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Those who know me know that I have a borderline obsession with The Office. A seemingly dry work environment that is in fact chock-full of sharp wit, sarcasm, a beautifully sweet man named Jim, and a to die for character named Kelly Kapoor who says things like, "I don't talk trash, I talk smack. They're totally different." And the actress who plays her, Mindy Kaling is definitely at the top of my "Actresses I Want To Be For 24 Hours" list. And she is a part of who inspired this blog post.
Mindy is about to write a book called Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns). I have no doubt in my mind that this will be a hilarious read. However, there was a sweet sentiment to one of her chapters--the chapter about the Best Friend. She recently posted a link that called for people to write down their "Best Friend Rules and Regulations"...i.e. what makes the two of you work and inseparable. I read it and I immediately started to smile because who else should pop into my head but my own best friend?
This is Hilary, the other half who inspired this post. I have known Hilary since middle school...clearly we were meant to be because I was a thirteen year old chubster with oddly-shaped glasses, triangle hair, sarcasm, and a penchant for wearing tube socks to gym class...and she still wanted to be friends with me. Hell, I wouldn't have even wanted to be friends with me!!! Fastforward to high school where she was my number one go-to girl about all things important: the location of my latest boycrush, the code words we invented for people we disliked, the times I cried after a fight with my family, the time my hair was frizzy for my freshman school picture and she helped me put it into a bun...everything. And of course, after high school came college...and incidentally we both ended up at our beloved alma mater, Meredith. We were joined at the hip for the first two years, though a brief falling out left us flying solo for junior year and a bit of senior year. Even though I still felt like we weren't completely separated, I felt a bit empty for awhile. However, when all things were restored, it was like no time had passed at all and we were still a duo-riffic US, finishing each other's sentences, talking at rapid-speed about various celebrities, musing over our futures, giggling over THE MOST RIDICULOUS THINGS (like planning our weddings in tandem via wedding blogs/putting on Southern accents and yelling "YEE-YEE!" at the end of a sentence...madness, I tell you), but things that make me laugh even today.
Hilary is the epitome of what it means to be a best friend: she listens. Whomever wrongs me, she hates (within reason...whatever, she hates). She tells me the truth. She makes me laugh harder than anyone I know and will spend hours upon hours doing so. She supports me. She bakes cupcakes and I eat them. Really, what could go wrong in this friendship? But most importantly, she has seen me at my worst and has never judged me for it. Hilary is an assurance that I am just fine and dandy the way I am, and she will probably never know how much I appreciate that. And so, readers, I want to share with you, the 'Best Friend Rules' that I submitted.
THE BEST FRIEND RULES:
-If I call you at an obscene hour of the night, you must come pick me up, even if it is at the skanky dive bar that you warned me not to go because I could get an STD (don't worry, I'll repay you in coffee).
-If one of us goes through something horrible, like if the pair of hella amazing flats we hid in the men's underwear section at Target is not there anymore (or worse: a death, a break-up, a friend issue, etc.), the other will bring the following: cupcakes, funny movies, wine, trashy magazines, a laptop to Facebook stalk, and a shoulder to cry on.
-If you are sad, I will stay with you for hours until you are happy. Because I know you would do the same for me.
-If you are about to do something shiesty (like wear a multi-colored leopard print dress out in public, talk to your ex, or buy a fur muffler), I can be honest with you because I love you.
-When I move across country we will snail mail once every other week, call/text daily, Skype weekly, and communicate telepathically...because really, if we don't stay in touch, THERE IS NO ONE ELSE LEFT.
-You will be the maid of honor at my wedding. Duh.
-If I am unhappy about the same thing for awhile, you will help me figure out how to change it/take me to get Fro-Yo.
-If I sing the lyric, "I ain't got no car to take you on a date" from the baller song, "The Way I Are" a la Timbaland and Keri Hilson, you will immediately dance and mimic the lyrics because hello, we're a duo.
-I hate who you hate and vice versa. Okay, well, hate is a really strong word, but really. If someone wrongs you, I will dislike them intensely and wish them severe weight gain and bloated feet until they apologize/buy you something really cool.
-We make up code names/phrases for everything. For example: if I am on a bad first date and text you, "THE PAINT IS DRYING!!" you will know to immediately call me fake-crying about how you have a flat tire and are stuck in Bumfuck NowhereLand and I need to come "get you" (which really means sit on a bed with Goodberry's and wine and cry about how there are no good men left and the fact that my ovaries are going to shrink).
-You will be one of the godparents of my future child. If I have a child. Which I might. But still. It's gotta be you, babe.
-You constantly assure me that I would be a good mom and not accidentally break my child if I gave him/her a hug.
-I always tell you that you're pretty and vice versa. And it still makes me smile when you do!
-When I am making an acceptance speech YOU need to be my date so when I get to the, "Aaaaand to all of my haters...." the camera will pan on you smiling widely while you flip through a Rolodex of everyone who was mean to me.
-At your wedding I will cry because I'll feel overwhelmed at the notion of even HALFWAY letting you go.
-When we have homes, we each have a designated "Best Friend" room. Meaning no one but the two of us can go in there and hang out and anyone else who does will be killed.
-If you say you want to live in a city and travel and go camel-riding, I will support you. Because, hi, I'm coming with you.
-If I say I feel fat, you tell me to shut up.
-If my parents are embarrassing you don't mock them, but you just go with it.
-You will let me eat the last piece of pie.
-I will let you eat the last handful of M&M's because I know you love them.
-We can talk about PPB: Periods, Poops, and Burps. But we still get tickled over these notions.
-You will make me laugh like a hyena over everything, and hopefully, vice versa.
-We know that even though we're not from the same DNA pool, we're related.
-This isn't even about getting a signed copy of Mindy's book. Reading over this list makes me more thankful and teary and happy and just plain old LUCKY that I have you for a sisterfriend.
:)
Whomever invented Nordstorm deserves a Lifetime Achievement Award. Seriously. After spending a fabulous fun day with Julie-Kate at the Tanger Outlets and not really finding a lot, we moseyed on over to the Southpoint area. And in the haven that is Nordstrom Rack, I found this gem:
A black military jacket for twenty bucks? Yes, please! And I am totally planning on wearing this tomorrow. Speaking of...tomorrow I'm going to Rex Hospital where I'm getting a camera put in my stomach so doctors can see what's going on in the insides of Kiki. While I'm a little nervous, I am quite comforted in the fact that at least I'm going into this little procedure with style :)
I am aware that this poor blog has been neglected for some time. We have so much to catch up on! Corn madness, post-Corn madness, November days, etc! No worries though, now that it is break time, updates will probably be more frequent because I'll be bored out of my mind. On that note, why is is December?
December? DECEMBER! Oh my GAH, how are we already at December? My mind is blown by the fact that I have one more semester of college left...like, FOREVER (until I decide to go to grad school). Wow. I bounce back a lot from feeling elated and ready to go to New York to feeling defiant about graduating and being all, "I'm not doing it. Nope. What's a class I can fail? Okay, I'm failing it. The end."
It has finally happened, folks. The little "Kiran-isms," i.e. the amount of stress that I let affect me in my daily life has landed me into the Land of the Medical, i.e. Rex Hospital, where I am awaiting to be "officially" diagnosed with either stress ulcers or gastroentritis, meaning my stomach is inflamed. Isn't that gross? Ew. My doctor, sweet Dr. Beck, was very calm as she told me that for the next five or six weeks I was to have no more of the following: caffeine, alcohol, processed foods, fruit with high acidity (bye, bye, beloved kiwi. Oh, how I'll miss you), or CHOCOLATE. That's right, y'all. CHOCOLATE. The alcohol thing? I can do without. The caffeine? Really, the only thing I really drink is coffee, and I mean, I can take a break. But it is Christmastime, and this is the time of the year when chocolate things are at its best: peanut butter cookies with Hershey kisses in the middle, homemade chocolate toffee, chocolate-oreo "mush" desserts with gummy bears and crumbled chocolate bits on top, sugar cookies with Santa's distorted face on them, CARAMEL CHEWS...I mean, really, why didn't she just hand me a noose and tell me to go at it?
However: cleaning out my needing-to-be-cleaned diet (i.e. not drinking copious amounts of slightly burned coffee everyday, along with my penchant for going to Which Wich/Whole Foods when the "time's is tough" on the academic front), and sipping on decaf tea and Trader Joe hummus and bread (thanks, daddio), I feel a lot better. Well, you would feel better too once the stabs in your stomach settled. But I feel like my body is building its strength back so I can muck it up with more late-night Cookout next semester (I kid, I kid). I've been sleeping a lot, reading things that aren't academically inclined (I banish you, Theatre History, to the bottom of my bed until next semester), and honestly, hanging out with my family. I am not even kidding when I say that my dad is ecstatic to have me back around the homefront. He misses my sister and I, I think, and so when one of us is ailing, he jumps at the chance to take care of us. Gone is the twenty-two year old form that is me currently, and in its place is the gap-toothed six-year-old me with a slight mullet haircut (thanks to him, of course. Dad thought it would be "economical" to try and cut my hair then...needless to say, he stopped and shelled out the dough to the professionals), always wanting to hold his hand. It's been nice to just do things with him like take our new collie puppy Chloe out for walks, go to Trader Joe's, and watch movies together (since I'm in theatre, I tell him a lot about what we learn in class, so he's picked up the lingo too...we were watching Law & Order, and all he could talk about was the "believability" and "character choices" of Detective Stabler). Aaand I'm not going to lie, my inner six-year-old is secretly glad to spend some quality time with her fisherman-hat-wearing-socks-and-sandals-sporting father.
Since I have been on my meds, I have been able to drive on my own and do things. Over this past week, we at Meredith said, "Congratulations and see you later!" to two very special grads:
The always-fabulous Jenn, who is heading back up to Maine to be at home for awhile and then scooching on over to NEW YOOOOORK (where I will be joining her next year!) to pave her classy name in the acting business.
And then we have...
This hoss over here, Sheryl. While this picture captures her "gangsta" mode, this HILARIOUS and beautiful gal will be hanging around Raleightown to showcase her many acting talents and then hopefully head over to Chicago and land herself a lead on SNL...because yes, people, she is that talented.
I can't even put into words how much these two mean to me or have impacted my stay at Meredith. All I can say is that I love them deeply, believe in them SO MUCH, and cannot wait to see what they do.
I cannot wait to see what this break brings. Hopefully a lot of hip hop classes, writing, catching up with my friends, and seeing my wonderfully insane family? This makes for a vacation where a lot of funny shit will go down...and I cannot wait to be there in the midst of it. Happy, happy December, sweet friends! I can't wait to see you all...and SOON!
Celebrating birthdays at the beginning of the year=priceless.
The little chil'rens I babysit for are the cutest. Like, seriously. They are just baller little people. And they teach me so much every time I make my way to Cary to their sweet little home. The oldest one, Katie, is in the fifth grade and has big blue eyes and a knack for talking like she's thirty. She's also the best big sister to her younger brother, Wyatt. And boy, does she make you think:
"Kiran? I like video games and I'm ten years old right now. When I'm your age, I don't want to not like video games. You're supposed to have fun even when you're twenty-five!" (For the record, I am twenty-one. Let's just make that fact known).
"Kiran? Sometimes when I'm happy, I dance. You should try it, it makes your heart happy."
"Kiran? I have a request."
"What's that, Katie?"
"After dinner may I please kick your butt at video games?"
Refreshing.
I have a pretty addictive personality. I remember when I was eight I went through a phase of eating strawberry Gushers until my insides were probably screaming from all of that processed sugar. There was age nine, when I was obsessed with all things Sailor Moon and developed a rather scary collection of the dolls. Soon there was age ten when Backstreet Boys, Spice Girls, and Oreos took over my world. Nowadays, these are my current "can't-let-go-of-them's..."
1) Coffee: I'm serious, I think I have a problem. I used to yell at my mom and dad all the time, saying that when they were on their second cup that their kidneys were going to secrete unnecessary fluid and that they were going to get liver failure from all of the caffeine, etc. Now look at me. I wake up in the morning and seriously have the dopiest smile on my face while I make my morning cuppa with the splash of hazelnut. I get shivers when I hear the whirl of the Starbucks machine happily churning out my skinny vanilla latte. I tried to go without for one day and ended up with a serious caffeine headache, a dose of crankiness, and the need to burst out crying when a girl came into class with Royal Bean. Kasey, I apologize for making fun of your obsessiveness with Diet Coke. I understand now.
2) Target: Last week I went to this mecca four days in a row. Don't judge me. Please.
3) Health magazines and calorie-counting: I mean, it's not like I eat healthier now. There really isn't a fruit or vegetable that I hate, so I never have a problem eating them. But lately I'm just curious to see what the contents of my meal holds. Did you know that pickle chips have fifty calories per chip? Bet you didn't. Bet you were living happily before you knew that. Bet you don't care. Bet you think I'm crazy. You're right.
4) The gym: This is actually one that I'm relatively okay with. I say "relatively" because two weeks ago when I was running late to hip-hop, I took out my rage on an unsuspecting slow driver ahead of me because I was agitated at the thought of not getting my spot on the floor...only to find out that this person was quite old. Needless to say I was a little ashamed. But really? I'm finding that I have a liking for this new chum called Endorphins. I feel better. I feel like I look better. And I like the fact that one week I feel out of breath at a toning session but in the next week I can keep up.
5) Being a senior: My good buddy Kristin and I justify every moment of procrastination with, "I'm a senior," followed by singing the Lil' Wayne song, "I'm Goin' In." It used to feel weird but now I love it. And I love the bonding we're going to have during Corn. Speaking of...
6) Corn: I. AM. SO. EXCITED. 'Nough said.
7) The fact that after this year I'm starting a new chapter: The fact that I'm addicted to this idea makes me realize that I've grown a lot. I'm not so nervous anymore, rather just really, really, hella excited.
8) Itunes: Bye, bye, bank account...
I woke up this morning with a huge lump in my throat that I couldn't soften. I tried and tried but it wouldn't budge.
It may have been because it was 4:30 IN THE MORNING and I had only gotten two hours of sleep. But there I was, awake, unable to shake the sadness and semi-fear of what was to come: orientation crew. Some of you reading this may be thinking that I am not only on drugs but that I have reached the prime state of paranoia and social anxiety. But it wasn't because I was afraid of the people. It was this whole battle with time thing that had me anxious.
We welcomed the class of 2014 this morning. Twenty-fourteen. 20fourteen. Twenty14. Twentyfourteentwentyfourteentwentyfourteen. And my heart was breaking a little bit. See, I remember moving into Meredith. I remember not being able to sleep, having stalked everyone I had "friended" on Facebook the night before, running into the garage at 2:30 in the morning, making sure that I had packed my light blue bin with the clear lid with all of my books and that I had not forgotten shampoo, soap, or my favorite faded flip-flops with a huge picture of Snoopy on the right shoe. I remember the actual move-in day itself, stuffing my car to the gills to the point where I couldn't see anything when I was moving in, to the point where if I was about to switch lanes on the highway, I would put on my blinker for a full two minutes, say the Lord's prayer, and jerk my wheel to the right, straight on to exit three Hillsborough, turning left at the light, going straight for a couple feet, and then making my final left turn into the front drive...where I was greeted by a slew of fabulous ladies all screaming, "Welcome to Meredith!" and telling me to honk my horn. I remember how my dad and I tag-teamed and took a box of clothes up to my room, only to have the bin crack and explode a plethora of colorful bras all over the second Heilman stairs. I remember meeting Megan and Carolyn and Brittany and Caroline and Tricia and having Danielle teach me how to "walk it out" that night. I remember it all.
I cried all the way to my beloved Meredith today, because it really and truly hit me: I am a senior. I will be leaving after this year. This is my last orientation crew. I will know the class of 2014 for exactly one year...and then I leave.
It scares the curls out of me, sometimes, knowing that next year I'll be driving good old Leo the Geo up to New York, where I will probably still over-pack my car and still put my blinker on and give other drivers a fair warning before Leo makes his move. It scares me knowing that I will not see my friends, my sisters, really, for a long time.
And yet.
Though I had a mini-breakdown that included a lot of ugly crying and blowing my nose on a random sock that I found in my car (sometimes ya do what ya gotta do, okay?), I had a blast today. Even though it was five o'clock, being with all of my friends and getting ready to greet the new freshies was just so exciting and made my insides brim with adrenaline. When it was time, we donned our sandwich board signs, held up our cookie sheet and silver tongs, cranked up the music, and started screaming. The reactions we got varied...some girls looked petrified, others excited. The boyfriends were the best, though. Michelle Cox would play good cop, bad cop, gently waving them through the circle with her tongs, and then when they got close, she would pound on her cookie sheet and bellow into their windows, "WELCOME TO ME-RE-DITH!" coupled with the classic guy bark. I really thought I would wet my pants.
Every senior that I ran into would give me a hug and then we'd exchange a look that only we understood. The feeling that it would soon end, but that surely in the end, it would all be okay. Regardless, I have never seen my campus lovelier today.
Class of 2014, welcome to Meredith. I hope you love this campus just as much as I have, and that it is just as phenomenal to you as it has been to me. I hope you fumble through your first Corn but get incredibly excited for the next. I hope you go on late night Cookout Runs. I hope you figure out that the showers have a habit of going from lukewarm to burning hot to ice-drop cold in a matter of seconds. I hope you have run-ins with the geese. I hope Jean Jackson asks you randomly to quote memory lines...in public. I hope you grow into yourself and begin to see that you are actually pretty great. I hope you love your friends to the point that it hurts. And I hope you have a lot of pride in this school. Class of 2014...welcome home.
When I was about to start my freshman year in college, my best friend Jackie included me, my wonderful friend Audrey, a childhood chum named Karen in on her graduation present: front row seats to the John Mayer/Ben Folds/James Morrison concert
God, we look so young (we were what, eighteen?). But the concert was fantastic, nonetheless. It was my first time seeing John Mayer live; I had originally gone for Ben Folds, being a little snotty about seeing Mister Mayer. I had liked his music, knowing the standard lyrics, "I wanna run through the halls of the high school/I wanna scream at the top of lungs," but I wasn't super crazy about him. But when he took the stage, I couldn't take my eyes away; he was such a talented musician and his comments before his songs were hilarious. One thing that he said before singing "No Such Thing" was that in high school we think we're one way but really, when we get out it's when we discover who we really are and that the times we have in college are those to really cherish and live in the moment for. I remember going right home after the concert and downloading all of his music.
As my college years have gone on, my Ipod and Itunes have housed John and his lovely jams, but I hadn't thought about that concert in 2007 in awhile. Then Friday happened: My big sis at Meredith (Maggie) skyped me and asked if I wanted to accompany her to the John Mayer/Train concert that following night because her partner in crime, Whitney, had fallen sick (I hope you're feeling better, boo!). Did I?! SCHYEAH.
It's funny to think that I saw John Mayer before I started my first year and the I got to see him as my last year in college looms ahead. Pat Monahan (the lead singer of Train), though forty-eight years old, was tall, thin, sarcastic...and talented. I could not believe the voice that came out him! He pulled a woman onstage who had the sign, "Forget Virginia...meet Karen!" Hahahaha.
When John came onstage, everyone stood up and started cheering, Maggie and I included. We just had fun the entire night (sans a creeper who tried to hit on us...I told him our names were Lisa and Joanne). He crooned his way through songs mostly from the new album, and gave random but hysterical commentary about life in general (the way he speaks reminds me of Mitch Hedberg). Then came the Song that Caused the Tears: Stop This Train. Suddenly John launches into a speech about how sometimes we can't really slow down time and next thing I know he's quietly singing, "So scared of getting older/Only good at being young", and my eyes were welling up faster than I could wipe them off. It was one of those poignant moments that I don't think I'll ever forget. It was like I was hearing that song for the first time and really understanding what those lyrics meant. It was my favorite moment of the night.
I couldn't help but think about my ladies in the class of 2010, though-he launched into a smooth rendition of "Don't Stop Believin'" and all I could think about were those colorguard highschoolers twirling flags in the back :).
Senior year starts in less than a month. I can't even believe my summer's slowly coming to a close! Before school though, my lovely friend Hannah and I are planning to storm the Wilmington beach at midnight and play in the sand. We don't know when, but it's going to happen. Man, I really am good at being young.
Welcome to the month of July! Wait, what? My summer is flying by! Senior year is looming (as I am constantly reminded by my parents), and talk of our final (final!) Meredith traditions make me simultaneously want to cheer and cry.
This past weekend made me realize that even when I graduate, I am going to love, love, love reunions. Amy, Kellie, Wise Old SCR (Sarah Catherine...but that's a nickname that's stuck since I met her), Kasey, Catie, and I all came together again for an absolutely fantastic weekend. From First Friday to traveling to Moore County to spend our Fourth of July with Amy and her sweet madre, I spent the whole weekend laughing, indulging in Amy's phenomenal blueberry tart and Red Room sangria (watermelon-honey, y'all. Watermelon-honey), and reveling in the company of some wonderful girls. Kasey and I got lost on the way to Kellie's and almost wet ourselves laughing while we tried to find our way from Johnston County to Wake (She mistakenly made me navigator, a position I am presumably fired from); our war cry for the weekend was, "It's just beyond the corn field!"
Ya-Ya's, gal pals, true blue's, whatever you want to call them-they mean a lot to me. I think there's something to be said by spending a lot of days together and never running out of stories to tell. Which is probably why when we're old, we're going to take over a neighborhood and live close-by one another...we'll probably be able to smell when Kasey makes stir-fry :D
Despite the fact that this weekend was full of friends, fourths, and feasts, it doesn't make up that currently my apartment has a few hundred guests: fleas. Ugh, ugh, ugh. I do not know how this came to be, but all I know is that I'm currently waging a war on little beasts that are about the size of a dust particle. But I'm not afraid...this fight will be won.
Happy July!
I have never moved so fast on Facebook in my entire life. Trying to make contact with one of your high school best friends who is halfway around the world doing some pretty amazing things can be pretty difficult, but if you have quick fingers, a computer positioned at the right angle (so you won't lose internet randomly), and a habit of refreshing your page every couple seconds, chatting in different time zones can work out splendidly.
This is Will (taken at a grad party from high school...ignore the horrendous khaki capris I'm sporting)
:
Will is a year younger than I am but man, we hit it off when he was just a wee little freshman in high school. What a friend! Smart, passionate, always moving in a frenzy, this guy was my go-to if I ever needed a pick-me-up or just wanted to talk about, well, everything. This picture describes us to a T. We had some amazing talks in high school that I still remember today and listened to some pretty awesome mixed c.d's while going on various little adventures. Speaking of, Will is on an incredibly cool one right now; he's been studying abroad in Argentina for the semester (He goes to UNC-CH), and when exams are over, he'll be globe-trottin' to Chile, Uruguay, Paraguay...you name it, he's probably going there. Just like Jackie and Carolyn, even if I don't get to talk to him as often as I'd like to, I am constantly amazed at how much he takes on and how positive and upbeat he stays. When I was skyping with him tonight it was like time hadn't passed at all! I love having friends like that; months may go by, but the minute you get on the phone with them it's like they've been with you that whole time. I'm so excited to see my "Willums" when he gets back and have our always-talked-about-but-never-done bagel date. Yessss!
Fun facts of the moment:
+I'm going to Boone tomorrow to help move in the famous Catie "Busta Cap" Hiztigrath
+I made Kellie a, "We're Going to Boone!" mixed c.d.
+Puck is curled up in my lap and I'm thinking of changing his name to Satan. He's worse than a child on that show The Nanny. And he's an animal for God's sake
+Sheryl and I did stadiums in the amphitheater...and felt like beasts after.
+My Meredith ring has a piece of dust in it and it will not come out. I feel like this is a crisis. But it's not. But it is.
+I'm trying to learn how to make pancakes to prove that I can cook. Volunteer taste testers? :)
I'm that girl who knew a lot of people in high school but could count the number of super close friends on one hand. And even though we've separated and don't talk as often, I can pick up the phone and call any one of them and it's as though nothing has passed and I'm in the room with them, drinking lattes and looking through magazines with hot men on the covers.
Meet Jacqueline (Jackie/Jack-Attack/Fashion Jackie), one of the truest, bluest pals a girl could ever ask for. I was lucky enough to see my on-the-move best friend before she jets off to-get this-New York to intern for Cosmo and The Knot magazines. Simultaneously. Man, you are a slacker, Jackie. Get on that, would ya ;) ? Through high school it was always me, Jackie, and our other third of the triangle, Carolyn (Caro/Blue Eyes/YO GIRL):
Picture taken in a Starbucks lot, year 2006-7ish. Carolyn, the blunt, "don't-hurt-my-friends-or-I'll-cut-you" one; Jackie, the fashionista and not-so-closeted music nerd, ready to take over the world with her magnificent style and sharp writing; and me. I hate doing me. The dreamer? The actor? The worrier? The therapist? Probably all of the above.
We've definitely had our ups and downs sometimes, but really, it was more ups than anything. It didn't matter what was going on at the time; if one was in trouble (and of course, true to girl-fashion, it could be a myriad of things: boys, clothes, families, other girls, typical adolescent crying jags...), the other two would be there to fix things. And if we couldn't necessarily fix that something, we would do the next best thing: pig out on Brueggers and Starbucks and watch trashy television shows. While Carolyn's been beaching it up at Wilmington and Jackie's sporting her own true blue Carolina colors, I, being crazy busy with all things Meredith, haven't had much time to talk to them. I've seen each one separately but we all haven't been a united triangle front.
But ya know what?
If I were in trouble, I would still call them. And they would come running. And this is why, five years later, we're still going strong.
Oh, and:
Meet Puck. Yes, I named him after hot Puck on Glee. But also because he reminds me of the character Puck from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream and he shoots around like a hockey puck, clawing, meowing, and yes, farting. He's my man on four furry legs.
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...
Staying up late, wearing sweats, hair sticking out at all random places, and trying really hard not to scream? Yup, it's the mid-term week before spring break, coined not-so-affectionately as Hell Week. Sheesh. If I had known when I was young that biology and math were going to plague me with trouble as I got older, I would've listened to tapes before I went to bed. Einstein I am not. This week brings along with it three exams, a few papers, thesis books that need to be read, and insanity taking over the brain. But at the same time, I know this crazy week will be replaced by another crazy week which will be replaced by another crazy week...it goes on. March Madness has taken on a new meaning! However I have a plum lot to look forward to because for the break, I am going to D.C with some lovely friends of mine.
Last year when I went, I hung out with Amy, Kasey, and Kellie, and we had the best time. However, this year's been a little different.I'm not going to lie. There were moments when I did not want to go because of occurrences that made me want to scream, cry, and made me wonder if my sanity was worth foregoing. And yet, this past weekend made me see a little clearer.
Kellie and I volunteered at the Buddy Basketball game where children with special needs can show off their serious game. I got to see some of the most adorable kids run around and have fun, all with the biggest smiles on their faces. And it made me realize at how trivial this whole spring break thing was, and that there are some things that are more important than things that in the long run really won't shape who you are as a person. Watching these kids were so inspiring and so eye-opening. It was a beautiful way to spend my Saturday.
And so, I'm really looking forward to spending some quality time with my friends and exploring the parts of DC that we didn't get to. Here's to getting through mid-term week! Buena suerte!
One of my absolute favorite Meredith traditions is the annual performance of The Vagina Monologues. This is when I'm always constantly surprised by the talent that pops on over to the theatre department. All sorts of women audition, older women, women who aren't involved in theatre but are biology, psychology, English, Spanish, and the like, most of whom leave us with our jaws dropping. This year was no different. The talent ranged far and wide, but the actual performances meant so much more to me than they have the last two years.
As a freshman, I loved being a part of the VM's. I didn't know as many people, but it was fun. Then there was sophomore year when I got a meatier monologue ("Because He Liked to Look at It"), one that allowed me to be funny but thoughtful; this was also the year that I knew a lot more people and had so much fun playing backstage with Spencer. This year I got the monologue I had been coveting since my first year (...think moaning. A lot of it.), but it made me feel a little nostalgic. I had to watch some of my senior ladies do their last performances. And then I had to think about the fact that I only get one more chance to do this beautiful work with my Meredith College family and that soon after I'll be leaving. It's a bit of a daunting milestone, this empowering piece marking the end of my college career, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it. I will say however, that during this process, under our fearless director Sara and all-over-the-place-hands-down-hilarious assistant director Lauren, the only thing that I could feel coming out of them was love and a sense of purpose. They knew that this was a show that was not to be taken lightly because it speaks volumes to the female gender. And along this journey, we were met with tons of laughs:
This show is a necessity for us to do each year. It teaches us to be proud of the fact that we're women. But more importantly, it teaches us to celebrate. So celebrate we did.
