Denial...not just a river.

I've been putting off this blog post for awhile. By not writing about IT, buying black shoes for IT, buying a brightly colored dress for IT, writing a Class Day speech before IT the next day, and not thinking about decorating my cap for IT, I'd say I have been living my life blissfully in denial, smiling widely when someone dare utters the "G" word, only to feel my eyes grow hot and start to tear.

But alas, denial can only take you so far.

IT...ugh, fine, GRADUATION is this weekend. The four years I've spent at my second home, sweet Meredith College, are coming to a close. It's a frightening, wonderful, exhilarating, and honestly, upsetting feeling, a jumble of emotions that I cannot quite track. I feel like this last week has been so busy, not with anything academic related, but just...stuff. I've planned a theatre banquet, written another skit, folded one pile (out of ten) of laundry, gone on a safari for overdue library books, Web MD'd possible foot ailments...you get the idea. I haven't had time to just...be in my college, and take in the little things that have always made MC that much more special. I passed by Joyner this afternoon and was suddenly struck with the thought that I walked those halls as a student for the last time this past Sunday. I'm getting my Oddball wig ready for tomorrow, and I can feel that lump returning to my throat again, and that painful pang in stomach gets tighter.

Thankfully, tonight I saw three of my very best friends, all Meredith alums, and all so special to me in so many ways. Kasey, blunt one that she is, said, "It sucks for awhile. You'll always miss it...but it gets better each day." Kellie merely asked, "What do you need Kiki? What do you need right now?" Meghan just scratched my back, which just about put me to sleep. And I can bet you when I see Amy tomorrow, she'll probably do what she always does, and say wise words to me that are true and will make me cry.

The one thing that all three reiterated was to enjoy each moment and to not be sad. Because, in retrospect, it really is going to be a phenomenal weekend. Alright. Deep breath...and....GO.

And it's April.

"April," Amy Damone declared. "Is the most important month for a Meredith girl. No one else understands but those who are there."

And oh, how right she is. This month has been one of the most stressful (Convocations! Cap and gown purchases! Chord ordering! Wow, these are a lot of "C" things...), sad (a lot of "last's" are coming up for the seniors), and hectic (all I'm saying is who assigns a fifteen page paper in seminar? In the last month? When you're already ready to collapse? I ask you again, readers, WHO DOES THAT?!). But, in the midst of all of the craziness, I am finding little gems:

1) I'm finding that my parentals are pretty freaking great. They're starting to say things like, "When you move to L.A," and "When we find you, Syd, and Kathleen an apartment..." I think they're starting to realize that Kiki Subrawoman has a plan, a vision, a need for adventure, and a thirst to make it happen. I've been talking to my mom a lot more, and I'm finding that we actually have a lot in common in terms of how her mindset was in college. And I'm beginning to feel a lot more reassured.

2) It's okay to let people go sometimes. It sucks, that's for damn sure. But sometimes I look at how truly amazing my real friends are versus the ones who, well, just haven't been around. I see how different they are. This April has shown me that my fabulous friends really outdo themselves: from the e-mails, calls, texts, reassurances, and the constant, "Oh my God, you're going to be excellent in whatever you do!" it seriously makes me teary. I'm so grateful. Then I look at the ones who are the exact opposite. And then I realize that instead of focusing on the ones that aren't so great, I have the right to focus on the ones that are. And, as the always-wise Amy tells me, "You deserve great friends. Go getchu some."

3) Reconnecting with old friends is the best feeling in the world. I think my last semester has been fifty times better because of it.

4) It's perfectly okay to have an addiction to coffee, to the point where you have a myriad of mugs stashed in your car. I mean, really. I'm allowed a vice. I don't smoke. I work out (er...not as regularly right now, but I'm a senior, so whatever). I smile at cute children when walking by them. I deserve an addiction.

5) The best is yet to come. Cliche? Totally. The realization that this is absolutely true? Profound.

6) It's okay to use vindictiveness as motivation. There's always going to be people who doubt you. What I'm finding is that I'm going to use that to set my working soul on fire and prove them wrong. And then laugh and do cartwheels in my bright blue and yellow kitchen when I am successful.

7) I will find the perfect graduation dress. :)

Alright, April. Let's do this...

Alright, Internet, let's see whatcha got...

Confession: I am awful at creating online dating profiles. Why am I even on online dating websites? As lame as this sounds, after hearing my friends talk about it and how "it really is the New-Age form of finding one's soulmate," I decided to give it a shot. But honestly, I'm h-o-r-r-i-b-l-e at creating a profile because I'm not good at putting myself "out there." I have friends who don't even bat an eyelash as they fill out an OkCupid account or an "E-Harmony's Harmonious Relationship" questionnaire. I, however, have visions of serial assholes and Craigslist Killers dancing in my head as I type out my "About Me" summary. But this time, after talking it out with one of my best friends, I figured, why not? I'm definitely moving to California at the end of the summer and I'm in the throes of Senioritis (an epidemic that has struck the class of 2011), so instead of creating graduation announcements, I decided to fill out one of these said relationship websites. And all I have to say is oh. My. God. Maybe I won't "find my true match" or maybe Cupid will decide to evade this twenty-two year old biddy, but after perusing through quite a few profiles of "Striking eligible bachelors," I have realized that there needs to be guidelines for guys when creating a profile.

1) Thou shalt pick a decent username-I have stumbled upon profiles with the most ludicrous usernames. That one name can be an instant turn on or in my case, off. Because let me just say that I will probably not talk to you if your name is FluffyParrotMan39 or ViktoriousThugLyfe or even GitRDunBoi20435. This makes me think that you are either an animal hoarder with a fetish for feathers, missing a few teeth, or a really bad speller (and let me tell you that is an extreme turnoff).

2) Thou shalt proofread your profile-Maybe you meant to say, "If someone was in a burning building, I would run in and rescue them." Maybe you meant to say, "I would love to meet over a cup of coffee." But because of your slippery fingers or sheer idiocy, you have written, "If someone was in a burning building, I would run in with them," and "I would love to meet over a cum of coffee." Um. Bye.

3) Thou shalt not be an asshole with pictures-Okay, seriously? How many pictures of you with a red solo cup can you put up? And why, why, why would you put up pictures of you taking body shots off of a tranny hot mess of a girl? Hi. I do have some self-respect. A guy who messaged me (whose username was ironically YesIamBig) had his profile picture be a shot of him, sweaty and beer-laden with a bunch of Hooters girls and a puppy in his arms. I am not joking. Nor was I impressed.

4) Thou shalt NOT be an asshole in your profile-Example: I saw a profile in which the guy (who had more facial hair than a cult leader) had at the beginning: DISCLAIMOR: IF YOU ARE FAT, DO NOT TALK TO ME. IF YOU ARE BIGER THAN A MOUND OF DIRT, DO NOT TALK TO ME. I almost flipped a shit. First of all, remember rule two? SPELLCHECK, you idiot. And two, SERIOUSLY? Seriously. That's all I can really say to that. Another thing that's really aggravating, as least to me, is when I read profiles that start like this: "Ladies deserve men that are classy and fabulous. I am both of those things." and "I am one of the nicest guys you will ever meet in your life." Ohhhh, and let's not forget: "I'm very respectful of girls, and am a fan of casual sex." It makes me shake my head. And laugh. And then want to cry because this is the pool of guys I have to choose from? I'd rather die lonely surrounded by spinach and artichoke dip and a season of Glee. Sheesh.

5) Thou shalt not be pushy-No. I will not go over to your house for the first date. I don't know if you're Jack the Ripper in disguise or if you have a Confederate flag waving from your roof. I will meet you in public, preferably over coffee or Barnes and Nobles, some place where throngs of people can see us and potentially pull the, "I'll-Pretend-I-Know-You-But-I-Really-Don't-But-You-Need-To-Be-Rescued-From-This-Creeper" move.

I bet you there's more guidelines that'll pop up as this experiment goes on. But at least for now, I can happily say that this has been quite a fun form of entertainment. And on that note...onward!

A little bit o' hope.

Thanksies need to be made to my beautiful friend, Sam Cib. Here she is, fellow blogettes:

Sam not only made my day today by telling me that The Perks of Being a Wallflower is being made into a movie, but last week, thanks to Facebook creeping, she accidentally introduced me to a blog that has been copied, bookmarked, and tabbed on my crumbling MC laptop, right next to my Y schedule: http://thefrenemy.tumblr.com/. Seriously. Best. Blog. Ever. I wish I could write as well as this person does. Today this blogger basically took my thoughts about e-books and Nooks and created the most eloquent post ever. My favorite passages:

"There is nothing, nothing like a book that is yours. The tattered and wrinkled dog, the pages you have scanned over and over, rubbed your fingers down the spine as real as human flesh. The first time you read a book that is yours is like finding a soulmate. It could be a sentence, three sentences, a paragraph before you know. You are hooked. You hug the book. You are elated at finding the kind of words that speak to all the parts of your bones and organs. You take it with you to all the apartments you’ll ever have, packing it safely in the boxes you write BOOKS on. You underline the BOOKS part in the box it is in so you know to be extra careful with it. You go to certain pages when you are sad. 97 will make you cry. 313 will make you laugh. 14 contains the life mantra you live by. You look at the corner crease in the upper right back cove- that came when you let your best friend borrow it. The ripped binding. The underlined sentences. The oil stain in the third chapter. It is as weathered and loved as your very first blanket. The reminder of somebody you loved, you take it back to the time in your life you were in Pennsylvania whipping your hand out the car window. This book is as memory inducing as a favorite song. For me, this book is The Picture of Dorian Gray. For you, it is whatever made you love the written word. Pull it out when you want to visit beloved friends."

"With real books, there are moments in a a doctor’s office. You watch a girl, maybe fifteen, pull out the Great Gatsby. You remember the moment you fell for it during the bare legged swing and lemonade sip of your sophomore summer. That month you soaked up the pain of love with the kind of awe and understanding that you will never be as brilliant as Fitzgerald. Or Vonnegut. You remember reading sentences from the great and the dead that throw you against a wall or rip your heart out, so you touch the pages and run your fingers down the ink in substitute. There are moments on the subway. A cute, tousled hair kind of guy pulls out a book you have never read. You watch his face, the movements of his mouth as he soaks it up and for a moment you love him. You take out your book, ruffle through your purse, find that paperback and let somebody fall in love with you as you struggle to read with one hand gripped on the crowded railing."

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

This week has been an emotional one. One of the girls in the theatre department just lot her mom. I think as you go through college and get involved with your major, the other people who are with you become family, and even if you don't hang out with them daily, there is the sense of fierce protectiveness and love. So when one loses someone or something, it affects everyone. I'm not going to lie, it made me feel a lot of things: incredibly sad, the shock that while I may be stressing about little things, there are much bigger things happening, and the sudden need to call my own mom, apologize for our fight last week, tell her that I love her a lot, and take her off of my "Block" list from Facebook (yes, I took her off of Facebook. What can I say, I was mad...). And I guess I needed to read something, see something that would maybe restore a little sparkle, a little hope in my world. And well, for me, that other blog post did just that.

So, Sam? Thanks, lady.

Looooooove

Valentine's Day is next Monday and last week I had a voracious appetite for doing the very things that sometimes make me irritable around this time of year:

-Surfing wedding blogs
-Looking at every single wedding profile on The Knot
-Reading the "Happy Couple" section in People and Self
-Couple watching in Starbucks...and making faces
-Playing the, "How? How does this stanky celeb have a boyfriend?" with only the closest of my girlfriends (which is mean, I know. But like Spence says, sometimes it's just necessary)
-Eating chocolate but not going to yoga

And then I have to remember the things that make me happy:

+I do what I want. Within reason.
+My time is mine.
+I have a fabulous group of girlfriends that I wouldn't trade with anyone for the world
+I am getting ready to embark on an equally fabulous adventure next year
+I am actually quite happy with the way things are going in my life.
+And on Monday I am going to (quite contentedly) make handmade Valentines (goofy, of course) for my best friends and treat myself to some much-needed Ben and Jerry's. And probably send my dad an e-mail demanding that he be my Valentine.
+Yoga class. Fine, fine...I'll go.

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!

Winta break happenin's

I found out a couple surprising things today:

1) My dad is fostering another collie (Chloe got adopted!), and brought sweet Addison home: Guys, she is SUCH a sweetheart! Though she did follow me around and gave me "woe-is-me" eyes while I nibbled on my Panera dinner, I instantly fell in love with this dog. My grandma even commented (very dryly, might I add), "Wow, look at that...Mommy and Baby."


2) My dad knows the "Bed Intruder" song: I know this because this fellow (not the elephant) serenaded me with it tonight.

It is now clear to me that we indeed share the same DNA.

Tomorrow I leave for the great and snowy state of Ohio where the following will probably ensue:

1) My cousin Divya and I will be asked to help do something constructive, like help build a shelf for my aunt's school and we'll end up breaking it.

2) The adults will argue (loudly) when we're out for dinner over who will pay the bill and my dad and uncle will end up arm wrestling (in public).

3) Divya and I will probably get a bottle of wine and laugh at them.

4) My incredibly sweet former pharmacist grandfather will lecture us on the dangers of taking Midol during "that time" and make us do Yogi headstands in the corner where the big green potted plant sways dangerously.

5) Div and I will eat a good lunch and said grandfather will probably try to forcefeed us some more because we only had one sandwich, not twelve.

6) We'll watch a romantic comedy and when the couples kiss, all of the adults will blush/not-so-subtly turn away and then try to cover our eyes with pillows (i.e. smother us).

7) Someone will slip on a patch of ice and go to the emergency room. One year it was my grandfather. Next it was my dad (who says he slipped because he was carrying a shelf; I believe he slipped because he was grooving to ABBA, which was playing on the Ipod at the time).

8) Div and I will be banished to the basement but will make up for it by eating everything in the pantry late at night.

And you know what? I. Cannot. Wait.