Here are a few of the outfits I've missed out on posting, in order from oldest to newest, since I've been busy being ridiculous outside of the internet (or something):
Tank (?): American Eagle
Jeans: American Eagle; sandals: Target (Thanks, Joe)
French braid courtesy of my wonderful mother
Shirt: Hollister (Thanks, Ma); dress: American Eagle
For the temporally challenged: it's Friday night, and it's 10:11 on a Friday night, and I'm waiting on my towels and my white load to be done in the dryer. I'm sitting on my carpet, next to my to-be-washed dark load and bright load, getting ready to paint my fingernails using this weird technique I found on Pintrest. I really hope it works out, 'cause I'm not a big fan of nail polish messes.
This week has been a somewhat eventful week here in Hopeland. 'Cause, y'know, I got a job.
Sort of. It's a temporary gig as a student caller to raise money for Oglethorpe, but hey: the point is that I'm going to be paid to do it. Which is a good thing. A great thing.
I'm also going to be an Orientation Leader (those capital letters are there so you'll know what I'm saying when I start using the abbreviation OL, because abbreviations are cool) for the class of 2016, which is pretty exciting, yeah? I'm excited. I don't get paid to do that, but I do get a free t-shirt! And I (hopefully) get to serve as a mentor for Dr. Ray's fresh focus class. I'm holdin' out hope.
Anyway, like I said: Friday night. And I'm excited NOT because of my laundry, but because I've barely seen Becca or Chelsea all week, and tonight Chi Phi's having a party. Which means dancin' with two of my favorite ladies. And let's be real: dancing is on my top five list of Greatest Activities of All Time (no, that isn't a real list that I have, and no, I have no idea what the other numbers would be), and I definitely watched Save the Last Dance earlier this week. I don't care how impossibly cheesy and ridiculous that movie is. It's one of my favorites. Also, I'm an absolute sucker for Julia Stiles. Don't ask me why; I can't explain.
Anyway.
That movie is inspiring, alright? And it makes me want to listen to You Make Me Sick and dance around my room like a fool.
Speaking of music (yeah, alright, roll with it), I'm also engaged in making a long-delayed playlist for the beautiful and brilliant Leslie, who happens to be one of my dearest friends. I hardly ever talk to her recently because she's busy, what with being fabulous (fabulous people always have all of these "things" to do, and "people" to see and ugh). I figure eventually I'll just make everyone I know a special playlist and I'll feel better for being such a ridiculous friend to have to put up with all of the time.
No, shut up, that was a joke. I'm awesome.
So far this playlist is a little cray, but I know the title and what the first song is gonna be! I think!
A little preview: Black Magic. That's what it's gonna be called. And (for right now) the first song is Beat The Devil's Tattoo. And I'm excited about it. And that's the end.
Belt: It was lying on my bed when I got here and I'm totally claiming it, ring: Gifted (Thanks, mom)
Look at the detail on this sweater. It was on sale at LOFT for $18, you guys. My mom took me shopping and I saw Jesus' face in this sweater (not really).
I keep meaning to update this blog, and I keep coming up with reasons to postpone an update: I'm tired, I have nothing truly remarkable to say, whatever happened to me posting my outfits, etc.
But every once in a while, I get tired of my excuses, yeah? So here I am, despite my realizing that it's 3 AM and that means I'm going to wake up ridiculously late tomorrow and isn't that a shame, because tomorrow is an entire day for which I have nothing at all scheduled.
I know I'm only eighteen and now might not be the time anyone older than me would consider the appropriate time to think, "Man, you gotta savor days without plans while you can!" but, well. I'm thinking it. And I can remember being younger and being unable to understand exactly why my parents wanted nothing more than to lie on the couch and fall asleep watching terrible movies when we could be doing fun things; going places, seeing people. Now, I understand their feelings perfectly.
I went to the dentist today. I woke up at six forty five, got up, peed, then laid myself back down in bed and waited until my mother actually walked in to wake me. I've never eaten a bowl of Frosted Flakes so quickly in my life, but I was surprisingly unruffled when the water cut off three quarters of the way through my shower. I brushed my teeth in the self-conscious way I'm sure everyone does prior to a dentist appointment, trying to anticipate all of the mistakes I could be making.
I hate going to the dentist. Not that I undervalue the service or the luxury of clean, healthy teeth; only that I hate having to watch news coverage and ceiling tiles and peripheral hair and profiles and scrubs for hours, my mouth an alien landscape being probed by sharp, uncomfortable metal tools that make me impatient. I am fine for the first hour or so, but then I want out; the little tube sucking out water and excess saliva starts to irritate me and I want to spit.
On the positive end of things... I've begun a blog post. Returning to the (at least slightly) negative end, I'm now yawning so frequently that t's becoming difficult to type, so... It might be best if I were to leave it here for tonight.
I leave you with this link as a sort of apology. Hope you're dreaming sweet dreams.
Fun fact: Club Monaco gives a 20% discount to students. All you gotta do is ask.
Fun fact number two: There are personality traits associated with blood types, like horoscopes. Or so the little informational sheet at the blood drive snack table said. That's interesting, right? Apparently I'm creative and adventurous and should donate platelets and some other things that I can't remember as exactly. I'm B+.
Fun fact number three: The bandaid on the middle finger of my left hand is making it hard to type.
That last fact wasn't so fun, Hope.
Sometimes you're really picky, you know that?
Later this evening there's a jazz concert I'm required to attend. I'm hoping it's marvelous and not too incredibly long because as much as I enjoy concerts, I really enjoy being able to dance and move around and if you get up in the middle of a jazz concert and start dancing around I bet you someone gets mad, yeah?
I dunno, I've never been to a jazz concert. Maybe the conventions are six shades of crazy and all of the ushers are going to be wearing neon socks and wide, manic smiles that say, "DANCE, HOPE! DANCE!"
But I'm doubtful.
It's been a while since I've given blood. They had me answer all of the questions on a computer myself this time. I paused for a while to thank my lucky stars that none of my relatives have ever suffered from Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. One, that is hard to spell (I think I misspelled it, actually, in the text message I sent to Joe while I was waiting in the booth). Two, that is, like, human mad cow. Ugly stuff, you guys. Ugly stuff. And just think: even if your day has been absolutely hideous, like maybe you were giving blood and you had some sort of wild accident and blood got all over your shirt, and then your cat died, and maybe your grandmother cut you out of the will because the only thing she really liked you for was your cat or your history of having never stained an article of clothing, you can always stop after all of that and think, Hey, at least I don't have a transmissible spongiform encephalopathy!
Unless you do. In which case, I'm really sorry. But like, 1 in 1 million people have Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. And about 100 or so people in the entire world have fatal familial insomnia, and you have to eat the brain of a deceased person from New Guinea or whatever to get kuru, and you have to be a deer to get chronic wasting disease. So you're probably good.
My bed is mad comfortable right now, but I should probably get up and wash my sheets, 'cause they're not the cleanest at the moment.
And anyway, I don't want to be caught off guard by the time. No, "Oh, is it 7:30? Goodness me, nearly concert time!" Especially with Lisa's birthday party being tonight. I'm probably going to want a shower. Nothing says, "Happy birthday; you're great!" quite like washing your hair for someone.
Also: Maybe you're still mourning the death of The Hush Sound, which is totally understandable, but whether you are or not you should give Greta Morgan's new band, Gold Motel, a listen. 'Cause they're like... if The Hush Sound and Best Coast had a baby. So, y'know. They make you feel good.
I like Starbucks, bookstores, online shopping, disposable cameras, nail polish, nail files, socks, shoes, slow songs, dancing, style blogs, fried rice, dresses, sunsets, and swimming. I don't like litter, rudeness, arrogance, violence, cold showers, cold weather, large amounts of raw tomato, or bed times. I'm an ENTP, a Tri Sigma, and an English major at Oglethorpe University. I believe in every day miracles and fairytales.
