learn some of the world-shattering truths that I have this summer, I couldn’t have been in Tennessee and in my familiar environment or with my friends. I wouldn’t have been been listening. I would have continued to be sedated by the reassuring numbness of my selfish ambitions and fears masked by control.
I have no idea what the future holds at all. But for the first time, I don’t mind, nor am I making endless lists and schemes to try to predict or control it. I’m okay being unsure because I know that that’s where the adventure truly lies: discomfort.
Some people go halfway across the world to discover who they are, I went to Texas.
(As I learned from the high feedback from last week’s post, apparently, I am the only person in the entire world who finds the Olympics boring. Unfortunately, this reveals my big secret: I’m actually a heartless, Olympics hating robot. It all makes sense now, right? Glad I got to clear that up.)
You know that scene in 500 Days of Summer when Tom is invited to Summer’s house for a dinner party (and that great Regina Spektor song “Hero” is playing) and it narrates his expectations versus reality? With less than a month left in Dallas and only a year left of undergrad, this week I’ve been having that sort of sobering, pre-quarter life crisis on both local and global scales.
Epitome of precious.
This is a pretty sweet logo though.
As a recently legal adult, I really feel the pressure of the world weighing on my shoulders. I mean, I’ve been 21 for 4 days now and so far, I’ve had to make MAJOR life decisions.
Yeah, I’m talking about the upcoming Olympics.
I think they are utterly boring. Hours upon hours of booming announcers’ commentary, similar athletic feats performed again & again, and frankly, far too much inspiration. I’m pretty sure there’s such thing as inspiration overdose and the Olympics are definitively so.
From a Communication theory view, I find it all so ironic and telling of our culture that we spend countless comatose hours sitting on the couch watching amazing human machines of professional athletes perform herculean miracles before our very eyes and yet, honestly I don’t think we care. We watch inspiration, but the sacredness of these incredible stories doesn’t affect us. Just another odds-defying win, no big deal. We’re dulled to it.
We put the spectator in “spectator sport.” (I mean, one-third of the country is obese, according to 2012 CDC stats.)
If we were really & truly inspired by these Olympians, why aren’t we trying a new sport? Or learning that instrument you’ve always wanted to play? Or taking more risks? Or just doing something other than watching 59745829 hours of Olympic coverage?!
And that’s why I find the Olympics boring. I’m proud of all the athletes achieving their dreams, but I’d rather spend time figuring out my dream than watching the Olympics. No interesting life story starts with watching TV (just ask any Olympian!)
(And everyone knows ice skating in the Winter Olympics is where it’s at. Duh. I had two posters of pro ice-skaters in my bedroom when I was growing up. That stuff is legit.)
Laaaameeee.
I’ve never understood why people have indoor potted plants. It’s far too much of a hassle to water them, make sure they have sun, and…actually, that’s probably all the steps in plant care, but still. Is there a weird oxygen deficiency in your house? Is your life so relationally empty that you tend to plants for affirmation? No? Then stop having houseplants! It’s so 1974.
However, in a way, this blog is like my potted plant…and alas, it needs some TLC! I haven’t posted about life here in Dallas for ages practically!
I mean…this counts?
Short version: I’m now married! And pregnant! It was a shotgun wedding obviously (…when in Texas…)
Long version: Mom, in case you’re reading this, let me assert that none of the above is true. Dallas is growing on me, although it definitely doesn’t give off the big city vibe I imagined it would. I guess that’s the thing with commuter cities because whenever I’m downtown I’m working all day & then by the time I get off work, I’m exhausted and have to drive home. I don’t have the energy (or freedom for that matter) to wander around downtown Dallas like I’m in a delightful cinematic montage.
I cannot believe my birthday is in less than a week! I’m excited to turn 21 because that means that not only do I have to write a new bio section for this blog, but I’ll be taken more seriously (as much as someone with a slight Minnie Mouse voice is ever taken). I’m tired of everyone saying things like “Oh, you’re 20? You’re still just a baby.” Thank you for being condescending, you older person, you.
As for work, among (many) learning experiences, I’m also realizing how to be a team player. That’s never really been my thing. I’m super competitive to a fault. I hated when my parents forced me to do team sports because I thought the other kids were the total worst.In 4th grade, I stayed a second season in soccer literally ONLY for the snacks.
Mia Hamm, I was not.
Finally in late middle school, my parents stopped making me play soccer, basketball, and volleyball when they put me in martial arts, where my main competition was myself. That was pretty successful. (I punched a girl in the face once by accident. Whoops.)
Even this past semester in my internship seminar class, I told the entire class of 40 other COMM majors that they’d work for me one day. That actually happened. What a jerk move, self!
Although ambition and competition aren’t bad, I had gotten to the point where I saw peers as opportunities to show up rather than actual people. Lots of pride, all up in here. But yeah, I’m learning to be not like that! Go team and all that! Woo!
Andddd I still go to bed mega early every night. Coworkers always asks if I have fun plans for after work and I’m like “Are you crazy? All I want to do is go home, slap on some comfy clothes, and watch Big Bang Theory until it’s light out at 10.”
I’m truly living the YOLO life here in Dallas.
JFK must have had a decoy handmaiden too.
(They pulled a Star Wars.)
Just kidding. I like conspiracy theories as much as the next person (if that next person happens to Jesse Ventura), but I just don’t get the hoopla with the JFK conspiracy. Whether or not there were 1, 2, 65 shots and/or shooters, he still died. There’s nothing mysterious about that.
Dallas has been great so far; today is my 2nd “All by myself day,” as my family left Friday morning. Dallas has a ton of places & restaurants I completely forgot existed! It’s like living in a hotter, more Western version of Atlanta. Being here reminds me yet again how much I love big cities (maybe by the end of the summer I’ll change my mind given my awful commute every morning but…) So many options and choices! I made a list of things I have to do here:
IKEA is heavenly…unless you go on a Saturday.
Sorry Nashville Sounds, but you’re lame. MLB games are where it’s at.
