Lightness

I guess it's not entirely fair that I consistently update my tumblr and neglect this blog for weeks at a time, yeah? Here's a fairly humble apology to everyone that reads this, because you guys amaze and delight me, okay? You're all shining stars and I offer you hugs/handshakes/high fives/cheek kisses/whatever your preference. That sounds mildly sarcastic but it isn't. Pat yourselves on the back.

A list of things that have made my week better:

• @NotTildaSwinton
• This song (and the entire mixtape, actually) and this song, too (though I am not a big fan of the video)
• Visiting Angelica in Orlando for pool times and pasta and car rides and frozen yogurt and long lazy chats
• Registering for Ballet I at the Patel Conservatory with Devin. It's a birthday present from my parents and I am so excited, you have no idea. Several people seem surprised by my "sudden" interest in dance but! This interest is not sudden! I have always loved dance and wanted to learn, but when you're above the age of five you suddenly realize that most beginners classes are for people that age and under and dance classes are kind of expensive and what if you're bad at it and oh, man, a whole cornucopia of things.
• Becca and Chelsea because they are the best
• Exciting potential medical developments
• Good jokes
• My fast-approaching birthday (June 3rd, y'all; save the date)

All good things. Sometimes I make lists inside of my head of pleasant things like that, or just anything at all that's at least a tiny bit interesting. You know what's weird? I often feel like I don't know a lot of concrete facts about myself. Not a lot of things I can just spit out in bulleted list format. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, maybe; I doubt there's any interesting person (not that I'm claiming to be interesting) out there who can describe themselves quickly and easily via bullet points. Still: I'm always a bit in awe of people who know their favorite song and their favorite color and their favorite shirt, who have bucket lists, who know their pet peeves and what they normally dream about. I feel like I only ever know a fact for a brief amount of time. For the past few days I've been especially fixated on collecting a bunch. I keep meaning to make a physical list, since keeping track in my head doesn't actually work, what with my memory not being a steel trap or whatever the proper expression is. I think it's mind, not memory, but memory is what we're focused on here so we're allowing me to make minor changes to popular expressions, 'kay? Getting back on track with the whole list theme: I'm about to hit you with some Fun Facts™ about me, Hope:

• I cannot stand sleeping next to windows at night. I hate walking into my kitchen, even. No. Bad. Terrible. It just freaks me out. I've no idea why. I can sleep in a room with a window; my bedroom has one. I could handle maybe being in a third floor building with a window. I am fond of windows. I just... I always feel like someone's gonna shoot me or be watching and we're gonna leave this alone now because it's 3AM and we all have our irrational fears, right?
• My favorite song is Marching Bands Of Manhattan. I made this claim once and I've stuck to it since. I just really, really love this song, and Death Cab is my favorite band, and I capitalize all of the words in song titles because I'm a lunatic and that's how I like to organize my iTunes. In all caps. In case you were wondering.
• I prefer nausea over a cold, probably. I just really despise being unable to breathe properly.
• Roller coasters give me migraines.
• I really and truly admire virtually every member of my family for some reason or another.
• At one point, I really wanted to be a psychiatrist. There are occasions on which I still think this is a good idea.
• I, like virtually ever other member of a social networking site, worry that I have a very boring sort of internet voice that strikes people as exceedingly unappealing and therefore will never garner any decent amount of attention and will continually disappoint readers everywhere that don't feel bound by familial loyalty.
• I probably am extremely boring and only find myself interesting because I talk to myself on a regular basis and if I didn't think I was the least bit entertaining, I would've cut out my own tongue by now, and word on the street is that's a really unpleasant procedure.

I could go on for days, but I really ought to be getting some shut-eye (I really like that word/phrase (?)), and there are other blog posts to blab about myself in, yeah? Stay hungry and classy and beautiful and all of those other things, folks.

Oh, and here's a few photos to tide you over until I get around to wearing real clothes and going out in actual public again:

The manicure I gave myself today; it took me an actual eternity.

The last outfit I documented in my dorm room. Shirt: Old Navy.

Shorts: Vintage; sandals: American Eagle

Bracelet: Gifted (Thanks, Aunt Christine)

The manicure that I was not so fond of but wore all the way through, anyway (my toes were blue with pink polka dots)

Honey Pie

The thing about people is that we think we can solve our problems based on set formulas prescribed by other people. Which is complete crap, because surprise: we're people and not math books and life is really hard and calculus is hard, too, but at least there are sometimes answers in the back and calculators are programmed to do things like long division for you.

An example: I thought that coming home would solve my problems for me. And alright, no, I wasn't convinced; I had that niggling feeling deep down that I wasn't really escaping anything by changing the scenery. I know better by now than to think that traveling seven hours south is going to erase any lingering doubt or feelings of inadequacy. I can't shed self-consciousness like a skin and bury it in the ground like I occasionally (okay, often) want to.

Another example (and this is a general statement based off a number of observations and not an attack on any individual, because I know people get anxious when you start addressing issues that might be considered relevant to their current situations; kind of like how nearly everyone can see themselves in their horoscopes if they look hard enough): the way, after a break-up, so many people think they can set themselves a recovery date. You're sitting there telling yourself that because you don't want to feel miserable, because you're afraid of feeling miserable, that you just won't. You'll throw yourself into your work, into a bunch of different projects, into spending time with your family or driving your car around until you run out of gas or obsessively cleaning your house or whatever the hell comes your way, and you'll be fine in a month.

Which is total and complete bull.

The thing about people is that they have all of these pesky emotions and neuroses and they're messy and unorganized. The thing about people is that they watch a lot of television and read a lot of books and see a lot of advertisements and well-thought-out arguments and they think, "Jesus, I am not together! I am not the same as Character A!" and then they try to shave off all of the bits that won't fit into that mould. And sometimes you just want to stop and scream, "NO!"

All sorts of things develop from people trying to model their lives after these unattainable images of SUPPOSED-TO-BEs. All sorts of really hideously awful things. Eating disorders, suicides, broken windows and ripped up books and burned photographs and really, really awful haircuts. And so far wading through the ocean of societal pressures and THE AMERICAN DREAM!! and wants and wishes that other people have for me in conjunction with the anxieties and issues of the people closest to me has been really bizarre and complicated, and sometimes I just want to sit in my backyard on the trampoline and drink iced coffee or stay up until 5AM talking to my mother, or fold other people's socks while watching Luther, or ride Montu six times in a row until my migraine is so bad that I feel like I'm going to throw up.

So, even though people still sleep with people they shouldn't and throw up their meals when they really need the nutrition and burn themselves on purpose and wear pants that give them serious muffin tops, and even though going home hasn't rid me of my preoccupation with the Fear That I Am Going to Fail at Living Life and Therefore Should Not Risk Trying Anything New blah blah blah mentality that I seem to have developed in the absence of my mom's steamed broccoli (why is she the only person on earth who can cook good broccoli every time?), I feel really pleased with the idea that I can now do those things.

The thing about people, I guess, is that even though we run ourselves into the ground trying to accomplish the impossible, we sometimes get it right, and sometimes it's all just really beautiful.

Daily Outfit

Scarf: Zara; belt: Gifted

Tunic: Urban Outfitters; jeans: American Eagle

Shoes: Kohl's

Probably gonna have to fix the bottoms soon; my advice is to invest in shoes, you guys (ie: DON'T follow my example)

Some gratuitous face time (and some lovely sun in the background, despite it being mad cold today)

Also: the close-up of my nails that I meant to post yesterday but didn't; it took me ages to figure out exactly how I wanted to paint them and ended up settling on this

Daily Outfit

Sunday:

Top: Vintage (Thanks, mom); sweatpants: Gap Body

Tried to get a picture of the cute little tie at the back but black is difficult

Sandals: Target

Necklace: Swarovski (Thanks, Joseph)

Wednesday:

Shirt: Gifted (Thanks, Grandma); belt: Urban Outfitters

Dress: Forever 21; sandals: Urban Outfitters

Today:

Shirt: Urban Outfitters; skirt: Urband Outfitters (Thanks, Grandma)

The back of my shirt (it's mesh up top) and the worst lighting ever

Sweater: American Eagle

Shoes: Vans

What Do I Know?

Things about today that were good:

• Starbucks: java chip frappuccino and blueberry muffin
• Late night spaghetti dinner
• Room painting plans
• Nathan finding my wallet (bless)
• Devin and Imaani being sweet, loving angels
• New music
• Outfit planning
• All of my sisters looking their fiercest for our final chapter meeting of the semester

Things about today that were okay:

• Writing some of an essay
• Giving in to the temptation of Twitter
• Work (I got another pledge: proof that miracles happen)
• The weather (sun: good, wind: no just no)
• Marginal improvement in Scramble With Friends

Things about today that were bad:

• Becca and Lisa not needing calendars for next semester
• Wanting to wear my ring but not knowing where it is
• The sink being backed up because my IQ becomes steadily lower the longer I breathe Georgia air
• General lack of organization
• Unpainted toenails
• My throat hurting
• Apathy

The closer I get to the close of the semester, the more I want to just collapse. This whole semester has been me regressing in terms of being able to handle anything at all: I forget when I've showered, whether I've washed my face, where my Petrel pass is, where I last put my glasses. I forget appointment dates and assignments and whether I've answered people's text messages. I get confused trying to walk places, pausing mid-stride and thinking, "Shouldn't I be going around the other way? It'd be faster." I've spent a lot of time crying in bathrooms or my dorm room when it's empty; I started crying on stage during the Singer's concert, even, and during Jess and Leila's initiation.

The last time I went home, I had lunch with my grandma, and in response to a question about whether I liked Oglethorpe, she said, "She seems to like it. I don't know; sometimes her blog seems a little...," and I guess it's true. I can understand how this blog might make it look as though I'm desperately unhappy here. But to tell you the truth: I don't know how to differentiate between the place and the person. I'll admit, I've been happier the times I've gone home. But the times I've gone home have been vacations: fewer worries, fewer obligations, fewer restrictions. It's not the same. If I were to live and go to school at home, it could be I'd be the same wreck there that I am here. I don't know how to answer that question without actually taking the Mythbusters approach of just living the experience. And I can't exactly afford to go flip-flopping between schools; which I'm not convinced is even possible? You can't just try on lifestyles like they're pairs of shoes.

Still, it's been suggested that I might be happier living at home. It's been suggested that I might be happier, attending a different university. And I honestly don't know how to reply to that kind of suggestion. I might feel exceptionally lonely right now--especially with the promise of friends and family back home dangling right in front of my eyes--and I might be upset, thinking that I've possibly managed to alienate a possible friend (however surprised I might have been, initially, by the idea) just as some of my few others are preparing to graduate, but I don't know that it's a permanent thing. My mood is incredibly malleable. Mercurial. I have trouble basing my decisions on it, and therefore most often resort to logic, and so far, the logic of my staying vs. my going looks a bit like this:

• Money???
• Who else would want me
• Tri Sigma?
• Plans I've set up already! Living in the house with Dona! Singers!
• My family though
• Devin! Lauren!
• Living on my own is cool beans (sometimes?) because independence
• Jobs
• Good food and games

And man, I dunno. It's funny how I really like to make lists, but I rarely ever use them to help me accomplish things. I don't write to-do lists, I don't write pro-and-con lists. Maybe I should start. Maybe the black-and-white of pen and paper will make all of my thoughts more black-and-white, more cut-and-dry, straight-and-narrow, fast-and-easy. The ultimate aim is simplicity, right?

I don't know, but the last thing anyone needs to be doing is sitting up at 4 AM contemplating her life choices and reasons for doing things, right? Heavy hearts have trouble maintaining a good sleeping rhythm. Ignore that I made that fact up.

Here's to hoping you're all currently dreaming sweet dreams. Goodnight.

Daily Outfit

So, here's yesterday:

Sweater: American Eagle (Thanks, Aunt Margaret); shorts: Urban Outfitters

Scarf: Kohl's; ring: Target

And scarf free!

And dancin'!

Sandals: Target (I need to paint my toenails, forreal)

And today:

One of the eighty-six outfits that I wore for five seconds today

Because sometimes you need to play dress-up

Come Around

Today's motto has been (drumroll):

Props to Becca and Daily Pep Talk From a Best Friend

And so far, it's served me extremely well. I urge all of you to take it and save it for when you need it. I did.

Other good things about today:

• Impromptu sisterhood outside of the library
• Lovely weather
• Soft sweaters
• An embrace from Justin Sabree
• Actually getting to laugh a bit at work (Thank you, Danny)
• Ice cream
• A good hair day
• Lisa ensuring that I woke up to my alarm because she's an angel
• Morning texting with Becca
• Ali: "Your boyfriend looks adorable today"
• Nice men from England (Good luck finding a job!)
• Black and white French films
• Milk out of a mug
• Nutella out of the jar
• Dona and I are officially living together!
• Imaani is a peach
• Callie is still ridiculous
• Skyping with Angelica and Matt in the wee hours of the morning
• A lovely e-mail from Dr. Terry
• Delaney, makin' a sandwich like Delaney does
• Heather bein' presh
• Hugs from Lilly and Catherine
• Baby socks from Karen
• Ehre sei dir, Christe and Daniel Pinkham's Wedding Cantata (seriously you guys please go to the Singer's Concert, I love singing this stuff)
• John Cage and his 4'33"

Allow me to elaborate a bit on that last bullet point. So John Cage is a composer, right? But he's a revolutionary composer of the twentieth century, so he's totally cray, because he's experienced all of these different styles and types of music and now he's sticking things into the strings of a piano in order to produce a ton of different percussive sounds. But that's not the point. The point is that John Cage was big on Eastern religion and philosophy and wrote 4'33" to reflect the idea that music is something that humans perceive, right? They accept something as music because that's how they've been conditioned to accept it and if you take silence but you call it music; if you designate a specific amount of time for only that silence, if you have a man sit at a piano and do nothing but open and close the lid between each "movement"... What are you proving? A whole bunch of beautiful things, okay. You are proving that I want to kiss you on the mouth because that is brilliant and I am in love with you for it.

I am in love with today. Despite any of the mess-ups, despite changing outfits one hundred times, despite eating an entire bag of popcorn, despite my period (TMI? Whatever), despite insurance companies being hard to deal with, despite people being unemployed. I am absolutely, wholly, and irrevocably in love with today and I kiss it goodbye with a very satisfied mouth.