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I have never been one to make a to-do list. Mainly because they never get done and they never get done because I don't like my life to be super tidy; I enjoy the spontaneity of things. However. This is what I found myself finishing yesterday afternoon:
Yeah.
I feel like my whole life has been put into short, succinct lists so I can get a quick snapshot of what's been happening and then move onto the next. Since we're on a listomania of sorts, here's what's been going on since last time I wrote:
1) Juniors found the crook with fifteen minutes to spare: If I had known in kindergarten that I would one day be rocking out some sweet dance moves and pig noses in Corn and digging in the ground looking for an inch of a stick, I would have laughed at myself. Halie Sue, I am forever indebted to you, you champ.
2) My room has added a new component of messiness: pillows.
3) I got a new phone: It's purple, sassy, and when it rings it reminds me of dancing in a club.
4) I'm realizing that I am a grandma: Lately I've been craving intense solitude where I can find a hammock, lay in it with a good book and just disappear from the world for awhile and not go out to downtown Raleigh.
5) I've decided that this summer is going to entail me working, taking trips to the ocean, and enjoying my last summer as a college student: And you know what? I'm okay with that.
6) Glozell's youtube videos legitimately make my life: Look her up and prepare to be lying on the floor gasping for breath. Thank you, Sam Cibs and Sabrina for introducing me to sheer comedic GENIUS.
My crook-huntin'-marathon-runnin'-rap-rockin'-sweet partner in crime, Brittany-she's what my younger cousins would call a "Forever Friend."
I've spent a lot of my time hunting for a big black stick. This isn't a figurative "that's what she said" a la The Office...it's actually true. I've been hunting with my other 2011-ers for a black crook that can be hidden on any part of the campus with only one inch showing...that's very little crooky and a school that's turning out to be a lot bigger than I thought.
Crook Hunt is a tradition that you can deem silly or important. It's a mixture of both (I mean, really. Shuffling your feet through mulch to find a black walking staff?), but it's made me realize some things:
1) I love my class. I really, really do. Through traditions like this one, I have been blessed to meet some of the most knock-you-down-hysterical people that just make looking under air vents (you think I'm joking...but I'm not) and creating strategies worth it.
2) We're getting close to finishing the last tradition of the junior class...and moving into senior year. Wow. It's just a few blocks away, y'all.
3) That people still surprise me. Some people who I would never have imagined to come hunt for this crook have come out, and it just thrills me to pieces. I'm loving seeing this whole, "Hey, let me step out of my shell and get involved" sort of thing.
4) I need to invest in some bug repellent, a rake, a bee-keeper suit (I refuse to get stung by bees looking for this thing), and a flashlight.
Tonight I had a really long life talk with Kellie Deaton. And she said something to me that I'm going to write down, blog about, say, do everything possible so that it will never be forgotten:
"When you find something that you love to do, vomit it on other people. Seriously. Radiate and vomit sunshine on them. That'll make you happy." Yeah.
And on that note: heeeeeeere crooky, crooky, crooky...
It's really hard for me to start things. Like my thesis for example. I feel like every time I type in a topic sentence it sounds so cliche: "Holden Caulfield was us and we were Holden Caulfield," "Catcher in the Rye still catches today," and my personal not-so-favorite: "It was the sentence that changed adolescence forever-" Cue Star Wars music and my adviser vomiting and giving me a failing grade. So far the things I'm trying to start are all things that could potentially change my life, be it GPA-wise or experience-wise:
1) My thesis: Adviser reads this, adviser grades this, adviser talks to the head of the department and tells her whether I suck or rock at a major that is potentially going to serve me usefully as I cobble my future together.
2) Living in the city after graduation: I should be looking at possible jobs. I should be looking at possible apartments. But when I do, I begin to get that sinking feeling in my stomach that signifies an immense panic attack (that can only be cured by watching Grey's Anatomy and having some coffee handy).
3) The GRE: Another torturous form of the SAT via computers. Same old song and dance: ace the English, do so-so on the math. I think what's worse is that when you get an answer wrong it tells you on the spot. "WRONG-go back one level, minion!"
4) Cleaning my room: The carpet has become like another shelf, housing a big blue bin that is spilling with (clean) clothes that need to be folded. I wade through a mass of papers, books, spotless tupperware, and c.d's. In the middle of the night when I had to get up to pee, I stumbled over my sock box and scattered argyle everywhere. And yet. It has been almost a month and I refuse. Maybe this is a sign that unless my room becomes uncluttered my life won't.
5) Accepting that not all relationships can last: This one just sucks a big one. Self-explanatory.
6) Sitting at a table to do work: Every time I try to start doing this, I get called by my mattress-topped bed with the down comforter that could stop a war and make everyone hug: "Oh, Kiran. You don't want to work in that uncomfortable space. Come lean against your boyfriend (pillow) and do your research here." And I wonder why I have the neck and back of an eighty-year-old man.
7) Realizing that our microwave is now dead: Ants invaded. Roommate sprayed with deadly insecticide. Other roommate tried to wash it out with soap and water (I want you pause and think about this one). Microwave went into an irreversible coma. RIP all things defrosted. Hello stovetop oatmeal.
Starting to realize these things is just hard-there is no "especially number five." All of these things are equally yucky in their own ways. And yet. I have a feeling that if I keep nagging myself to not go into hysterics and get these things done, I'll be able to figure it all out (one can only tolerate boiling water on the stove for so long).
Here's to when that day comes.
