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I was a young tot when I was introduced to something that would virtually shape my whole third grade and beyond:
Indeed. A.J, the bad boy with the massive amounts of tattoos and facial hair; Nick, the blond baby-face with a bowl-haircut; Brian, the crooner with a guitar and a voice that sounded like he sometimes had a frog in his throat; Howie, the oddity of the bunch, along with Kevin, the one who was like, thirty, when he joined a boy band. Regardless, I rocked out hardcore to that album. I mean, really. "Everybody?" "Quit Playing Games with my Heart?" Best. Jams. Ever. I remember my dad constantly playing track number ten-"Get Down (You're the One for Me)"-every morning just so I would do the A.J rap and dance that I made up to it. It was our daily morning ritual and our daily bonding moment, and to be honest...I miss that.
I've been thinking about my dad a lot lately. I've been thinking about how our bonding rituals revolve around our love for Will & Grace, music, life conversations, and yes, Meredith traditions. Every single Cornhuskin' season, the man dons a thick jacket and thermal pants and baseball hat and sits through the skits, the dances....everything. And it's been making me a little bit sad that this is the last Corn he and my mom are coming to, the last Corn that we'll spend allllll Saturday morning reliving and comparing the Odds and Evens (he's a permanent Oddy. True fact), and the last Corn he'll get to see me let loose and get a little crazy. I'm beginning to realize that I think this Cornhuskin' is going to be bittersweet for me...and him.
This morning I decided to, er, "take a mental health day" from CORE, so I headed over to the Bean with my Shakespeare book to memorize my monologue for class. It was so beautiful outside and when I was on my way back, my windows were down, music was blaring, and I was telling myself, "This is going to be a GREAT day." As soon as I thought this, while coming up on the Meredith front drive, the funniest thing happened: the sprinklers turned on. And my windows were down. You see the connection. My face was sprayed silly, but I was still determined to have a great day. I leaned into the back of my super-messy, super-crammed car for my paper towels and my fingers brushed against something:
A semi-cracked, blue-and-cream album that had been scratched from so many listens. The first Backstreet Boy album coupled with tons of memories in the car with my dad. And I couldn't help but smile.
That's when I realized today was going to be a good day.
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.
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.
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.
Why in the name of Starbucks am I up at 6:02 a.m. writing? It's not because I have Starbucks, that's for sure. I dozed off at about two but was awakened at about four with my throat screaming in agony. The culprit? Temperature changes. I don't sleep like a normal person to begin with...does that ever happen to you? When you just lay there with all of these random thoughts in your head? Mine range from, "What am I going to do after class?" to "I wonder what Zac Efron is doing...like this very second," to "Where's my third grade yearbook?" Sheesh. But you know what? I've been sitting in my bed, wide awake since four, and I've been watching the world slowly wake up; and I have to say, it's been pretty cool. My apartment overlooks our section of parking so it's been nice to observe the woman whose dog yapped once and caused her to scream, "It is five freaking thirty, Chloe! You're going to wake people up!"; the gym addict who dropped a sock while flying out the door (it's still there, by the white Honda); and the mama and maybe-nine-year-old daughter taking a quiet stroll. I guess I could say that I'm lucky after witnessing a rather sweet, albeit sorta loud, awakening.
I've made a new friend this week. We started our bond yesterday:
Yes, I have started the thirty day shred. Twenty minutes of, well, right now pure pain but really when you're lying in bed (not knowing you're going to be up in a matter of hours with a burning throat), you feel pretty damn good about yourself. No lie, there are moments when I want to maim Jillian because of her constant, "These abs don't come for free!" This I know, J. This I know.
While I have a new buddy, I also lost a dear part of my daily life: the Ipod crashed. Like died. No recovery possible. I told my mom that I felt like I had lost a child and without even looking up from her book she goes, "I really hope you don't have children. For a long time." Hahahahahaha. I have a funny family.
