A year ago, I had one goal: to buy myself a car. I didn't want anything new, nothing fancy. I wanted a vehicle, on wheels, that wasn't my mom's van. I wanted a car that didn't demand a planned schedule as to when I could use it, and when my sisters would get it. I wanted a car that didn't come with an argument over whose turn it was to put gas in it every time someone wanted to use it. I want something that I could call my own, and use to my liking.
Isn't it amazing that we can sometimes trace a single decision, a monumental choice in our life back to one simple idea. Me wanting my own car started a whirlwind of events that never would've happened if the gas light wasn't the biggest argument between my twin sister and I.
I just wanted to say that fate is funny. And we get a lot done when we look at the smallest idea as being the plant for so much more than that.
Until later,
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Formal Assessment
I've been trying to think of a proper analogy for being single in college. I could go with Barney Stinson's analogy of what being single is:
"Well it's not, it's not a candy store. It's post apocalyptic wasteland".
Which would actually be pretty accurate. College is like a picked-apart and torn land, in which only the strong survive, and the weak are picked off early in the night and are left heartbroken, beaten, or torn limb from limb.
But even that doesn't seem very fair. We're not all animals. Key word there: ALL.
But last night I think i figured it out. Being single in college is like a school dance. It makes sense, I swear.
See in a high school dance, you spend the first hour or so getting used to the DJ, meeting people, looking for your friends in the darkness and loud music. You're convinced that you're alone, that your so-called-friends are standing in huddle somewhere, laughing at your attempts to bump and grind through the crowd. Then you find them, scattered, and one by one you make the sacred circle, moving around just amongst your friends, wondering where the girls are, and whether you'll even dance with anyone of the opposite sex. You don't make the first move, you can't. You wait until the girls find you, and then you mingle. This is by far the worst part. You do this weird mix and switch move, in which you sit at this awkward stance between knowing that a particular girl wants to dance with you (was that a signal she just gave me?) and doubting everything you know about social cues. It's actually sort of hilarious. Like putting a bunch of awkward turtles in one tank and asking them to try and co-exist. And if for some reason some girl does want to dance, it usually starts with some strange eye contact, then a position switch, then a fumbling with a first hand on the hip, hoping to god she doesn't go running. And for some reason she doesn't run, you relax, and start to enjoy yourself.
But like a mating ritual; we spend a majority of the time we could've been getting down with our bad selves, and having a good time, trying to impress, trying to make connections. And we waste the time we've got. It's not going to last forever. The dance is almost over. Dance while you've got the chance.
College? I think so.
Until later,
"Well it's not, it's not a candy store. It's post apocalyptic wasteland".
Which would actually be pretty accurate. College is like a picked-apart and torn land, in which only the strong survive, and the weak are picked off early in the night and are left heartbroken, beaten, or torn limb from limb.
But even that doesn't seem very fair. We're not all animals. Key word there: ALL.
But last night I think i figured it out. Being single in college is like a school dance. It makes sense, I swear.
See in a high school dance, you spend the first hour or so getting used to the DJ, meeting people, looking for your friends in the darkness and loud music. You're convinced that you're alone, that your so-called-friends are standing in huddle somewhere, laughing at your attempts to bump and grind through the crowd. Then you find them, scattered, and one by one you make the sacred circle, moving around just amongst your friends, wondering where the girls are, and whether you'll even dance with anyone of the opposite sex. You don't make the first move, you can't. You wait until the girls find you, and then you mingle. This is by far the worst part. You do this weird mix and switch move, in which you sit at this awkward stance between knowing that a particular girl wants to dance with you (was that a signal she just gave me?) and doubting everything you know about social cues. It's actually sort of hilarious. Like putting a bunch of awkward turtles in one tank and asking them to try and co-exist. And if for some reason some girl does want to dance, it usually starts with some strange eye contact, then a position switch, then a fumbling with a first hand on the hip, hoping to god she doesn't go running. And for some reason she doesn't run, you relax, and start to enjoy yourself.
But like a mating ritual; we spend a majority of the time we could've been getting down with our bad selves, and having a good time, trying to impress, trying to make connections. And we waste the time we've got. It's not going to last forever. The dance is almost over. Dance while you've got the chance.
College? I think so.
Until later,
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
20 years or The Leap
Today, I turn 20. It's not a big number when you look at it in terms of the big picture of life, but it certainly marks the end and beginning of a certain time of your life.
It's the end of innocence of teenage years. Sure, there will always be times to blame the world for your problems, and bitch to your parents, and say that you've been hurt soooo many times. But 20 marks a time when these actions are no longer tolerated. People don't want to hear you complain. Figure out what the problem is, and solve it. Plain. Simple.
I completed my list. The list entitled: 20 Things to do before Turning 20. And although it came down to the wire and although I had my doubts, I couldn't have finished it without the help of a few people who mean the world to me.
Put on A.C. Newman- "Prophets" before reading this next part. Taking a cue from Ted Mosby and How I Met Your Mother:
This was the year I learned what the value of working is. It was the year I realized what it was I wanted to do with my life. It was the year I was rejected/stood up 10 separate times. It was the year I learned my tolerance for alcohol. It was the year I had my heart broken by the same girl, on 3 separate occasions. It was the year I moved in with some of the greatest friends I have ever had. And it was the year I got my ass kicked by a door. And i'll be damned if it wasn't the best year of my life.
until later,
It's the end of innocence of teenage years. Sure, there will always be times to blame the world for your problems, and bitch to your parents, and say that you've been hurt soooo many times. But 20 marks a time when these actions are no longer tolerated. People don't want to hear you complain. Figure out what the problem is, and solve it. Plain. Simple.
I completed my list. The list entitled: 20 Things to do before Turning 20. And although it came down to the wire and although I had my doubts, I couldn't have finished it without the help of a few people who mean the world to me.
Put on A.C. Newman- "Prophets" before reading this next part. Taking a cue from Ted Mosby and How I Met Your Mother:
This was the year I learned what the value of working is. It was the year I realized what it was I wanted to do with my life. It was the year I was rejected/stood up 10 separate times. It was the year I learned my tolerance for alcohol. It was the year I had my heart broken by the same girl, on 3 separate occasions. It was the year I moved in with some of the greatest friends I have ever had. And it was the year I got my ass kicked by a door. And i'll be damned if it wasn't the best year of my life.
until later,
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