Tag Archives: sentimental

Things Girlfriends Do

Posted on April 1, 2013 | 2 Comments

I was never given the manual on this.

You know, “The Girlfriend Manual”.

I was never told how many days I wait before I call you ‘official’, before I move you to my phone’s “favorites”, before I see something at a store and mentally bookmark it as a gift I want to buy for you later.

I was never told if I’m supposed to draw your name with hearts on my notebook, steal your jacket to wear, if I’m supposed to change my Facebook profile status, or put “#blessed” as the caption of every photo of us.

I don’t know the appropriate responses or have the scrapbooking material for “The Story Of Us” and I don’t know where to get them.

And then, of course, there’s the rules.

If I make you dinner, I’m revoking all my feminist powers. If I lean over to kiss you at a stoplight while it’s red, I’m too touchy-feely. If I agree with you, I have no opinion of my own, but if I disagree too much, I’m mean and bitchy. If I call you daily or, heaven forbid, text you two times in a row before you respond to the first one, I’m clingy. If I make you a mix cd, I’m cheesy. If I make you pay, I’m old fashioned. If I ask to split the check, I’m not grateful and am insulting your job and manhood. If I offer to pay, I’m emasculating you. If I buy you clothing, I’m too mothering. If I introduce you to my parents, I’m moving too fast. If I don’t introduce you to my parents, I’m not interested at all. If I like what you like or try to understand your interests, I’m trying too hard. If I don’t like what you like, then we have nothing in common and are doomed to fail. If I ask who that girl was, I’m jealous. If I don’t ask who that girl was, then later on I’ll be told I “should have seen the signs”. If I talk to other men that aren’t you, I’m a flirt. If I don’t like your friends, I’m a horrible person, but, if I try too hard to “bro” out, then it’s fake. If I get excited and call you my boyfriend and enjoy spending time with you and actually maintain a somewhat traditional stable relationship, then I’m a sucker and just “one of THOSE girls”, but if I’m not interested in a relationship, then there’s something wrong with me.

So it’s a bigger society issue, I guess.  This really is a bigger, more in-depth blog post that I should take more seriously. I should really investigate culture’s laws for “women in relationships” or the way pop culture tells you to be a “girlfriend” or the constant criticism of young women that makes growing up or raising a daughter in this twisted world seem terrifying, but really, I just wanted to say that I’m glad I never got the manual.

Because, from what I can tell, you haven’t read it either, and that puts me at ease.

So, you do you, and I’ll do me, and we’ll figure out ‘us’.

And I ‘ll try to stop writing about it so often, because, that’s probably something girlfriends do.

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Dear 2012 (At The End)

Posted on December 31, 2012 | Leave a comment

Dear 2012,

3 states and 6 cities later, and I still don’t think I believe it, but here we are in Nashville. I can honestly say that I never would have even predicted this, sitting in San Marcos, Texas on a couch watching Coldplay and confetti on PBS (in fact- the first episode of Austin City Limits I ever worked!) this time last year.

But, oh boy, it’s been a YEAR!

You’ve definitely been the hardest year of my life, and although there have been times I have hated you, I wouldn’t trade your worst moments for right now.

You’ve been the year that I mourned graduating college and the friendships I made there that are so hard to keep track of now, but I fight for daily – whether through phone calls or text messages or just gchats that say nothing but “I MISS YOU” for days. You’ve been the year of different hair colors, the year of caffeine headaches and flight delays, the year of dance parties and hugging a lot of people, and hugging even more dogs. You’ve been the year of crying from laughing so hard, the year of taking the stigma out of 22 years of panic attacks, the year of learning new faces and new roads in new cities. You’ve been the year of growing up even more than I wanted you to be, the year of comparing everything to “Girls”, the year of sriracha-on-everything, the year of learning to trust my instincts, the year of meeting a boy with a fantastic mustache who bought me a Shiner (and the rest is history) and the year of discovering that being happy and overly-excited about life is not a crime!

You’ve been the year of relationships – from boys to family to friends to coworkers to strangers to Twitter to Jesus to neighbors to musicians to pen pals – and you’ve turned everything I knew about communication and love in those relationships upside down, in the best possible way. You’ve been the year of unlearning old habits of thinking ‘you’re just not good enough’ and the year of letting myself be loved for me, quirks and passions and all.

Together, 2012, we made it through unemployment that felt like it might steal all my joy and sanity for 6 months followed by 2 months in the desert only to pick up and move randomly and land my first big girl job in a week (!!!!!!!), and all the stresses and excitements of those decisions.

I probably didn’t sleep enough, I probably wore my vocal chords out singing to Adele’s “21″ frequently and lord knows I scuffed up some shoes dancing to Motown and Jack White. I probably should have called home more, I probably should have been more organized, I probably should have answered more emails in a timely manner.

But hey, I fixed that leak in my car by myself! I handled those awkward hard conversations! I wrote those songs and I shared them! I showed up on time to those interviews, I ate those vegetables, I streeeeeetched that budget even when it was hard, and I feel all the better from it.

2012, I’ll miss you and I’ll look back at you wistfully, probably, and someday romance this terribly confusing time of my 20s, but for now, you should know – it’s nothing personal against you – that I am really wholeheartedly looking forward to what 2013 can dish out and bring me.

However, if you talk  to 2013, could you please tell him/her I would like it if Damien Rice and Justin Timberlake both finally put out new albums? And if all the puppies without homes could just make their way to my doorstep? And if maybe I could wake up one day and be able to walk in heels flawlessly, play guitar like Jimmy Page and sing like Sharon Jones?

Appreciate it. At the very least, can you tell 2013 to bring more opportunities to bring my taxidermy stuffed bobcat around? Just doesn’t get enough love.

Photo on 2012-12-21 at 17.09
Ferocious Hugs and Champagne-at-Midnight Kisses,

Lion

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Feelings. I Have Them.

Posted on December 2, 2012 | 3 Comments

Being tender and open is beautiful. As a woman, I feel continually shhh’ed. Too sensitive. Too mushy. Too wishy washy. Blah blah. Don’t let someone steal your tenderness. Don’t allow the coldness and fear of others to tarnish your perfectly vulnerable beating heart. Nothing is more powerful than allowing yourself to truly be affected by things. Whether it’s a song, a stranger, a mountain, a rain drop, a tea kettle, an article, a sentence, a footstep, feel it all – look around you. All of this is for you. Take it and have gratitude. Give it and feel love.

                             — Zooey Deschanel

I know everyone has their opinions on Zooey Deschanel (I dedicated a whole post to it) and just women in the entertainment industry in general, and I wanted to write a big post today completely unrelated to any of this, but I read this quote and I felt like it was everything I have wanted to say and believe and share for most of my sensitive little life.

I can breathe in this quote for a while, because, like Zooey and also like my soul sister in Mean Girls who doesn’t even go here, I just have a lot of feelings.

We can blame it on the cold weather making me more sensitive, or we can all make another joke about women having crazy hormones that make them feel too much, or my sentimental heart, but sometimes I just want to drop all my cool cards and tell everyone that I feel things! And I can’t stop feeling them! And maybe I feel them too much! And maybe I love everything too hard and too much! And maybe I am very affected by good songs, baby animals, the way christmas lights look through the car window when you’re driving at night, a chapter from book whose words hit you square in the chest, and a sweet text message that I didn’t know how much I needed! And maybe I should stop feeling so much and loving so much and so often! And stop sharing my feelings with people I barely know, like at the grocery store when the deli lady simply asked you how your day is going and you let her know you’re afraid of adulthood!

Or maybe not.

Maybe I just need a nap. Or a stack of pancakes. Or to figure out how to not let myself get so wrapped up in little stresses.

Or maybe I should just feel things, no matter how messy or out of place or obnoxious they might be. Maybe I should just love things and forget about all the rest.

Or maybe I should just share a cup of coffee with Zooey, because lord knows I’m ‘quirky’ enough.

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That One Red Sweatshirt

Posted on October 15, 2012 | Leave a comment

I really like being warm.

I am consistently cold. I don’t know if it is that I just am part amphibian and have cold blood, or if I am like Superman and need to charge in the sun to gain my power, but I’m consistently freezing. I am a little bundle of shivers most days. Any weather under 85 degrees is a struggle for me.

I frequently live in scarves and leggings and furry vests, not only for style, but for layers. I love wearing boots and obnoxious ponchos and I steal the covers like nobody’s business. My parents gave me a Snuggie for Christmas and I use it 100% seriously with no irony. I bundle in blankets and sip hot coffee and tea like it’s going out of style.

So, I try a lot of methods to get warmer, but most notably, now that I’ve moved to Nashville, I wear your old sweatshirt that I borrowed from you one time and never gave back.

Remember that red hooded number?

It’s almost a prize to me and by now, I don’t know if you even remember it. You wore it in high school, its red “Abercrombie” logo proudly displayed (LOL, Abercrombie & Fitch) but the most significant thing to me is that you primarily wore it before we ever met.

Is it too cheesy of me to think about the days you spent in it before I stole it? I just know that the last time you wore it consistently you were young and you were probably writing screenplays and listening to Interpol and maybe feeling like you didn’t quite fit in. I know this because I was feeling the same exact way, only I was on the other side of the city, writing blog posts and listening to Ben Kweller, and wearing a sweatshirt with some stupid graphic that you’d probably make fun of now.

Somehow this sweatshirt accompanied you to college, where we met and where most of your wardrobe either spent a lot of time with me or near me or living below me. (I mean, your plaid shirts and I have practically had whole relationships, but that’s another story altogether.) But, I’m sure I was cold one night, as usual, and you gave it to me so I’d stop complaining or maybe I took it because I felt entitled as your best friend and considered your things basically mine. Either way, I have it, I brought it to Tennessee, and I wear it.

I wear it because it’s roomy and when I’m feeling too lazy to carry a purse, I can put everything I need in the front pocket. I wear it because it makes me think of college and because it’s easy to find in my closet. I wear it because it reminds me of you, and right now I miss you so much that it physically hurts most days.

But I think the main reason I wear it is because I’m sentimental and in some stupid way, wearing it makes me feel like you’re gonna come walk through my door and demand it back, even though I know you’re in Texas.

(And besides, even if you did demand it back, you’d be bluffing, because we both know you’re all about cardigans and real coats now.)

So thanks for keeping me warm, even thousands of miles away. I owe you some mittens or something.

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We Met In A Baggage Claim

Posted on September 7, 2012 | 4 Comments

I’m very hesitant to write about anything super-personal on the internet.

LOL, JK.

Well, false. I actually share my neuroses and anxieties with y’all all the time, internet, and I wax poetic about my quirks and problems and shortcomings, but I am hesitant to write about anything personal that involves someone else, because then I’m that girl. I’m that girl, airing my relationships for everyone to see, whether the intended party signed up for their name to be strewn across a webpage or not.

But.

I mean, I tried this time.

You see, there’s this little buzz in the back of my head that’s been itching to write about this for a while. Nothing overwhelming, not even the beginning of the whole story, but still something. So, here goes.

The Chicago airport is not where I expected anything significant to happen.

The Chicago airport was supposed to be a stop that didn’t matter, literally, a go-between and maybe a few minutes of me reading an InStyle with an overpriced latte while instagramming a photo of my shoes out of boredom.

But, it was significant.

We met at a baggage claim, which I think describes us maybe better than anything else could. A place that was full of people, full of distraction, and full of constant change. You’re not supposed to spend a long time at a baggage claim, you know. Just grab your bags and move on. By all intents and purposes, we shouldn’t have met. We should have just kept walking across the terminal to our respective locations. I mean, I know we were headed to the same place and probably would have run into each other anyway, but there’s something about suitcase carrier 5 that seemed to change things.

So, we met amidst so many ridiculous things.

I can, of course, remember my outfit and remember my hair color and style at the time, but I don’t remember the first thing you said– only that it made me laugh, and that you continued to make me laugh and distract me from important things. So everything else – people, appointments, cups of coffee – got half of my attention that weekend and even though that might usually cause me anxiety, I thought nothing of it. I’m always all-talk, but you could keep up and you could play along with all my puns and singalongs. We compared things in common and made far too many of the same references and got mad when we agreed too much.

Because, let’s face it, the whole thing was somewhat sickeningly adorable, and you and I were much too cool for that sort of thing. We were both chasing after being independent and renegades and maybe one of us was wearing a ridiculous graphic t-shirt that said “Free Spirit” and taking it a little too close to heart, but still. We were not the sort of people to read Nora Ephron books and believe them, to let romantic comedy plot lines become reality or to take stock in a one-time meeting.

We were supposed to be moving on. Getting on the next plane. Taking our suitcases with us, not opening them and unpacking our lives and talking about important things and agreeing so much.

So, we met in a baggage claim, and I still don’t know what to do about it all.

And now, a couple months and a couple thousand miles later, when you look at me and sing, “we found love in a baggage claim” to the tune of Rihanna’s “We Found Love (In A Hopeless Place)” like you always do, I’ll still roll my eyes, but hey, maybe one day I’ll end up writing it all down and it’ll seem less crazy and less cryptic.

But, probably not.

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I Used To Be So Reassured (+ Time Travel!)

Posted on April 10, 2012 | 6 Comments

Hi, internet. I’m still unemployed for those of you wondering (all 3 of you) and I don’t say that to make you feel sorry for me, just to keep you informed and because well, it’s part of this story.

You see, when you’re unemployed, you have a whole lot of free time on your hands. During my large block of free time today, after filling out applications and googling pictures of puppies (because that is another essential task), I decided to go back and clean up some of my old blogs, seeing as I’ve had quite a few. I was going through old entries from several blogs ago (oh yes, I was one of those special breeds of the internet generation that had a blog in middle school and high school…and God bless your heart if you read them and are still deciding to read my words now) and I found this:

April 1, 2008: “There’s a few future plans I have planned out and heard more on lately, but overall, I’m just trusting God and putting it all in his hands. I hardly know everything, but what do I know? I’ve got a list of books to read and a set of records and box sets of LPs that Olivia is letting me borrow that I can’t even believe I am actually hearing and that amaze me. There’s also a graduation date to look forward to. And larger than that, I’ve got an intense passion for music that overwhelms me sometimes, a family and group of friends that I run out of fantastic adjectives for, and a desire to serve in some way. I know that those will be there no matter where I’m living or what I’m doing years from now, and actually, yes, that’s very reassuring.”

I wrote it almost exactly 4 years ago, about to graduate high school. The “box sets of LPs” were the Live 1975-85 Boxset and I was juuuust beginning to listen to Bruce Springsteen. I was 17, I was idealistic, and I was so reassured.

I’m definitely not the same girl I was then. I look different in nearly every way and I sound different too. I drink a lot more coffee than I used to four years ago and since then, I’ve also touched Bruce Springsteen’s guitar while he was playing it. In comparison to four years ago, I’ve picked up a ukulele and guitar, fortunately, and unfortunately, I read less books. I am, for all intents and purposes, better than I was four years ago, more educated than I was four years ago, and older than I was four years ago (duh) but that peace and reassurance about the future and about my life that I had four years ago? I’d give anything to have those back, instead of this post-grad anxiety.

I have been obsessed with the idea of time travel for years. No, really.  REALLY OBSESSED. Back to the Future was my Dad’s favorite movie and was on repeat growing up. Marty McFly stole my heart at a young age with his orange vest and guitar solo. Today I look into buying a used DeLorean on Ebay maybe once a month, and don’t even get me started on my adoration for Doctor Who and how I wish for the Tardis. Heck, I even loved Stargate and Battlestar Galactica for their crazy timeline drama. So, all this geekery and obsession leads me to love discussions about flux capacitors and what it might look like to go back into the past.  I talk about time travel with no qualms at all. However, reading something I wrote and craving to be able to write it again, to go back there when I thought I’d come so far, baffles me more than any space-time continuum.

Is it too weird to think that you should take advice from…yourself?

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I Really Loved My Apartment

Posted on March 1, 2012 | 2 Comments

I moved out of my last college apartment officially almost a week ago. This might explain my lack in writing, but really, I’ve just been attempting to put something together that doesn’t make me need to get a tissue mid-paragraph.

Here, while I compose myself, observe this picture of me and Christie dancing in our former apartment:

I could be overly emotional and ramble in this blog post. I could definitely talk for paragraphs in detail about how moving out was a metaphor for finally leaving college and how each piece of  furniture that left was a piece of the last 4 years finally leaving. I could joke about pawning all our leftover food and cleaning supplies on people even if they didn’t want it, post a link to “The Scientist” since Christie sang it nonstop the last few days we were living there, or tell you about how dramatic drinking the last cup of coffee on our final morning really ended up being.

However, I’m going to attempt instead to keep it simple, which is a new concept for me.

Moving is hard. It’s stressful and messy and at times you just want to throw everything away, but then you can’t throw ANYTHING away because you’re attached to it. We grow attached to stupid things like posters or plastic flowers or knickknacks on shelves because they represent little memories. I spent a good twenty minutes deciding which coffee cups to get rid of. I considered keeping a bottle of coconut lotion with 2 drops left in it. I had trouble fitting all my shoes into my car.

While all these moments could be the ones I remember or the ones that stand out, the one memory that will forever be representative will be the very last one. Christie and I had packed up nearly everything in boxes, cleared out all our stuff, removed all her paintings off the walls and we decided to take a little lunch break. We hopped in her car to go get sandwiches and she predicted I’d get the jalapeno chips, and of course, I did. We brought them back, and since everything was gone, we sat down on our wood floor and had a little ‘last supper’ together.  Our apartment had always been full of our friends and bustling with activity, but in those few minutes, it was just the two of us, roommates, and our last string of Christmas lights still plugged in. We didn’t talk about the sadness of leaving or our next plans, we just laughed about the streamers still on the ceiling from all the parties we’d thrown. We giggled about inside jokes and spoke in ridiculous accents. We talked about what we’d learned over the past year and sure enough, we talked about boys and flirting and relationships and marriage and all the places we saw ourselves in 5 years. When we finished, we sipped the last of our diet cokes and finished packing the last things we had left. Two hours and her parents’ truck later, we handed over our keys and were officially moved out.

If you asked me to be honest, of course I’m sad about moving out of San Marcos. I’m upset about having to move home without a job, I’m nervous about ever finding one and I’d give anything to be back in our rickety little apartment, even if I was just sitting on the wood floors. But, as I’m having to tell myself each day, the best parts of my little story aren’t over. Apartment C104 was one of the absolute greatest times in my life, contained the most wonderful best friend and roommate and basically other half-of-my-brain, was located above 4 of my other favorite people and neighbors in the world who basically let me live on their couch and in their lives for months, had a spectacular living room for movie nights across from one of the busiest kitchens for grilled-cheese-parties, and it was a fantastic little place to call home for a few months, but it isn’t the last of great times.

I’ll remember this past year in my favorite space bittersweetly, but for now it’s a little more bitter than sweet. I look forward to the future, but, all I’m saying is that the next apartment has some pretty big shoes, and wood floors, to fill.

And also, to whoever happens to move in next, good luck figuring out the light switches!

(Photo via Kasey Morgan Photography!)

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All These Things That I’ve Done

Posted on January 9, 2012 | 6 Comments

Sometimes you are home from college cause you graduated and although you feel accomplished, it sinks in that you don’t have a job yet or a future planned and you get really scared-out-of-your-little-mind and nervous about the uncertainty.

Sometimes this uncertainty drives you crazy and you just sit at your computer on job-searching websites for hours, not sure where to start and frustrated with the results.

Sometimes you take a break from this ridiculous search and decide to do something productive, like, say, clean your room that you haven’t lived in for 4 years completely.

Sometimes when you’re cleaning, you stumble across childhood artifacts and old notes that you used to pass to your best friend in middle school, speaking in codenames about the boys you liked and the dreams you had for when you grew up, and you read them with a 21-year-old mindset and it seems so hilarious and bittersweet to see how much you’ve changed, or rather, how much you really haven’t.

Sometimes, buried beneath the notes and old ticket stubs, you find your old green 2004 iPod mini, or rather, your first real love.

Sometimes you take this little iPod, and even though it seems ridiculous, you hook it up to charge and find yourself looking through it eagerly.

Sometimes you realize this old iPod holds so many of the keys to your heart, so many of the melodies that you held onto tightly, as well as nearly 100 hand-crafted playlists that you painstakingly made at the age of 13 to express nearly every emotion and every situation perfectly.

Sometimes you wonder how you had real friends with such OCD playlist tendencies.

Sometimes you take this old iPod and hook it up to your car stereo and press shuffle, just for kicks, and then for the next two hours, you know every single line of every song that plays.

Sometimes these old songs make you happy, sometimes these songs make you question your music taste and sometimes they make you laugh out loud.

Sometimes you run across a song that you forgot how much you loved. I mean, you know it can be a little cheesy and that no one really listens to The Killers anymore, but you remember when this song was it. You remember using ridiculous words like EPIC to describe it. You remember when your best friend played it for you for the very first time after a particularly long school day full of low self-esteem and it cheered you up. You remember singing along to it with your friends on countless car rides through your suburban neighborhood and you remember seeing it in several inspirational online videos for all sorts of nonprofits and campaigns. You remember it being ‘over-played’ in your young hipster mind, but still loving it. You remember throwing your fist in the air and feeling a little part of your chest swell when Brandon Flowers & company repeated “I got soul but I’m not a soldier!” over and over again. You remember, for whatever reason, this song being one you were never able to skip past, never able to ignore, never tired of. You remember always hearing it and feeling infinite.

And sometimes, you hear it again, driving down the road on a day where you feel like you have no idea what to do with your life, and everything comes rushing back. You soak up every little lyric and rhythm and cymbal crash, and you remember that you’re okay and that life isn’t so overwhelming and dramatic.

And after all, sometimes you need a five minute and six second singalong to stay sane.

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Graduation Day (Part 2) / THANK YOU!

Posted on December 19, 2011 | 2 Comments

So, I did it. I graduated college! I walked across a stage and didn’t trip and someone university-esque handed me a diploma frame! Hooray!

This is my favorite photo from graduation, even with the indoor lighting and green tint because it means to much that I was able to be in the same ceremony with three of the most influential friends in my life-

You should hire all of us!!! But seriously, I will now plug these beautiful graduates.

(left to right)

Christie is my roommate, my bandmate, and one of the greatest ladies in the world. She is always such a positive little light of energy and practically radiates love, not to mention that her voice is crazy-good. Go read her blog here!

Ryan is such a force of creativity and fun in my life and I am so glad I got to know and live above him! Keep his design site bookmarked, it will be up soon and will be wonderful! (He also designed Olive & Chuck’s twitter page!)

Zack is the best friend that I stumbled upon and had no idea I could have so much in common with. He is an AMAZING writer and the funniest person I know. Go read his blog here!

Looking at us 4 in our caps and gowns, all I could think of was this picture:

-(blame my pop-culture obsession.) I guess it could be worse. The O.C. was one of my favorites and my 3 friends are my favorites, so it works! And to you three, THANK YOU for being such great friends!

Now, on to the real thank yous for the past 3 & 1/2 years:

To anyone I’ve met over the past 21 years, to old friends from high school, to anyone who’s ever bought me coffee, to anyone who helped raise me, to anyone who has hired me, to anyone who sang with me, to anyone who helped me do math homework (because seriously, math is the WORST), to anyone who lent me their jacket when I was cold, to anyone who sent me a hilarious youtube video or picture of a puppy, to anyone who helped me study, to anyone who helped me procrastinate, to anyone who challenged me to think differently, to anyone who humored my love of puns, to anyone who let me force my musical taste on you, to anyone who danced with me even if you had two left feet, to anyone who listened to me rant about my bad day, to anyone who watched tv with me til 4 am, to anyone who helped me pick out an outfit, to anyone who baked a pie with me, to anyone who sat next to me in class, to anyone who let me cry on their shoulder, to anyone who walked around Target with me aimlessly just because, to anyone who prayed for me and to anyone who has ever read, commented or ‘liked’ this little blog-

THANK YOU!

I would not be the lion-haired girl that I am without your help, encouragement, honesty, love, support, phone calls at 3 am, jokes, songs and hugs. You are the reason that I love so wholeheartedly and cannot wait to see what the next chapter of my life holds.

I’ll love college deeply, I’ll probably still talk and write about it, but honestly – I don’t have any jobs lined up yet. I am looking, all around and beyond, but I’m not too worried. I know something will fall into place. However, shameless plug, if you hear of anything you think my lion talents might be lent well to, feel free to let me know, tweet me, leave a comment or email me at kelseyrmanning@gmail.com !

Finally, this blog has been something I’ve always wanted to do more with and now that I’m out of school, I hope to be revamping these parts and being more consistent with posts. If you have any criticism or ideas for me, I’d love to hear from you. If you have any design tips, send them my way! Please contact me with anything you like/dislike!

And if you could do me a HUGE favor, I’d love if you’d ‘like’ this blog on Facebook, right HERE. It would be awesome to get an idea of who I’m reaching with this blog and how I can better grow as an online brand & presence!

So, to repeat myself for the tenth time, THANK YOU. The internet can be a lonely place sometimes, but I am so happy to be able to have found my little corner and feel so loved. Yall are the best!

(OC Photo found: here)

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A Letter To My 18-Year-Old Self

Posted on December 16, 2011 | 9 Comments

dear 18-year-old self,

hi, i’m about to graduate in 5 hours and you haven’t even entered it yet. get ready.

i know you’re scared of college, i know it doesn’t make sense yet and i know it’s not exciting yet, but it will be. you’re going to learn A LOT in the next 4 years (spoiler alert: it’ll actually only take you 3 and 1/2 and you’ll wonder why you graduated early) but i just wanted to share a little advice with you before you enter the greatest university in the world (go bobcats!!!).

based on what i have learned in these college years, here’s some wise words and Advice from me to you:

buy someone a drink. coffee or alcoholic. when they’re having a bad day, when you’re feeling generous, or both. this is the simplest thing to do but it is the easiest gesture to just spread a little love. pay for the person behind you in line. offer a refill. this is a good thing.

stay up all night just to appreciate sleep.

go on a road trip. see things you’ve never seen, even if they’re only 15 minutes away.

stop being so cynical of love. you’re going to heal, you’re going to get back on that horse. i know that you still want to make sarcastic comments anytime anyone enters a relationship but you’ve gotta refrain. you’re gonna get over it. you’re gonna listen to a lot of adele and some nights you’re gonna cry, but you’re gonna become a better woman from all this and more that anything, you’re gonna laugh about it in the end.

PICK UP THE GUITAR IN YOUR CLOSET AND ACTUALLY LEARN IT. also, think about finding a ukulele. trust me.

offer to drive everyone. make playlists for the car. don’t overlook how much bonding is going to take place just driving around your small college town.

make cookies. learn that cookies take almost no time or effort to make, but they are secret code for caring.  LEARN THIS EARLY and then make them often, make a lot of them and give them to your friends. no reason needed.

i know it seems stupid right now, self, but you’re gonna get really into fashion and you’re gonna have a heart for it and you’re gonna find a style that suits you and looks good. just trust me on this one. embrace the fact that you love leopard print and vintage 1960s looks and go with it. also, thrift stores will be your new home, so bring febreeze.

try not to be so dramatic. keyword: try.

you’re gonna watch a heck of a lot of good tv. don’t let anyone tell you that this is a waste, because certain episodes are going to bring you to tears and you’re gonna realize that that’s what you wanna do with your life. you’re gonna make a best friendship cemented with buffy the vampire slayer. you’re gonna marvel at mad men and be blown away by the heart and simplicity of pushing daisies. share these with other people and watch episodes together and all fall in love with the artform of visual media.

take pictures!!!! take a million pictures! TAKE SO MANY PICTURES -but don’t get lost in the nostalgia of them. appreciate the memories but don’t get stuck trying to relive them. the past can hurt if you try and stay in it. always be moving forward, always look for new little places and people to give your heart to and share your life with.

call your mom. you’re gonna grow so close to her. she understands that a spoonful of nutella counts as a meal. she understands that growing up is hard. she knows what to say and when to listen and when to pray.

call your dad. he’s gonna teach you how to fix a flat tire and a broken heart.

call your brother and grandparents. they’ll always have a good story to tell and a good restaurant recommendation.

don’t worry so much.

everyone’s gonna get on you about dating and at family gatherings everyone will ask if you have a boyfriend. just smile at them politely. i know you want to punch them, but please, smile.

and whenever you get sad, just switch decades and go live in the 60s and 70s for a little while. play soul music and old country and psychedelic tunes and dance in your room till it gets better. let jimi’s guitar solos speak when you can’t, let sam cooke cheer you up with that divine voice of his and let john, paul, george & ringo continue to sing you to sleep.

keep writing songs, please. keep writing them and singing them even if no one hears them. maybe let someone hear one. and then two people. and then three. and before you know it, you’ll be strumming them in a coffee shop with your best friend adding harmonies. ps, you’re gonna grow so much from this.

don’t be so negative on the internet. don’t vent. use the internet as a place of creativity and humor and connection.

smile at people you don’t know. it’ll freak them out a little, but what’s not fun about that?

go play. go be outside and run around and do cartwheels in the sunshine. build blanket forts and eat candy.  you don’t have to grow up just yet.

pray, read your bible, talk to people about jesus. seek him when it’s not going right, cry to him when it’s not fair and tell him everything you need. don’t let loneliness creep in; remember that you are loved.

you’re going to live with some wonderful ladies who make college apartments feel like one big sleepover. cherish this even when yall get on each other’s nerves. reconcile by making breakfast and going shopping and getting manicures and watching chick flicks, because it is perfectly okay to be a girl and be feminine and sometimes spend too much time talking about ryan gosling and shoes. embrace those x chromosomes.

guess what? get ready for the greatest men in the world to enter your life! you’re gonna find boys who teach you what you want and they’re gonna respect you and make you feel pretty and loved even without saying anything. you’re gonna be the luckiest, most envied lady for all the great guy friends you have in your life. appreciate this and love them back.

go to that stupid freshman year seminar that has that speaker who you’ve never heard of and look for the boy who’s messing with the zebra phone case. i know that looking back it will be embarrassing when you tell him within the first five minutes of meeting that you two will be best friends someday, but trust your instincts. and get ready for the best friend of your little life.

and you know what? even though sometimes your feelings are messy and undecided and up-in-the-air, don’t be afraid to share them.

oh, and don’t forget that no one looks good in that silly hat, but the least you can do is add a little pizazz to it.

(and don’t worry, your hair’s still big in the future.)

love,

your 21-year-old ready-to-take-on-the-world-but-not-really blessed-with-the-greatest-friends-in-the-world self

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