The Three Necessities

"As I've gotten older," actor Jason Segel said in a speech. "The things I care about have whittled down to three things: my family, my friends, and being nice." He's one of my favorite actors and my admiration only grew. This is a concept I think a lot of us have lost somewhere along the way: being nice.

I think in a place like Los Angeles, where it can be very cutthroat and cruel, it's easy to lose sight of the important things in life. Instead, there are those who are so wrapped up in their own insecurities and are so twisted in trying to be "the best" that they cut others down in the worst possible ways. Now, as a girl from North Carolina, raised properly by a loving (albeit fabulously dysfunctional), I was taught that at the root of human existence is the characteristic of being kind. And lately, I've been questioning my need to "be nice" when it feels like the people who surround me are, in fact, bullies.

I talked to one of my closest friends today and she told me this: "We're nice to those who aren't because they're unhappy. They're hurting in some way, and whether they call you fat or talk about how they're going to exploit a weakness, they're insecure and cowardly, and those are the ones who need us the most."

She's a wise one, my friend.

I believe in this statement: "Always be kinder than you feel." Seriously. It'll bring a smile to your face. And I promise, whether you want to teach someone "a lesson in dumbass-ness," make a comment about how someone appears to be socially awkward, or even go to the point of jeering at the fact that if 2012 were to ever wipe out the human existence, certain individuals would be the first to go, not saying it may actually make you feel better. Being a bully? Not impressive. Not attractive. And not how we as human beings should conduct ourselves.

My three necessities parallel Segel's:

1) My family.

2) My friends.

3) Being kind.

Maybe it's something we should all look into.

Love Never Dies: My Romance with Google

A very thoughtful life quandary. At least I thought so:

Reckless=Wreck List

The phrase "tryin' times" has always made me laugh for some reason...I don't know why, maybe it's because I picture an old Southern man with a cowboy hat with a blade of grass hanging out of his tobacco-laden mouth saying, "Yep...them's some tryin' times." However, after this past week I think I sympathize more. This week was the epitome of "tryin' times."

People being reckless=creating a new kind of list=The Wreck List.

1) My cell phone disappeared in a bale of hay: This is what I get for going to a fall festival and not reading the labels clearly and drinking quite a lot of cider from the, "Cider With A Little Somethin' Special" pot. Seriously. This past weekend Brian, Terri, and I made our way to Pasadena to see Ashley and celebrate her roommate's birthday. The backyard had been turned into this gorgeous fall landscape, complete with tea lights, fall food (pumpkin ale, brie-and-cranberry tart, mulled wine, pumpkin pies, and er, alcoholic cider...), a beer pong table, a beautifully painted banner, rocking chairs, and yes, bales of hay. Five hours after, on my way home I realized my phone that I am painfully anal about, was missing. And since last week it has not been seen since.

2) My car was totaled: Irony of ironies is more like it. The three of us had been having conversations during the week about how we had never been in a "serious" car accident and what type of car insurance the other had, etc. etc. On Wednesday I was supposed to go with Brian to meet Terri on UCLA's campus...while I was getting ready to go, something stopped it. I don't know what it was. Divine intervention? I don't know. But all of a sudden I didn't feel like going anymore. So, since Brian's car was in the shop, I gave him my car for the afternoon. And since I didn't have a phone at the time, I settled on the couch for an afternoon of writing and an apple and goat cheese salad. Suddenly, Terri Google chatted me, and all she said was, "This is not a joke. There's been an accident." And I cannot tell you how my heart plummeted. I felt my throat constrict and my eyes instantly fill. Brian had been driving through a light and this woman in an SUV sped on through to turn left and, without yielding, slammed right into my car, completely tearing the front. The car is gone. Like, there is no hope of reviving my dear Scoot-Scoot. But thankfully, by the grace of, well, something, Brian is fine. I am fine. When really, after this, it could've been much, much worse:


3) My 'I' key on my computer isn't working unless I punch it.

4) My pajama pants shrank, making me live up to middle school nickname, High Water: Shut up.

5) The fire from the stove almost took off my eyebrow when I was trying to extract a piece of carrot from the middle.

6) I turned 23 and almost had another crisis.

Reading numbers three through six makes me smile and marvel at the fact that these were my biggest concerns this past week. On my birthday, some of the people whom I had counted as my "best and closest friends" didn't call or text or Skype, and when my Netflix stopped working or the day, I almost had a tantrum. And then, after this week, I took a close look at my priorities.

The thing of it is, this 'Wreck List' seems bad. But really, it highlights the good, the great in fact. I'm alive and well (I mean, I could cut down my intake of bread and chocolate covered pretzels, but whatever). I have a job that I like a lot. I get to create. My real friends and hysterically quirky family love and support me. And at least I own pajama pants. So really...in spite of this list, I have a lot to be thankful. And the trifling things, like a so-called "friend" not staying in touch, a broken cell phone, or even a dead car...don't matter in the grand scheme of things. And so, as I sit here with a plate of falafel, wearing a long pair of mismatched argyle socks, I'm oddly content and ready to start anew.

:)

The Best Friend Rules

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.

:)

The God List

Paula Vogel told us about the list. Well...I shouldn't type 'list' in all lowercase like it doesn't matter. THE list. The God List.

A God List, she said, was a list in tens. The top ten theaters where you want your work produced. The top ten playwrights you love. The top ten people you'd dream of working with. It's a good concept, no?

However, post-Kennedy Center life has me making other types of God Lists--the top ten male actors I'd like to have a, how do I classily put it?-a dalliance with, the top ten reasons why I shouldn't run over LA pedestrians (they suck, plain and simple...one of them kicked my car two weeks ago), the top ten places where I could possibly be 'casually discovered' like Charlize Theron, the top ten reasons why I shouldn't evade sleep...it goes on.

I told Abbey about the concept of the God List, and she said she probably needed one..."The Top Ten Reasons Why She Shouldn't Kill Herself This Week." I laughed, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't make that same list while in the midst of rehearsal/Corn/exams/college life. However, I realized I hadn't made a not-so-random list in awhile. You know, a list that gives you perspective. Makes me smile. And so, here is my latest:

The Top Ten Reasons Why I Will Be Happy:

1) If I am not happy, I will laze on the couch and not go jogging/power walking in my new turquoise work-out shorts. Which means they will never be seen. Therefore, I will be happy because the world needs to see my baller turquoise workout shorts.

2) I'm where I said I would be. I followed my dreams.

3) My friends, spanning from Alaska to Texas to New York to North Carolina, prove that they are amazing to me everyday. The Skypes, the e-mails, the snail mail, their constant support makes this transition so much more bearable.

4) My family, crazy pants and loving, keep me grounded. Example: I went on my first audition for a television show last week, and later, my dad called and said: "Just because you're auditioning doesn't mean you can forget to call your aunt and tell her you're sorry you missed her in Phoenix. You're not Jennifer Aniston. Only she could do that. And even then she probably wouldn't."

5) We have a police station one block away from my apartment. Therefore, no one is re-enacting what they saw from Law & Order: LA.

6) I am only a hop, skip, and a jump away from the beach.

7) Friday Night Lights. The end.

8) My roommates are so encouraging. Even in the throes of unemployment, my PhD-student roommates always find time to forward me potential jobs they think I'd be good at. Terri tells me everyday that she believes in what I can do. We have dinner every night. Brian plays 'Words with Friends' with me (granted he kicks my ass, but whatever). It's good.

9) I know I can always come home.

10) Everyday, even when I get super frustrated, I make myself remember why I'm here. And that I'm capable. And then things are alright.

:)

Revivial of the Veggies

I wake up every night at a certain time. It's always around 2:05 a.m. that something, a feeling, a thud in my chest, and the fact that somehow, my right foot is poking out of the comforter, making me aware that I am way too tall. I have been in California for almost a month. I realized that I told a friend of mine today that I've only been here for two and a half weeks, but when I got back to the apartment later, I realized that my concept of time clearly needs updating.

I would be lying if I said that everything is perfect. I am not making poignant and subtly-funny movies yet. I am not the new head of SNL, nor am I the head of my own company. My socks are still unmatching, and lately I've been feeling awfully sluggish and cranky due to an unfortunate trip to Phoenix. However, as I was sitting in my bed tonight, contemplating what I wanted to peruse on Netflix, I realized something: I haven't been writing. I haven't been reading as much. I haven't eaten vegetables consistently. I haven't worked out in awhile. I haven't emoted a lot and allowed myself a lot of good cries over the fact that I miss my friends and family so much that sometimes I feel like my stomach has been punched. I haven't given myself enough credit. And I haven't been able to tell my brain to shut up, which results in nights like these.

Re-reading my last paragraph makes me realize: I am happy I am here. I made a big move. I am allowed to feel that 'L.A. Hustle' and apply to six jobs a day...but I am also allowed to feel, period. It's alright if I have a bad day. It's not alright if I take out my frustration in little ways...such as foregoing broccoli (which I love) and drowning my sorrows in Cheez-It's and Diet Coke (Ah, soda, my enemy. We meet again). Frankly, if I'm an asshole to my body, it's not going to make this transition any easier at all. So maybe, just maaaybe, writing again, remembering that edamame is indeed, my friend, and being a human when it comes to emotion, will make this better.

And this anxiety, this, freak-out about not managing to meet an imaginary deadline due to the snide remarks of people who really, in the grand scheme of things, do not matter and are probably unhappy because they are alone and have five chins: it needs to be vanquished. I love what I'm doing. I love that I am an actor and a writer. No one said it was easy. I feel like if it were easy I wouldn't want it. I read The Help during the summer and I cannot help but smile every time I think about this line: "You is kind. You is smart. You is important." I am going to say this to myself every morning and remember that I am a lucky, lucky girl to get to hustle around trying to get where I want to be.


1) I will write more.
2) I will do the one thing that scares me each day: drive around someplace new every day. The fact that someone yelled, "Pick it up, North Carolina!" while they were tailing me will not haunt me anymore. Rather, I will instead wish him adult acne for the rest of his life and move on.
3) Be grateful.
4) Be happy.
5) Go hiking.
6) Create.

P.S. That picture? Totally my first In-N-Out Burger experience. Not pictured: the fabulous chocolate shake that could probably cause miracles to occur.

New Year, New...Feet?

It's day two of a new semester and it's already a snow, er, ice day. I'm sitting in my room in my super comfy bed, a cup of coffee in hand, and a reading on Plato. Life is pretty fabulous right now.

It's 2011, y'all! 2011. The year I graduate. In four months. Asdkfjasdlkfjkjdakfjalkd! So far 2011 has consisted of the following: cobbling together resumes, auditioning, toting around a new purse (thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, sweet Kasey G!), and marveling at he fact that next year I will be in a different state.

Every new year I make a list of goals, most of them the same as that previous year; things like, "I won't bite my nails," and "I will fold my laundry and not let it sit on my floor," and "I will not treat my floor as an extra shelf." But really, these are more like daily goals that I try to work on. So I figured it was time to shake things up, and my lovely pal Kellie gave me an idea. Instead of focusing on a ton of mini-goals, I decided for the year of 2011, I would work on one thing that seems to have a common occurrence this semester and was the cause of my semi-demise towards the end of the semester: stress. My goal is to make sure that I don't get too over my head in my last semester of college, and to always make sure to check in with myself periodically. And maybe instead of saying yes to everything, thinking it through. Before last semester got super hectic, I loved going to the gym to take a class, run, and basically get out some frustration and kick in the endorphins. But I stopped going once school, Corn, the show, finals...everything started piling up. I really missed going and seeing the friends I made in toning and dance classes, and I missed getting the "me" time I knew was long overdue. Over winter break, I started going six times a week, taking classes, rocking out on the elliptical, and...taking yoga.

My dad said that taking yoga would not only work on building the flexibility I used to have when I was younger, but it would also give me a chance to check out and chill for about an hour. All of the stretching, all of the "downward facing dogs" and whatnot means you stare at your feet a lot. And frankly, after about two weeks I got tired of staring at my unpainted toes for so long. So I decided to make a little purchase:

And the rest is history. I feel almost dainty when I lean down to stretch out my back and calves and I see my classy red toes. We'll see how the rest pans out.

Alright, 2011, let's see whatcha got!

New MCG's

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.

Signs

I'm all about some signs. Like if I'm having a horrible day and suddenly I see a sliver of sunlight in the sky? I think, "WHOA, SNAP. THERE'S YOUR SIGN." I didn't used to think much of them...and then I came to college. And soon, whenever I began to question what it is I wanted to do or how to get from point A to point B, something would happen. Nothing major...no huge explosions or a wizard man appearing in my glass of water or anything. But still, they would make me wonder.

A few days ago I was hit with a DOOZY. The best kind of doozy I could possibly ever encounter. I was running on the trail at Meredith, listening to my Ipod, contemplating my life after this year. I've been feeling really unsteady about that. The excitement is there, but the number of changes that are going to occur have been making me a little tense. I've been wondering if there's even a shot for me up in NYC; I needed to clear my head, so to the trail I went. One ear in my headphones has been shot, so it doesn't work anymore, so my left ear was being serenaded by Ludacris' "My Chick Bad." It was a little gray outside. All of a sudden, I heard this very twangy, but very sweet voice:

"Hi! Hi. HI!"

I about jumped a foot in the air. I looked up...then I looked down. Right beside me, power-walking like there was no tomorrow, was a petite woman with long blond hair, cartilage piercings, extremely taut muscles, and a blue walking suit. Oh, and she almost came up to my shoulders. Did I mention she was petite in every sense of the word?

She admired my Meredith shirt (the one with the shoe on it), and proceeded to tell me that she was stressed out about one of her daughters. Her daughter was a dancer who was nervous about heading to North Carolina School of the Arts to study on a full scholarship and-

"Shut the front door!" It was my turn to freak out. "I went there for acting once! And I loved it! LOVED. IT."

And suddenly I had a walking buddy.

We were walking and talking about how her daughter was so scared to start this new chapter and that all she wanted to do was be a ballet dancer like her 91-year-old great-grandmother who did a dance at church and went down in a split in front of the congregation (she was talking a mile a minute and let me tell you, I was so entertained) and how it would be so easy to do the "practical" thing but that the heart wants what it wants.

The heart wants what it wants. I stopped walking for a moment. There I was,on the trail beside a mother who really could've passed for a college student, sweating like no other, hearing exactly what I needed to hear from a complete stranger. She was so warm and was immediately taken when I said that I was a theatre and English major. I confessed that sometimes it seems like it would be easier to be "practical" and do something like law or even go to grad school, but she immediately shut me up.

"You could never do that."

"Well, why?" I replied, feeling a little insulted at first.

"Well," She said simply with that Southern twang. "It's not what you want to do, honey child. You want to act. It's in your blood like dancing is in my daughter's. And it is just so cool that you want to take a risk and do something like that and if you keep on being smart like you seem to be, you will be just fine."

"Like me," She continued. "I was a nurse for years and delivered lots and lots of babies. But do you know what I wanted to be all along?"

"What?"

"A yoga instructor!" She said with a flourish (ah, so THAT'S how she got those phenom muscles!). "Yes, I did, yes, I did, I did all of those sun salutations and took two hundred and forty hours of training and am now loving my life."

Well how about that?

"I feel like it's a blessing that I met you," She told me. "What a nice walk it's been!"

Really, I felt like picking her up and squeezing the life out of her. I was her blessing? Switch that around, please.

"Whatever you do," She was beginning to run the opposite direction. "Never give up!"

And then it was suddenly sunny on the trail and I felt like I had broken through a million surfaces.

The girl with the iced mocha is a pretty happy person.

Fun Fact: I'm starting to wear my hair in its natural state: curly. And you know what? I think I like it.

I woke up at 11:51 this morning. I ran errands with Kellie and we stopped at Caribou and I bought myself the Almond Milk Chocolate Iced Mocha I have been craving. I went to the gym and ran on the elliptical while listening to part one of my summer playlist. But...ya wanna know the best thing I did today? Or rather, am starting to do?

Yup. I'm starting to tackle the disaster that is my room. I made a dent today; forty-five minutes, two garbage bags full. Sheesh. At least it's only papers, books, and clothes, and not, you know, rotting food. Technically this isn't just because of my sudden desire to clean. It's actually because of my mom. She surprised me in my apartment yesterday; my roommate let her in because I was napping. She crept into my room and gasped so loud, she woke me up. She didn't gasp because she was excited to see me or because I look like an angel while I sleep (ah, my modesty...), but because of the big blue bin overflowing with (clean) clothes and the fact that you couldn't see the floor because of a lot of soon-to-be-trashed papers. So after she took one of my roommates, MaryCatherine, and I out for dinner and a lovely dessert of chocolate cherry cheesecake, I promised her that I would clean. I mean, come on. I love my mommy.
And I figured she would be shocked with happiness :)

This past weekend has been absolutely divine. Well, divine and a little bit bittersweet. I went to the class of twenty-ten's Class Day and graduation. Saying a "see ya later" to Kellie, Amy, Wise Old SCR, Catie, Lindsay, Sam Cib, Sara, Abbey, Anna, Kasey, Amirah, Bria, Madison...the list of my goes on, but man, it was hard. It made think of what will be happening in about 363 days:

But for now I'm loving that my first week of summer has already begun on a pretty great note: plans of girls' trips to the beach and mountains, a possible trip to Maine, late night movie fests, roaming downtown Raleigh, reunions with best friends that I am so lucky to have but am cursed because they are so far, going to the gym everyday (I will make myself. I will.), Crime Show Wednesday night with Sabrina, thrift shop visits with Sheryl, quality time with my mom and dad, finally decorating my room, making lots of mixed c.d's for the everyday activities, READING things I like, learning to nap properly, experiment with my hair, reading scripts, writing everyday...the list will grow as the days laze on.