Oldies are always goodies

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.

S-S-S-S-Summa time...

I am in the possession of a teeny tiny black kitty that can be picked up with one hand. He's sweet, fiery, and has quite the sharp little claws. I would put a picture up but much like a frazzled mama of human babies, I have been running after this sweet little heathen all afternoon, so pictures have taken a backseat. However, he has a penchant for curling up on your tummy and happily shoving his face into one's Oddball wig, which makes him completely adorable. Notice how "he" doesn't have a name? This is the list I've been thinking of:

1) Scout
2) Boo (as in Radley)
3) Sebastian
4) Ferdinand
5) Charlie
6) Benji
7) Ollie
8) Pedo (which means fart in espanol...this kitty knows how to rock the apartment, let me tell you)

Suggestions?

Currently this week has been full of working, not sleeping very well, cooking, and reading lots. Oh, and watching television shows-LIKE GREY'S ANATOMY. That finale tonight? Whoooo buddy. McDreamy, McSteamy, Bailey, Hot Scottish Man, babies, DANG. I love the summer telly.

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.

'E' is for elephants, Elphaba, and end-of-the-year...

Want to know a secret? I'm not that happy about exams ending. See, the thing is a lot of my friends are super excited about being top dog around our beloved campus and are already plotting post-Cornhuskin' practice Cook Out runs, wonderful fall break trips, and ideas about-gulp-what to do after. That's where I'm not so keen on saying I'm a senior...this whole "after" business. But I remember, I was like this when high school was about to end. I refused to say that I was officially a college freshie until I was actually on Meredith's campus...and I'm smiling because though these years have flown by, they really have been the best.


So maybe, juuuuust maybe, when I'm done on Friday at noon, after all of my exams and papers have been turned in, I'll take a chance...and say that I'm a senior. Here goes...

It's just a listomania

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."

Radiating (and vomiting) sunshine

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...

Starting

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.