Tag Archives: college life

Good Day Sunshine!

It’s not that I lack motivation or have given up on studies completely, but how can I simply be forced to sit inside a classroom and listen to a professor lecture on when the SUN is outside, yelling at me to come play?!

I’ve never been particularly outdoorsy. My family went camping a lot growing up (probably why smores and tents and the smell of campfires make me so happy) and I absolutely love being by the water but I’m not ready to ditch my comfortable apartment and live in the wilderness yet, foraging for nuts and berries. I am, however, not opposed to having my after-yoga-morning-coffee outside on our hammock and soaking up the sunshine like it is going out of style. I mean, really, what is better than this?

I’ll be honest with you, internet- I don’t know what my summer plans are yet. I am waiting to hear back from internships in different locations, nervous about how plans might fall together and crossing my fingers for someone to hire me. I’ve been praying about it, filling out so many applications, attaching resumes and making phone calls but in the end I’m still waiting to find out where I end up. But I rest assured that no matter where I am, I will be basking in the outdoors as much as I can, because after being in a classroom roughly 3/4s of my little life, I’m kinda ready to get out.

Call it senioritis.

Call it summer fever.

Whatever you call it, please make sure that it gets here soon and that it brings warm playful days. I’ll have my SPF and sunnies ready as always.

And of course, here you go, internet- have a little cartoon and song to brighten your morning! It is sung by my favorites, after all:

Home Alone? No Thank You

I basically lived alone my first two years of college.

Okay, wah wah, I can cry about it all I want, but it wasn’t too terrible. Of course, it wasn’t exactly by choice- it just happened that way. Both of my roommates my freshman and sophomore year just seemingly spent most of their days and nights at sisters’ apartments, boyfriends’ duplexes or just back home. On weekends, I always had the place to myself. This, of course, left only me and my beloved ukulele bunking together for literally months. They were both sweet girls…in the total of 36 hours we probably spent in the same room the entire two years I lived on campus, but if we’re being honest, I was on my own in my room.

Now, of course, this didn’t mean that I was by my lonesome most hours. I was very blessed to find friends and find them quickly, and they have been with me, by my side physically and emotionally for the past three years in so many ways. We went (and still go) everywhere together- literally. Laundry was done in a group, every class break was spent catching up even if we had five minutes, meals were never eaten alone and I’m honestly surprised that we didn’t all just move into a tent together on the campus lawn somewhere. Making tight-knit friendships has been the best part of moving to San Marcos, by far, and this year has only been even better.

This year I happen to live in the cutest little apartment with the cutest girls in the world. Think I’m kidding? You clearly haven’t met C & S.

See, told ya! But really, I can honestly say that living with two of my best friends by my side, sometimes even when I’m not expecting them to be, is marvelous. At any given time, there’s three separate iTunes libraries playing loudly, dishes stacked a mile high and cardigans of every color are sprawled across every piece of furniture, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love mornings when we all sit in S’s room on her bed and share stories and cups of coffee and I love evenings when we come home at different times but still check up on each other.

You see, I’m spoiled now. While I used to be adjusted to being alone in my surroundings, I now crave having my roommates near. I can still be on my own, but I’d much rather not. And so, hearing one of their keys twisting the lock to our front door at this very moment as I type this blog post? It’s like music to my ears.

Am I needy? Could be. But hey, internet, you would be too if you had roomies that woke you up to the smell of bacon and hugs. Promise.

Because A Weekend Photo Post Is Always Needed

This weekend meant lots of BBQ

lots of front-porch-sittin’

lots of tree-climbin’

lots of midnight dance parties in the barn

lots of cowboy boots

& lots of friendship.

Schoolwork might get me down every week day. I might have too much to do or get stressed about deadlines and details, but Friday, Saturday and Sunday and hours spent with these people always seem to make up for every single thing.

Is it possible to fall in love with the weekend?

(Because this lion most certainly is.)

Also, I find this song highly appropriate for this post. Had to!

Imma (Busy) Bee

Sometimes when I sit down to write, I feel like I have to come up with excuses as to why it hasn’t been sooner that I’ve updated this blog. I try to write something every day, whether it is public or not, but lately, my reasons for no words have been pretty weak.

“I’m just not inspired right now.”

(aka: “I’m lazy.”)

“There’s nothing to write about!”

(aka: “I’m really ridiculously lazy, and probably lying.)

The Rachel Zoe Project is on!”

(Okay, so this one might be true. I’m sadly addicted. This is what Target gets for putting the seasons on sale. I. DIE. for the Zoe drama and adore me some Brad Goreski!)

“I’m BUSY!”

(Well, actually, this one might have some merit. Maybe? Riiight?)

Most weeks, all of these are absolutely ridiculous. I’m always inspired by even the littlest things, always find something to write about, can save Rachel Zoe for a rainy day, and my schedule is usually pretty balanced with time to spare.

This week, however, I’ve been actually BUSY!

Not that this is a bad thing or that I’m trying to make up for anything, but I legitimately thought that after Spring Break, my life would be cake, right? (Preferably red velvet, actually.) But, of course, there’s plenty more projects, papers, scripts, interviews, quizzes and tests to be studied and aced, along with internship applications, job fairs, resume edits and somewhere along the line, hopefully a snocone or two now that the hot Texas weather is upon us again!

Am I complaining? Not a chance!

As much as I want to surrender my afternoons to naps and could major in procrastinating if I tried, everything I’m involved in is worth it, whether it’s difficult and time-consuming or not. Plus, my schedule always seems to find time for a little friendship, and for that I am so grateful. Even if it’s five minutes discussing the Golden Girls personality traits, an extra cup of coffee in the morning with my roommates before I go to class, ten minutes laying in our porch hammock and talking on the phone with my dynamically wonderful parents, all of it is needed!

So when I’m busy, I’m still typing up sentences for all of you who happen to read my little corner of the internet. And busy or not, this lion needs her pack. Finally, I mean, when I’m able to fit in meeting Friday Night Lights celebrities and scoring a slam-dunk with a killer Chicken Parmesan recipe, I really have no excuse not to have a huge grin on my face…even if my to-do list is a mile long.

Literally.

Eat Your Heart Out, June Cleaver

(Sometimes little afternoons just write themselves into brightly-colored pleasing blog posts. This is one of those afternoons, and of course, it’s a SHAMELESS PHOTO POST!)

Honestly, in life, I think all it really takes is a little commitment to character and a smidge of red lipstick to make everything grand. So, when my lovely girlfriends and I decided to devote an afternoon to making pies, we couldn’t leave any details to make the event perfect out.

1950s Housewife attire? Check.

Vinyl records and sweet tea in fancy glasses? Check.

Apple cinnamon, key lime, cherry and pecan? Check.

Baking in heels? A nearly-almost check.

One delicious day? Most definite check.

(this is Taylor, diva and apple-slicer extraordinaire!)

(please note the heart. AW!)

(this is Kate, aka the greatest pie-making-teacher evs! she worked in a bakery, so these pies are legendary already.)

Serious question, internet–is there anything greater and more loving on this earth than pie? I could ramble on about how much a good crust is a gift from God or how on a perfect pie, each bite is like giving your mouth a warm just-what-I-needed-hug, but I’ll suffice it to say that if you don’t love pie, you’ve been doing it wrong.

Mourn the loss of a great tv show by watching Pushing Daisies and crave a slice of heaven.

Call up your grandmother and ask for a great recipe.

Or you know, if you play your cards right, time travel on back to 1955 and these fabulous housewives will make you one! Just, please…don’t call us desperate.

Sometimes You Gotta Break Things

I don’t know about your Valentine’s Day, internet, but mine consisted of watching the greatest love story of all time and throwing things.

It’s not that I’m against love, but watching gory revengeful movies and getting out all your feelings on one of the dumbest holidays ever is healthy. I’m an expert who needs no entanglements or silly boyfriends or head-over-heels-crushes to stay happy. Or you know, I might just be a cynic of love who is scared to admit that she still is a hopeless romantic who loves musicals under that tough skin and constant making-fun-of-relationships-facade.

Too much?

Anyway, overshared insecurities aside, one thing that’s truly true- I’m a visual learner.

As much as words can comfort me and I can bask in them, roll them around on my tongue and rewind television shows just to hear the rhythm in the way certain sentences sound, if I really want to drive a point home, I have to see it with my baby blues. I want to open my eyes wide and get to know the colors and shapes and textures and how the light hits something just so.

Luckily, I got to learn this particular way last night, when my friends and I had ourselves a little “Break” party. This tradition is one that I heard from a friend back when I lived at home, and implemented as much as I could throughout high school and you know what? It still works wonders.

It’s simple, really. We drove to Goodwill and collected a handful of cheap plates (as seen in above graphic); all of different colors but all those that looked extra china-y. We then brought the plates back and attacked them with sharpies, writing out everything that we wanted to see break into a million little pieces. Fears, bad dreams, regrets, doubts, experiences that hurt, and since it was Valentine’s Day, I’d reckon to say that most our plates had failed relationships, lost loves and the names of soul-crushing boys and heart-stealing girls that we wish we’d never run into in the first place written all over them. We kept our plates to ourselves, mulling over them until we were all ready. We trekked out to the railroad tracks behind our apartment, and huddled together, we said goodbye to our precious regret-stained dishes. One by one, we said goodbye to pain and failures and secrets and feelings that left us worse off. Standing across from each other, we addressed our plates individually, and, as if in slow motion from our very own Tarantino movie scene, then smashed them into the tracks, watching it all break away and cheering with each broken dish at the realization that, surely, it was all just words on a plate anyway.

Pretty sure I had the best Valentine’s Day of my life last night.

Call it dramatic, call it childish, but I can honestly say that I left a few things on that railroad track that I won’t be needing anymore. Maybe plates need to break so that we don’t have to.

Snow Is A Big Deal

It’s been a little while, and though it may seem like a cop-out, I’m going to tell you why I haven’t written in a while. Brace yourself, internet. You ready?

I didn’t update recently because…

IT. SNOWED.

IT SNOWED!!! IN CENTRAL TEXAS!!

It snowed (in case you didn’t hear) and we lost internet and a small piece of our minds, probably, but it was wonderful!

Tangent: in relationships of every kind, I’m always afraid I’m going to come on too strong. I’m afraid I’m going to send too many picture messages and make too many big deals out of everything. I’m nervous that I’m going to scare off anyone new in my life with my excitement levels and my wanting-togetherness-to-happen-instantly-and-never-end. But that’s why I like when things actually ARE a big deal! Snow is a big deal! Sure, people get it all the time elsewhere but we’re in Texas. But when snow happens here, classes are cancelled, no one knows how to drive and so everyone gets trapped inside, which in my case means one big sleepover with my best friends in a blanket fort.

And here’s the thing– every last ounce of excitement can be used up on this snowday because it rarely happens. It’s worth the jumping up and down and yelling and being overly excited! So, the solution to feeling like I come on too strong is just to make every single day a once-in-a-lifetime (or at least once-in-a-semester) ordeal. As of now, I’m working on it.

And speaking of once-in-a-lifetime,

my lovely and talented roommate, bandmate and best friend Christie (the one in the middle of that little circle-of-lovin’) turned 21 years young yesterday! She is musically grand, infectiously wonderful and delightful in every sense of the word- not to mention a fantastic writer, so stop by her blog and tumblr and wish her the happiest of drinking-legality and belated birthdays!

Eat Play Love

Weekends with wonderful people always inspire me to write.


Yesterday I came home from quite possibly one of the greatest days (as proclaimed by a reliable new best-friendski source that I would link but alas, his tweets are blocked) feeling unusually tired. Normally I have the worst trouble falling asleep and have to resort to sleeping masks or staring up at the ceiling waiting or watching something I know by heart but last night, as soon as my mane hit the pillow, I was out like a lightbulb. Why? Cause all my energy had been spent during PLAYTIME!

I think the world needs more playdates. We could all use a little downtime to run out all our stresses, not marathon-finish-line style, but friendship-spent-being-active style. I forget to play. I forget that I need that interaction, that rediscovered recess, that feeling of, “Hey! Let’s go! Let’s share! Let’s do an activity together that doesn’t take two hours of discussion beforehand!”

Now, don’t get me wrong- I am the farthest thing from althletic, unless yoga counts. I don’t have a competitive bone in my body (until I put on dance shoes, but that’s another post altogether) but if we’re playing, I can jump around and cheer people on who actually care about winning like there’s no tomorrow. I’m hardly sporty but if someone wants to spend a sunny day frolicking sport-like, I can be convinced quite easily to tag along.

So, yesterday, I didn’t sweat like a bodybuilding champ, lift anything particularly heavy or do much besides 1. picnic and 2. dodge the throws of a Frisbee as hurtled through the air by my rockstar friends, but I decided we should all keep this in mind:

Don’t Forget To Play!

(or DFTP)

DFTP, Internet!

Stop reading this on your computer, get outside and DFTP!

Tears

I used to cry often Freshman year. Sometimes for legitimate reasons, but mostly because I let little situations get to me. I would get frustrated with the smallest things, I would feel bouts of loneliness or insecurity and I was crippled by little frequent panic attacks. Mostly when all of these hit, I would just have to throw my hands up in the air and sniffle for a little while because it was all I knew to do.

I don’t write this out to evoke a feeling of sorry or of diversity; in fact, most people I have talked to say that college was a distinctly hard transition for them as well. I’m not ‘special’ for taking a while to adjust. (And yes, I’ll admit that years of theatre and choir probably made me a little more dramatic than most anyway, so tearing up is already well established in my normal repertoire.)

Point being to all of this, at this very moment it’s 3 AM and I’m at the end of my first week of classes back at college for the spring semester and I have to write all this before I forget it or fall asleep, so here goes nothing.

I have grown so immensely in my three years here at Texas State so far, mainly from the fantastic people that surround me and the situations I have been placed into, but I have cried every single night since being back this week. Here’s the thing, though- these particular tears have been from laughing so hard that I have to clutch my side and nearly get a tissue.

I don’t often write when I’m feeling heightened emotions because I’m afraid it will sound terribly depressing or equally-terribly cliche, but I can’t help it because I’m just so soul-jumping-out-of-my-body-happy-joyful to be where I am right now, at this very moment! The friends-become-family I am surrounded by that encourage me and love me because He first loved us, the classes I’m taking that (finally!) interest me, the conversations that I never want to end- it’s all what motivates me to wake up in the morning with jumpy energy and also what keeps me from sleeping, awake at night because I’m like a little kid that wants to keep playing and doesn’t want to miss a single thing. And of course, it’s what makes me cry. But, you know, since I’m already playing the sentimental-cliche card, what the heck, I’m now a firm believer that crying isn’t so bad after all.

Oh and one more thing,

ALL I DO IS DOCTOR WHO.

CAN’T STOP. WON’T STOP.

Transition?

Finals are over, which means a huge sigh of relief,

And then a gasp of panic because I’M A SENIOR NOW.

Deep breath in. People graduate all the time. There are dozens of inspirational photos picturing smiling graduates with diplomas-in-hand, waving a fist in the air out of achievement. That’ll be me in two short semesters, including the fist. Then, I’ll tighten my metaphorical suspenders and take on the world with my nonstop chatter, full resume, and perkiness, like one of those female leads in getting-the-job movies. You know, like Rachel McAdams in Morning Glory.

Okay, maybe minus the bangs.

But still, this can happen, yes?

People get jobs.

And people grow up.

It’s a simple and easy transition, right?

………

CUE UNSURE-ABOUT-SELF-GROWING-UP-ANTHEM