I Am Terribly Lucky.

I know I've spun this kind of post before, but as the holidays fast approach, I just can't help myself. Explanation time.

I am terribly lucky. I am scarily blessed. I have a family, a family who loves me, who supports me, who knows me more than anyone ever has or will know me. They know my deepest regrets, my biggest flaws, my greatest triumphs and my proudest moments. They love me because of it, sometimes despite it.

There are people out there who are lonely and alone, whose holidays are nothing more than chance to catch up on TV, a chance to splurge on the good wine, a short break from work or responsibilities. I am beyond glad I am not one of those people. I have people to look forward to, all year every year that I love more than I thought I could love. I have people to make me laugh, to make me cry, to humble me, to remind me of my flaws (with the greatest of love, naturally). I have people to answer to, someone to call at 2 a.m. when no one else in the world would take my call. It gives me legitimate chills to think of the greatest people that make up my family.

Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I take it for granted, amidst a raging battle when no one will back down, when tempers flare and pride will not take leave. But then my heart swells and I remember that no matter what I do, I cannot talk them out of their love for me. Believe me, I've tried. Love is a rarity in this world, made small and unique by indifference and hate, so the fact that I have it, exponentially so, makes me the luckiest girl in the world. I get to have love, unconditionally, as long as I live. What did I do to deserve such a blessing?

We are all human, try as we might to persuade ourselves otherwise. My biggest fear is that they will forget, that my family will break and lose the love. Yes, I know, it is an irrational fear to the max, but one that occasionally gets me at my moments of weakness. Fortunately, I am young and have decades ahead to be proven wrong, with my family ever by my side.

I am frighteningly lucky and I would never, ever change that.

Deal With The Hand You're Dealt

Here's the thing.

Lately, I've gotten the sneaking suspicion that I am, in fact, not a nice person. Maybe I'm not sweet, maybe I'm not good. I've always thought my tough, sardonic outer person was hiding the sensitive, saccharine girl who I really am. The person I act like was merely a wall to keep others (friends, acquaintances, teachers, family, EVERYONE) from hurting me.

As it turns out, that might not be the case.

I'm beginning to think that the deadpan humor mixed with a certain amount of apathy towards the insane emotions of others (namely females, as it happens) has burned the sweetness out of me to the core.

Let me explain.

As I've no doubt mentioned, I'm the president of an organization this year, something I was looking so so forward to. I am a leader, I've been told this by countless people, and I am certain they are right, mostly because I am certain I am not a follower. As the semester goes on, though, I'm realizing I am much more Machiavellian than I ever realized. Ever since I realized the Prince had something with that whole fear over love thing, I never thought I would be the one to practice it. But there's something about watching a girl cry over something you said to her followed by not caring and glancing at the clock instead of blushing to really hit a point home.

Even with the other organizations and classes I'm involved in, I'm realizing I am much more the mumble a joke under her breath, role my eyes at the weaker followers and strive to hold a position of power type of person. Therefore, I'm attracted to those who are like me, cultivating many new friends, than those who I wanted to be like, the simpering fools who focus on their feelings than the constructive (and yes it's always constructive) criticism I just gave them. The bottom line is that I am not nice anymore, maybe I never was, but I know what is right and what is wrong, which is good enough for me, and at the very least, I am never, ever fake or untrue to who I am. Not anymore.

So I'm mean. I'm impatient. I'm what many would call a bitch. But, I get the job done and I do it well. That is something that can go on my resume.

Oh, Poor Atlas

I think, I think this is what it feels like to bite off more than you can chew. I do believe this is what being overwhelmed feels like. Hear me out.

It's become a night and day kind of deal that I'm emailing my officers, texting Student Foundation members, finishing papers, studying, endless studying, and searching for the ever evasive down time. I literally went to go pick up my roommate 20 minutes early the other day just so I could sit in my car by myself and do nothing. I know, it's weird, but this is what it's come to.

Classes are laughably impossible, extra-curriculars are starting to drown me and I drink so much coffee, my hands are always shaking. My advisor/professor/savior is constantly asking me if I'm okay because I seem a little stressed and I either manically laugh or just brush it off, depending on whether or not I'm looking at my to-do list.

Alright, whining aside, I think I really like this. Sure, I've tried to get out of every major events I've been asked to attend, I had to buy a blazer and had my first day off in weeks yesterday, but there's still that thrill of perpetually moving, being the one in charge and learning learning learning every day. I'm excited for the changes that are directly because of me, for the events in which I will meet the cream of the crop. I'm friends with some of the most important people on campus, am one of those people not to toot my own horn.

Of course, it figures that my best year will be my last at Texas State, but I don't care. Besides having little time to think about graduation and life post-undergrad, I just can't focus on the future right now, as ostrich-sticking-head-in-the-sand as that is. The reality is that my present is too fun, too exhausting and too demanding to worry about what will come in May. So as I finish up a Spanish composition and field questions about who is bringing the sodas to the Comm Club meeting tomorrow and organizing a study session for Rhetorical Criticism, I revel in what my days are filled with and just enjoy the ride.

Till the Sun Turns Black

So I'm sitting in a coffee shop, waiting for some girls from my rhetorical criticism class for a study group. Thus, a blog should be produced. Well, at least before a study guide is.

I suppose the reason I haven't been posting much is that I haven't had a lot to say. There's lots going on (last week alone I met 5 famous people. Crazy.) I've been insanely over the moon about the weather change, it's intense. I never thought I'd miss a season as much as I miss winter, but there you go.

Something interesting that's happening with the weather change is how much I miss Australia. I miss it every single day, often more than once, and I want to go back so badly. I had said I didn't want to go back to Sydney, but maybe Melbourne and Adelaide, but I miss my home in Sydney. I miss walking down to the cafe for pain au chocolate and a latte. I miss taking the bus. I miss my crappy, little hostel with its warm bed and odd inhabitants. Nothing like an overcast sky and cool breeze to make me miss winter in Sydney.

School is school, I can't stop telling people it's crazy, which is the truth. I've never had to push myself this hard and have never wanted to do less work. Senioritis is real, except this time it's the opposite; I do not want to leave school, so hard work and doing well only means the minutes until graduate come all the more quickly. Therefore, I avoid all. So far...it's not working.

Alright, the girls are here, so I should go. But, the bottom line I'm selling is that I'm crazy, but I'm really happy. So there's that.

Make a Choice

In my creative writing class, the number one critique I have for every single story is "Make a decision." About perspective, about punctuation, about tense, it's all about making the decision and going with it, regardless of the consequences. Sure your story might still suck, but at least you had the back bone to defend it until the last period.

Well, ever the metaphorical conversationalist, I decided to bring this up when having an intense heart-to-heart with my roommate this evening. She's been, well, she's deep in a situation and can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, so instead she stands still, awaiting for the switch to be flipped for her. You can understand how this could frustrate her loved ones, especially one who is as assertive as myself. The conversation ended pleasantly, but I like to think she couldn't ignore the steel behind my sweet-lined analogies.

More often than not, it's the thing we don't want to hear: You have to make a choice, you can't just stand there waiting for the sky to fall. You can move forward, you can move back, just as long as you do something. Perhaps this is my naivete speaking, but when faced with a school year that is wholeheartedly devoted to some of the most important decisions I've made thus far, it can seem so much bigger than that. It's our lives. If we can't make up our minds, how can we expect anyone else to do it?

Nobody likes making decisions. It's so very easy to choose wrong, even in the odds are ever in your favor. Between yes or no, the gray area is boundless. But this is the life we have. We chose freedom, we chose free will. That should have been the red flag that decision-making would always be a burden over a glory.

I sit here, ignoring my Spanish notes, facing my life and wanting nothing more than to bury my head in the sand, pull the covers over my head. It's sounds more perfect than you could imagine. How could I ever choose between careers or paths when crawling back to my comfy college classes is so much more choice? However, I fancy myself a realist and I know without a shadow of a doubt that when May comes, I will have done the unthinkable and made my decision. Because I can't not. I'm too stubborn to fall to ground in defeat and have spent way too much time poring over flashcards and obscure theorists to not have the life I want.

So my friends flounder in their loves lives, their school lives, even their social lives and put off decisions with GRE tests and law school applications. Perhaps the act of not choosing is nothing more than the greatest decision of all, but the bottom line I constantly draw is that the decision will get made regardless of my actions; I would just rather have a say in what happens to me than not. That, above all else, is what makes me memorize the pasado subjuntivo and move on with my life.

All in.

I've somewhat been dreading this post.

It's been a tumultuous few weeks of school and life in general, after a summer of sheer chaos so I guess you can say whatever few moments of down time I've had have been spent lounging on the couch, gloriously and guiltlessly enjoying my new cable.

However, when I came home from school, I decided to bite the bullet, despite having no free time, a to do list that is comically long and an embarrassing amount of laundry to do.

Mostly, because I want to rant about my classes. It's fun!

Interdisciplinary: Kerouac--This one is super require by my major, which is why every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, I spend an hour listening to the MOST pretentious, self-important lovers of Kerouac spout their ideals about the Beat generation in very loud voices. Ugh. Well, I do like the professor and I think he likes me, too because I am the only person willing to argue a point (shock, I know) and can actually back it up.

Creating Writing: WAIT, WHAT!?! I HAVE TO WRITE FICTION!??!? I was genuinely floored. And what sucks more is that there was always this part of me that kept being a writer/novelist as a possibility, in my back pocket. And then, whammy, turns out I am not creative. At all. We have 3 creative stories due this semester and I can't do anything about it. Crap.

Spanish IV: this is a joke, right? I don't know Spanish whatsoever. This will be my ending. Circlin' the drain, people.

Intercultural Communication: We had a geography quiz of America and Canada yesterday. That sums up the class pretty well. Luckily, my professor is the Comm Club advisor and he adores me, so we're good.

Rhetorical Criticism: I know nothing about this subject at all. There's no foundation, not even for the criticism part it turns out. It's philosophical and complex and multi-layered and also necessary for graduation. I had the professor for public speaking last semester, but this will not help me. My palms are starting to sweat just thinking about the upcoming work and my shocking ability not to find the easy way out at all.

Silly-ness aside, there is a deep-set panic within me about this semester; it's the slow ride to the end that turns out to be a heck of a lot harder and scarier than I could have thought. Graduation looms and not a day goes by that I don't have a minor panic attack about it. Fortunately, classes and various demands of clubs and work push the nightmarish thoughts out of my pretty little head.

Silly-ness back, I'm having fun! I've made some cool friends, there's huge interest in the club that I'm president of, and my professors are now my friends. There's tons of work to be done and I am eager to do it (so far). Speaking of which, I have emails to send, a family tree to make for Intercultural and On the Road to read. Oy. But baby, I'm back!

Hit the brakes.

Yesterday, we went to our favorite local cafe down the street, but were too tired to walk so we took the bus. I pressed the button to alert the driver that we needed to get off and instead of stopping at the next stop, he slammed on his brakes and we all almost fell forward. It was intense.

So yeah, that cold trickle of fear that soon I have to leave this city, and face the very real possibility that I might never come back, has started to be at the forefront of my mind. Tonight, on the bus ride home from the aquarium, I kept glancing into all these bars, restaurants, even mini marts that I have yet to explore. Granted, most of them probably aren't even worth more than that glance, but I keep fearing for the lost possibilities of what they could be worth. Even going down Glebe Point Rd, the street the hostel is on, there are a hundred reminders of how this city can be given proper justice in a mere month.

That's another thing that gets me about traveling, is the almost overwhelming amount of insignificance I feel whenever I venture into a new city. From a street to a nation, I feel as if I still don't know Australia and that I could spend a lifetime here and still be in the dark of so much that it holds. Then I expand that thought to everywhere else I would kill to visit; Paris, Rome, Prague, Athens, Rio de Janeiro, Cairo, Portland, Amsterdam, Moscow, Chicago, New Orleans, Bali, Capetown, and about a thousand other places I couldn't even begin to imagine. Traveling always makes me itch for more travel, but it also floods me with how very small I am compared to this world and it makes me want nothing more than to stay at home, happy in my small towns.

However, this city is now a part of me, because I have been a part of it. I have spent these last few weeks attempting to memorize everything I see to keep with me forever, because Sydney is too beautiful to forget. My hands tremble at the mere thought of never returning to Australia, but as many of my classmates say, there are too many other places to go to think about returning here. I have come to know the very depth of Australiana, and truly wish I could come back with everyone I know and love to show them how exceptional this place is.

So as people grumble, tensions and stress running high, I smile on, loving this city, this country. Missing home is evident in waiting awkwardly for the bathroom, wishing more than anything for filtered water, and a thousand other things that could hardly be called luxuries. For now, I cringe at the thought of leaving Sydney and snap one more photo, because the thousand I have just aren't enough.

This is Sydney winter.

Today is the winter solstice for Australia, well the southern hemisphere, but I feel it here. The rain has finally, finally stopped, much to the joy of most of NSW, since most of the state is flooded from it. This country is not equipped to handle so much rain.

However, it is still bitterly cold any time you step out of the sun. The sun is still harshly warm, since the lack of ozone here. The mountains were practically unbearable in its chill, although the rainforest was quite warm despite the lack of sun.

The mountains. They were...very close to being the death of me (cliffs are real, guys) but also perhaps the most uniquely beautiful thing I have ever seen. They are actually blue, due to the haze given off the eucalyptus trees covering the mountains. All the guides said how desperately they needed a bush fire, and that much was evident in the bush, which was crowded over with green, green life.

The three sisters, the three distinct rock formations that aboriginals call sisters, because myth says that their father, during a war, turned them into rocks to protect them, but died in war so they stayed as rocks forever. It was so, so strange a formation that I began to really believe that there were trapped sisters within the rocks.

I love Sydney. I love Oxford street, the book store-coffee shop-art gallery-shopping district of Sydney. I love the people here, and the fact that they love me for my Americanisms.

However, there is tension rippling throughout the group, obviously. We have been on a jam-packed schedule which leaves us little to no free time to get away from each other. Thus, there has been annoyance at the silliest things and cliques forming and breaking within 2 days. But, then we all remember we're in Australia and let it go. That is perhaps the best part of this place. It makes you remember how truly delightful it is.

I am ready to be home in 2 weeks though. I miss the most random things, like looking after kids and my bathroom. Hanging out with one of the girls from the hostel who was American made me remember how freaking lucky we all are to be American and from our homes. So I will count myself beyond lucky to be here, then be too eager the entire 24 hour travel time to see Texas.

Today.

Looking back, today was rather unremarkable. We just went to Featherdale Wildlife Preserve.

It was also the best day.

We fed kangaroos and wallabies (although I could not tell you the difference to save my life). We petted koalas. We laughed at a Tasmanian devil who would not stop running in circles. We took the train for a long time and without any tunnels. The weather was flawless, only raining for a few minutes in the morning.

We ate at the train station, unabashedly stuffing our faces with McDonald's (yeah, I know) because it was the first thing we'd eat that day. One of the girls kept drifting off on the train, only to jerk herself awake moments later. One of the boys was so hungover from last night (it was the State of Origin rugby finals) that he slept the whole way to Featherdale. I felt extremely happy to see the skyline on the way home.

I literally want a kangaroo more than anything in the whole world now. They are so cute and soft and quirky with their facial expressions and creepy human-like hands. They are so Australia that it felt so real that we're not America, if that makes any sense. It was too short a time to spend with them, feeding and petting them, helping the babies get to the food, too.

Anyway. I love Australia. I don't think I can say it enough. It is the most amazing place and everyone needs to see it.

Of all the gin joints.

So we made kind of a splash when we first arrived to our backpackers (read: hostel) because we were not only American but because we were from Texas. This hostel is somewhat off the beaten path because it's not downtown and it's a bit...local. Everyone fortunately knows Texas because of the presidents coming out of it, so there is no need to say we're American anymore because for one, our accents give that away, and for another, saying Texas is enough.

Anyway, it was very disconcerting to walk over to the kitchen for breakfast, bleary-eyed and scrounging together the free toast and cereal, to hear our accents in other people. Turns out there is a group of about 30 Americans who are touring around Australasia that are from several different states and they have stolen our thunder. Of course, we're hostel regulars now, so the shine has worn off a bit, but still.

Also, funnily enough, they are annoying to us, with their loud, American ways. I'm not saying we're typical Australians now, but this place has become home and they are like raucous house guests that won't leave us alone. Of course, as soon as they caught on that we were Americans too, they flipped and really bugged us. We told them a bit about ourselves, as you do in the kitchen, warned them that the "cinnamon" they're putting on their toast is instant coffee and booked it out of there with our breakfast.

Of course, we are obviously still tourists. When we went to Bondi, which is indescribably beautiful, what pictures I took do not do it justice, we were the only ones on the beach. Of course, it was pouring down rain and it's winter here, but still.

We have favorites here, cafes that we frequent. We have become regulars at coffee shops and gelato cafes near the hostel. Granted, they mostly remember us because of our Texas origins, but it feels nice to walk in to a foreign place and get a smile, perhaps a free croissant if we're lucky. We have taken this week and made Sydney what we need it to be: home. Well, some of us. Others still stubbornly refuse. Their loss.

So when we see tourists, bold enough to be American, we get our feathers ruffled despite the irony there. Sydney is ours now and having a big group of people remind us of our true home, it's too jarring to deal with. Perhaps it's dramatic (yes, it's terribly dramatic) but at least for me, I'll duck my head and play along with the foreigners, but know I have a slightly superior air to uphold.

Look right.

Alright let's be real. I miss Texas. I miss my family. I miss my mom. I miss Biscuit. I miss my car. I miss routines. I miss my bed. I miss L&G. I miss my apartment. I miss babysitting. I miss my friends.


But.


I love Sydney. I love late night ping pong games. I love the bitter wind whipping my hair. I love the tall, tall buildings next to original sandstone. I love Australiana. I love the Harbour. I love backpackers. I love the sights. I love the food. I love the bus. I love it here.

Let's list.

-I saw someone doing a Flat Stanley project. Universal.
-I kind of am super annoyed by most of the people on this trip. Okay, these three girls. But I'm over it.
-Aboriginals make our Native Americans look like sissies. Good lord they were treated horribly.
-This history is like nothing I have ever heard. I can't stop knowing more.
-I realize now how incredibly, incredibly, incredibly amazing my trip to the U.K. was.
-I am sosososo glad I came here when I did. I wouldn't have understood it like this.
-Ferries are the bomb. Yes.
-I prefer the Harbour Bridge to the Opera House. Upon close inspection, the Opera House is a little blah and has somewhat of a tragic history.
-It is so freaking cold here, though. If we're not in the sun, I'm shivering, no matter what I'm wearing.
-Everything is so different and so similar, it's unnerving.
-I can't stop smiling at the locals.
-I can't stop wishing everyone I've ever loved was here with me.
-My legs won't stop hurting. Mostly because I won't stop walking.
-Good god, I am sick of people checking their facebooks. Get over it.
-And skyping in class. Just stop it.
-Sorry, that just bugs me. We are in freaking Australia.
-The professor gets my humor. The list ends there.
-It's become a very clear blur, if that makes any sense. If I don't focus on a particular moment, day or place, it spins by.
-I so love it here. It makes my heart ache to think about leaving.
-Falling into my bed every night is perhaps the most supreme pleasure I've ever had.
-Green and gold are so freaking tacky together, but I can't not love it. It's everywhere.
-The Queen could not matter less here.
-That actually makes me a little sad...
-I keep trying to walk like a Sydney-ite.
-Finally being able to look right before I look left to cross the street. Yes.


There are a thousand little things throughout the days. I couldn't begin to remember them all, even though every time I sternly tell myself to do just that. Bottom line, I am very happy. I love it here. But I miss you.

I ate kangaroo today.

It was on a pizza. And it was very odd.

Honestly, it tasted delicious, but it was a bit chewy and oddly tangy in a way that made me feel like a sad little kangaroo was watching me eat it.

I legitimately love Sydney. I've only been here for 2 days and I already feel this absolute awe for this strange place that reminds me so much of America while being so unique I've never seen anything like it. It's so beautiful and so different and so surprising, around every corner that I often find myself walking around with my mouth open, just staring.

Today all we did was walk. We walked to downtown Sydney, we walked across the Harbor Bridge, we walked to the Fish Market. Although we did get to take the train and use the bus a little bit, I preferred walking since pictures taken from a moving vehicle just plain suck, but jet lag was rampant for some. Luckily, I didn't feel much it too much except for being a little loopy yesterday. I did take a bajillion photos as well, which meant that I was either trailing behind, fixing the shutter speed or running ahead to get the perfect photo of some random building. I couldn't stop and I think the other people started getting irritated after bumping into me too many times when I would just stop walking when I something interesting, since that happened every few minutes.

We also had salt water crocodile on pizza, too which tastes like chicken and bacon that was perhaps the best bacon I have ever eaten. Apparently, Australian bacon is the best in the world and I agree with that. There was also a seafood pizza on the table which actually super sick. Salmon on pizza is not what you think it'd be but at least the knowledge is known.

The Opera House is nothing and everything I thought it would be. It's just so stunningly beautiful I couldn't stop looking at it. Then, when we came back at night, there was a light show on it and it was hands down the coolest thing I've ever seen. Although I will say that walking across the Harbor Bridge was spectacular, not only because of the views of Sydney but because of the bridge itself is so wonderful.

Alright, class starts tomorrow so I should get some rest, although my internal clock is still pretty messed up so I'm not all that tired. I miss home. I miss it a lot and it hasn't necessarily hit me that I'll be here for a month longer, mostly because I don't want to think about it because then I get too sad. I'm so excited about everything we'll be doing (even camping, after I found out it was only for one night...) so

To my mother.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY


Honestly, to the best mother ever. Seriously, it's an every day kind of amazing that I find unreal as to its greatness. My mom rocks. Plain and simple. I love her so much and couldn't be more thankful for everything she does for me, from the unwavering support about every step I take to letting me use her mascara when I forget mine at the apartment. I couldn't get by for a second without her and feel so much comfort knowing that I won't have to ever; she's that great.


Simply put, I love you, mom.
















Best mother's day event of all time. So much fun.


P.S. Thanks for letting me leave today early, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

Things I love

In no particular order:


-The Royal Wedding. Yeah, okay? I'm a sucker for a Cinderella story and it was the ideal ''Princess movie."
-When my coffee is the absolute perfect temperature for drinking.
-My apartment. I'll be sad to leave in three months.
-College.
-The fact that a 9 year old taught me two songs on the guitar and made me frenzied for more.
-My mom. A lot.
-......My iPhone..........Yep, I became that person where it is my new appendage.
-Interior design blogs. I cannot stop reading (obsessing) over about 7 of them. I was a designer in my past life.
-My closet after I've done the laundry and I have so many options, it's difficult.
- My 21 year old-ness. I legit don't want to turn 22.
-Every single one of my birthday presents. First time ever that it was completely everything I needed or wanted.
-Being so dang blessed.
-Taking pictures with my beautiful, stunning, heart-stoppingly gorgeous camera.
-This American Life podcast. Well, love and hate. Why are some of them so sad?
-Crappy movies.
-Really, really good books.
-Not studying.
-Listening to a great song for like the third time and recognizing how amazing it truly is.
-My.Sisters.Completely.
-And my friends.
-Not having gone grocery shopping in way too long. Seriously, it's comical the lack of food in this apartment.
-When I really like what I'm wearing.
-Saying "C'est la vie," at the wrong time. And then all the time.
-The few moments of calm I'll have about graduation.
-Fudge brownies. Thank you, mom.
-When my hair is really super clean and beautiful.
-Biscuit.


Aaaand that's about it. Well, tons more but my roommate just got home. I love her, too.

Living to just keep going, going just to keep sane.

I need to put this into words.


I can't stop thinking about next year. I'm going to be a senior, a mere 24 credits away from graduation, and completely at odds in my life. I can't stop thinking about the future and how I have absolutely no freaking idea what I'm going to do with my life. Getting a job, grad school, being a cat lady, it all narrows down to making decisions, something I've never been particularly fond of.

I used to say that I wanted to be an editor, how ideal it would be to work in a publishing house, but now, I'm not so sure. I've realized through my English classes how very much I believe in artistic license, and that to me, writers can do whatever that want as long as it is so good I couldn't imagine not turning the page. As it turns out, that is the opposite of editors' job. How fortunate.

I would follow up that prediction by saying I would become a teacher if need be, that high school would be a fun English to teach because I always adored my teachers. However, with Texas and really the whole country budgeting the education system down to pennies, how can I consider a career that so many are being laid off from?

Even my high reaching, maybe-I'll-go-to-law-school bit is falling extremely short as partners in million dollar firms, world wide, are struggling to find a job. Law school, even grad school, looks silly when it now means more loans and more time when it doesn't seem to help most people.

Honestly, it's the most terrifying time in my life, making my senior year of high school look like a total joke. I told Emma a few weeks ago that maybe high school wasn't as awful as we bemoan it to be and she groaned in response, but there is a reason; this is so much scarier than I ever thought. I feel like on some level, I thought I would just stay in college forever. That the four years that I get to learn and be here would seem eternal while that pesky future, with its reality and jobs was an old wives tale people told to scare the naive students. Do you have any idea how much it sucks to realize it's true?

All in all, I'm stuck in this perpetual rut of not wanting to do schoolwork, because it just brings me closer to my senior year, while being so eager to make the most of it that I end up overworked and entirely too lazy. It's such a silly way to get through college, but when the alternate is getting a real job, one where I can't watch Scooby Do reruns and have twirling contests, I stick with it.

So yeah, I'm turning 21. Sure, I've got approximately 12 months until I walk across that stage and face my lifetime. Even my dreams at night have become riddled with worry and anxiety over the silliest things like signing a year-long lease on an apartment. It's all so fast and I'm confident in saying that I have no idea in my educated mind what I will do. Heaven help me.

Finally.

I finally get to post this after a solid WEEK of TORTURE!





EMMA ROSE LOGUE IS ENGAGED TO ALEXANDER GABRIEL MAREES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Yes, it's weird I know his middle name, but do you know how many times Emma told me Alex has the greatest name ever? Deal with it.


Oh, thank GOD! This is here. Get ready, people.

Slow Down, Crazy!

So I was babysitting earlier and flipping through the third grader's agenda book for school. I counted the weeks until my finals. It's 6 weeks. A month and a half until my junior year is over. Holy moly.

Basically, I have a freaking lot of work to do before then. I know it's like a broken record, but I am shocked, shocked! at how quickly this semester flew by. I blame myself. Let me break it down. For Monday-Thursday, I am nose to the grindstone, non-stop with school, clubs, and church. Between meetings, projects and just all around madness, I'm rarely one of those "thank goodness for the weekend" types. My week just goes by too quickly for me to notice the time. From Thursday to Sunday, my time is filled with work. Babysitting, house sitting, anything really that will make me a little cash to put towards my Australia fund, rent, and you know, food and stuff. Honestly, it leaves little time for play, but I am loving it all so much that I don't mind.

So yeah, I guess looking back it makes sense that it went by so quickly. Still. It's difficult not to be a little crazed at how quickly it's flying by. Plus, there are so many huge hurdles to pass in the next 6 weeks that I'm overwhelmed, not just with stress but with nerves and excitement, too. My birthday and Australia meetings just to name a few, they mark time in such a way that I am too eager and too scared simultaneously because of them.

Time keeps going much too quickly as usual and the things I look forward to the most are rushing the fastest. Things I almost never thought would happen, like my 21st birthday, are happening. My days getting busier and my weeks fly by, and I am left with a very happy life full of things I love. Although I feel nostalgic for what has happened in the past few months, years and even farther back, I love the feeling of flipping the pages of a calender and wondering what will come next.

Yellow Brick Road

It's really quite comical sometimes, what an anomaly I am. Oh, well, here we go.

First of all, it is official. I am going on the Australia program with the school in June. I mean, there's technically still room to back out, but I would lose a lot of money. Plus, there is not one tiny portion of me that doesn't want this. Every single day that gets me closer to it, I get shivers of excitement. Literally, I cannot feel my elbows right now because I'm so excited. Typical, right? Well, let me explain what makes me an anomaly.

I am a terrible traveler. Honestly, I'd even go so far as to say I hate it. Ever since I've been slightly in charge of my own travels (which, sadly, have been very sparse) I suck at it. I get so unbelievable anxious and stressed, months in advance. Before I went on my UK trip, I used to have these crazy, vivid nightmares that I'd show up in London, completely alone and without a suitcase or money. I just can't help thinking about the worst possible outcomes over and over in my head. And I love not traveling, too. Like this spring break, I'm so excited because I'm house-sitting and get to do nothing. Despite this, I still overpacked, bringing enough outfits and stuff for 3 weeks instead of one. Of course, if I did travel more, I'd probably get over it, but there is still this insane inability to cope and adapt to any situation. With everything else in my life, I try so hard to be easy-going and go with the flow, even if I'm upset (which usually fails). With traveling, I have no desire to change how I am. Again, I can count how many times I've left Texas on a trip in the last five years on one hand, but still. I freakishly like it that way.

But, despite all of this, I want it, I want it so badly. I want to be able to say, "Australia? Oh, yes I've been there. Sydney is beautiful in the summer." I mean, I haven't been to France or Italy or Spain, the usual places kids my age go, but I will, eventually. The truly ironic part is I always said I could do without going Australia. But now...it feels so right, I'm so convicted, I couldn't imagine anywhere else. So despite my deep-seeded doubts about travel in itself, I know this will be everything I want and everything I never knew I could want.

So as I go through the unbelievably terrifying process of getting a loan for the trip, I hold onto this and keep making lists, endless lists about what to bring, what to buy, what to do before and during. I count down the months and weeks until I leave and then have a panic attack, as it's only 3 months. I stress about money, I stress about leaving, I stress about what's happening with the actual program (oh yeah, still an off chance it could get canceled...but, whatever). Perhaps I always will be a terrible traveler, but that's just something I have, whatever. It's like how I hate corn or can't stop watching Gilmore Girls; it's just who I am. Oh, well, anomaly forever.

Happy Valentine's Day!

This holiday is dumb. But here are some funny, sweet pics I found.

This is for me.

So I'm re-reading my blog posts from this past year (and being completely horrified, since my professional writing class has taught me a lot about proper writing) and liked the one entry I did on the classes I took last semester. I want to do another, so I can remember it for years to come.


Spanish III: Honestly, the biggest joke of my life. The professor is from Spain and doesn't speak English very well, but it bothers her to speak Spanish slowly, so she ends up teaching in English. Which is incredibly helpful. Anyway, it's legitimately funny. I end up giggling at the silly things she has us go around the room saying (today, it was 'tengo las bananas, yo las tengo). 8 a.m. has never been so hilarious.

Public Speaking: For some reason, I'm always in a bad mood in this class. I think the professor just gives me bad vibes or something and I'm usually too snappy to really speak up, which is a bad thing for a public speaking class. Still unsure how this will commence but I've heard he's an easy grader.

Editing: Eh, it's mostly busy work but I'm learning a lot about publishing and editors. It's not so much on the grammar side, which is a bummer because I wasn't ever really taught the rules. The teacher is kind of a flake, too but easy to ignore. Basically, it's interesting material, but a rather boring class.

Professional Writing: this one will be a toughie. The professor is a very hard grader, but it's because she's so good at what she does. She is absolutely brilliant on all rules regarding writing and really just knows her stuff all around. Again, mostly busy work, but I actually try pretty hard to get a good grade.

Small Group: will be the death of me. I love the class, absolutely, but it's tough stuff. I know the professor pretty well, she's the advisor for Comm Club, and I adore her. The thing is, we only have 5 big projects, that we have to do in groups she assigned the first week. It's sort of the scariest thing in the world to count so heavily on 4 other people, but we'll see how this turns out. So far, though, it's my favorite class.

Okay, just wanted that for years to come. Goodnight!

Life is like...

A ball of yarn. I figured if I put that as a full title, no one would read this at all. Gotcha!

For those of you who don't know, I have taken up knitting. The scarf I started a solid month ago is starting to look more like a blanket than a scarf, but it's something to do. Plus, a part of the process that I weirdly enjoy is taking the big thing of yarn they sell you (yeah, the professional term) and rolling it into a tight ball that's easier to use and tote around to various activities. Well, today marked the absolute most frustrating time I have ever had with yarn. It's not saying much, but it says enough.

I took the beautiful cream colored yarn I purchased with my wonderful mother on Friday and started to quickly unravel it so I could pull it into a ball. Yes, a very boring process, you might think, but satisfying as well. Then, I literally hit a snag. I tried to take the easy way out and just pull it all at once. Apparently, yarn doesn't like that. I got the queen of all knots. It took me an hour to make it into the queen of all queens. My fingers were itching towards the scissors, desperate for anything to end the knot. But, I didn't want to waste a whole thing of yarn. So I kept on. Finally, I had to legitimately leave my apartment and go to the grocery store because I was ready to throw the whole thing out the window. I came back and went back to it. 2 hours later, I could see the end of the knot, a possible way out. 30 minutes after that, fingers sore and mind frazzled, I had this:

















Okay, so that could possibly be the longest story about yarn of all time, but as I sat on the couch, hunched over the largest knot in all creation, I realized that this stupid yarn with its knots, is like my life.

It is full of problems (knots), just basic tangles that make up my life. Stress from school, drama with friends, and just all around madness that pull me in 18 different directions until I am so wound up, I am useless and frustrating. It takes time for me to pull back, take some time for myself, maybe even leave for a bit, before I can come back and really tackle what's in front of me. It's hard to do, especially for someone who is used to taking the easy way out only to find herself in a much more difficult situation. To work so hard at something, even if it's something as pointless as yarn, is the most demanding thing anyone could face.

Now, yes, that is a mixed metaphor. Am I the yarn or am I the person pulling apart the yarn? I'd say both, only because I don't want to go back and change it. The bottom line is that sometimes, all it takes is the smallest snag to send me into a whirlwind of trouble. Occasionally, I just need to slow down, not watch the Superbowl, and make some pudding.
















Okay, realizations, yarn, metaphors over, life can just be a bunch of nuts sometimes and the tough part is figuring out how to deal. I hope you can appreciate that from one of the nuttiest nuts of all. Thanks.

P.S. Yikes, I can't believe you actually read all that.

I can haz birfday?

Just a very quick HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the most amazing mom a girl could want or need. I love you so much and couldn't ever say that enough. Golly, you are just too wonderful for words.

I'm so impressionable.

Sorry for this post, blame the weather and lack of society in my life right now.

Okay, so I just watched the Social Network, which is freaking good as all get out, it deserves all awards. And of course, as soon as the credits started to scroll, I panicked.

Why don't I have that kind of talent? How can this kid, who was younger than me when he created it, have this ability to create something that I log on to at least once a day? He knows computers and codes and websites and so much more and I know...books? Jeez, I feel like I can't even say that because I had to rewind and put on subtitles for the Jabberwocky allusion that he so brilliantly mocked.

I've always shouldered the grief given to me for having a pretty pointless major. The immediate question of if I'll be a teacher once I graduate, because honestly that is all you can with an English degree. I've even felt a little smarmy and superior because my major is intellectual and complicated (yeah, I know) and these people who ask me those inane questions just don't understand. But then there are people like Mark Zuckerber, who drunkenly creates a website, works hard for a few months and then becomes a billionaire, all because he was good at programming and had an idea. Why don't I have that brain power?

Okay, it's more than just the money thing. I honestly marvel at things like computers and technology all the time. Not even that, basically anything that I'm not a particular connoisseur of, I am flabbergasted about. Science, math, history, medicine, even English at times leave me all with a sense of idiotic wonderment. Perhaps that's why I've developed a pretentious attitude towards anyone who pastes a smile on their face when I say English as my major. Really, I just totally get it.

Phew. Sorry. I just needed to get that little rant out of my system. No doubt I'll start classes and wholeheartedly remember why is Literature is so much better than everything else and all will be well in Who-ville. Anyway, I think everyone should watch the Social Network. It's excellent.

Ring in the New Year!

So this post is NOT just because I have a precious kitten sprawled across my lap, forcing me to stay put on my bed instead of eating breakfast, reading, or just getting up in general.

I wanted to do my resolutions, because ahah! This year I will have them. Here we go:

1. Actually read my textbooks and notes in the weeks leading up to the tests, not just the few days before. And stop reading my kindle instead.
2. Drink good coffee for pleasure, not just caffeine (my new baby espresso maker will probs help this).
3. Stop biting my nails. Again.
4. Eat healthier, for goodness sakes. Nothing sucks more than ending a week and realizing I haven't had a single vegetable. Shudder at the thought.
5. Be nicer. In general.
6. Ugh, be less obnoxious in class. Not everyone needs to know how smart I am.
7. Church, Bible, and basically the Lord more. Focus, focus, focus and it really does help.
8. Remind everyone I love that I do love them. I love you.
9. Finish all DIY's I started and start more. Then finish those, too.
10. Stick to my new hobbies (knitting, playing guitar, and learning to cook)

Eh, so most of them aren't huge life changers, but they're important. Luckily for me, I've never viewed resolutions as absolutes, so these may change as well. Bottom line, as it should be for everyone, I gotta stay happy. It's all I can do. Hopefully, these will help. Again, I love all of you and honestly could not have gotten through 2010 without you. Let's try to do the same for '11. Oh, score, kitten woke up. Time for more (good) coffee and breakfast!