Daily Outfit

The only photos I managed to get of this past week:

My hair behaving nicely (a small miracle)

Sandals: American Eagle

Delightful maxi dress: Urban Outfitters

Our brand new Tri-Sigma shirt!

I'm fond of it, despite the weird fabric

Two of my most trusty wardrobe options, brought to you by Levi's and American Eagle (more like American Angel, let's be real; that store is like a religion to me, I can't understand how they have so thoroughly pervaded my wardrobe)

And the children on their own, 'cause sometimes it's good to be reminded of childhood

Something Bigger, Something Better

On the list of great things that I read about today: "A vaccine that can train cancer patients' own bodies to seek out and destroy tumor cells has been developed by scientists."

On the list of not-so-great things I was told on the phone today: My family went to a festival today in celebration of Easter, and as my mother was trying to take a photo of my sister in front of a mural, she tripped over a low cement wall and hit her head on a palm tree. She had to go to the ER to get her ear glued to her head. On the plus side, my mom was laughing and my father sent me a picture as confirmation. I keep getting this bizarre mixture of beautiful and dreadful news from my family. Like a reminder of the lovely tossed salad that is life.

Or whatever. That metaphor makes a ton of sense in my sushi-and-Starbucks-stupefied brain.

I'm sitting in a chair in Starbucks trying to write an essay on feminism and my identity as a female while listening to Amanda Blank and Rosi Golan, which is another really odd combination. Today is about contrast, I guess.

Lately it's hard to make anything I write sound elegant and cohesive. I feel like my every step recently is more like the step of a fawn learning to walk than the step of anything more graceful, with grace being the ultimate goal, here. We all want to live life beautifully like the subjects of a painting or the characters in a book, right?

But (obviously) life isn't a painting or a book and sometimes, we have to get over it. Even if it's hard, even if we have to go to counseling (at some point--I may or may not have slept through my first appointment and have an apology e-mail sitting on my mental to-do list) and drink too much coffee and cry four times in one day.

It's taking a lot of convincing, but I'm coming around to believing that these things are okay. That coping is just as acceptable as breezing through--and it's extremely rare that anyone breezes through.

Time lapse: I'm obviously no longer sitting in a chair at Starbucks, 'cause it's 1:02 AM. I never finish my blog posts when I mean to; things always come up. I'm doing my laundry: sheets and a bright load. I'm at the halfway point and it's nice. I love having clean sheets and more outfit options. I've also done my dishes, and as soon as I'm finished with this laundry I'm gonna vacuum. I think this essay is going to be really nice once it's cleaned up, and I've gone through some e-mails and sent out at least one of the few I need to send, and I've figured out a way to get some more service in before the year comes to an end.

This week is gonna be good, guys. I just have to keep believing it.

Maybe Be Alright

Life's been a little rough so far this week, but you know what? I'm learning to deal with it. And if learning to deal with it involves hysterically texting my mother and writing a ton of e-mails and eating cookie dough and watching Supernatural in a tent with Heather and Delaney and forcing myself to get exercise and making promises to avoid eating cookie dough in future, so be it.

I was going to make myself a list on Monday, as a sort of reminder of the good things to remember while I fought my way through this week, but so far I haven't needed a physical list; all of the items I would've included have managed to manifest themselves.

Example: Joe texted me today about his allergies, and he sent me a link to "I'm Alive" by Celine Dion. And those are the kind of stupid things that make me think, "Yeah, Hope, he's a winner."

Other things that would have been included: My sisters. Delaney's growing attachment to Supernatural, compliments on my scar, and general Delaney-ness. Heather being unbearably cute. My mother loving me despite my being a little bit crazy and responding calmly to my wild messages, despite probably wanting to shake me a little bit. Melina's desire to have me home for Easter. Dona asking me to run the three-legged race with her. Nanette Ennis being a really nice lady. The sunshine. Sticky rice. Sweat. Sigma chants. Ritz crackers. Determination. Literary criticism. Karen wishing that I updated my blog more often.

And you know what, I could write more, but I think it's nice to end on that positive note, yeah? That, and I can't stop yawning. Goodnight, noises everywhere.

Daily Outfit

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

Sandals: Target; broken toenail: Ali (I love you)

Totally nuts treble clef necklace: Gifted (Thanks, Aunt Christine)

Cardigan: Target; overalls: Some surf shop in Flagler

Camisole: Gifted (Thanks, Grandma); tank: American Eagle

Pin: National Naval Aviation Museum in Pensacola, FL

Pressure

WHADDUP, Y'ALL.

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.

For your listening pleasure this evening:

1. One Thing (Acoustic) - One Direction
2. Tiny Vessels - Death Cab For Cutie
3. Pressure - U.T.R.B.
4. Satin In A Coffin - Modest Mouse
5. Crystalised (Cover) - Callie & Matt
6. You Make Me Sick - P!nk
7. Beat The Devil's Tattoo - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
8. Who'd Have Known - Lily Allen
9. Leave My Body - Florence & The Machine
10. Renegade - Styx

Daily Outfit

Sweater: LOFT, shorts: Forever 21

Sandals: American Eagle, polish: Rimmel

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).

Spoken Softly / Said In A Whisper

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.