I. Love. Fall.

"You deserve a Seth Meyers, not a Seth Rogen."

I love Mackenzie Weeks.

I got a 95 on my Spanish midterm, and an A- on my first English argument.

I've started having very realistic dreams, wherein I'm bro-chilling with people on my floor. But occasionally other people show up. Like last night, when Alex, Bobby, & Bear took a road trip to visit me. Nice to see you, guys!

On a scale of 1-10, how terrible is it that I lost respect for a guy who didn't understand a Christmas Vacation reference?

"If there's no sun, I go batshit crazy." - Megan Fox

(except I love when there's no sun)

Days Go By

Is 4 months a long time?

In the context of my life, obviously not. But in the context in which it matters (the past 4 years aka high school), it's a decent amount of time. It's 1/12th of that time.

Up until this week, it had been at least 4 months since I'd made proper use of my brain and my heart. I essentially shut them both off when high school ended. 4 months of nothing but scanning, running, and eating. I was indifferent to almost everything in my life, since neither my heart nor my mind were factors in my decisions/ actions.

But with the start of school, at least my mind has started working again. No less than 90% of my peers dwarf me in intelligence, and I'm no good at journalism, but at least my mind is being distracted. Yay rah Frankenstein!

Tonight, Seth Meyers and I conversed about Tina Fey, Tommy Boy, Paris Hilton, eBay, and the Hold Steady. It was magical. Never have I ever experienced such quick wit. The man has truly earned his place at SNL... and his place on my collage.

Oscar blues

It's just now dawning on me that I will have very little exposure to Oscar contenders this year.

No money = no movies = no Oscar knowledge.

Sadness!

I recited every word of Lion King at our Disney party tonight... I hadn't been that happy in months.

Mediocrity!

mediocre: adjective: of moderate or low quality, value, ability, or performance; ordinary; so-so

I am mediocrity incarnate up here. 

My teammates not only find the time to run 50+ miles a week (I'm lucky if I reach 35),  but they're all majoring in bio-chemical engineering or pre-med or double majoring with both. 

According to US Weekly's college rankings, my SAT scores were on the lowest end of average for this year's incoming class. 

While not everyone is Shelbi-thin, they aren't exactly overweight either... yet again, I fall into the average category.

In case you haven't crept on my roommate yet, she's naturally gorgeous. Bear wants to marry her. I just kinda fade into the background I guess.

Despite this, I've received several of the best compliments of my life:

"You seem like someone who would have great YouTube recommendations."

"Do you watch 'It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia'? It seems like a show you'd like."

"You're like the coffee master!"

(After hearing "Me want food" and thinking it was a 30 Rock reference) "You belong in journalism."

Oh well.. I suppose I'll just have to adjust to getting lost in the shuffle!

Pleasantly Surprised

These girls... they've surprised me with their pop-culture awareness.

Things they are aware exist (to some extent) and enjoy (to some extent):

-Lonely Island

-Flight of the Concords

-Jon Lajoie

-30 Rock

-American Beauty

-Harry Potter (they like it too! just not obsessively...

-Tarantino

- RDJ movies besides Iron Man

Things we need to work on:

-I Love You Man

-The Hangover

-She & Him

-Lonely Island besides "I'm on a Boat"

-David Fincher

-funnyordie

-Picnic Face

-etc

Project: Acclamation is going surprisingly well. Even considering my poor athletic abilities.

Temporary

I remember, approximately 3 years and 4 months back, posting on Xanga that I had just seen "Grindhouse". That post ended with "Let the countdown to Inglorious Basterds begin!". Well that countdown has officially ended. And it was pretty much what I expected. It wasn't Reservoir Dogs, but it was bloody, crass, and vaguely funny. I liked it. That's about it. 

I'm in my dorm right now. My temporary dorm. With my temporary roommate. But come to think of it, this whole college experience is pretty temporary. So this dorm is just extra-temporary I suppose. But everything in my life has been temporary thus far... my friendships, my homes, my parents' marraiges, etc... Honestly, of my closest friends now, I've known none for more than 5 years. Even what I thought to be the most stable part of my life turned out to be temporary. 

So it should be easier to move on to the next stage. Right? 

Nine Lives (that I will miss)

The number "9" is abundant in popular culture right now. From the Fellini-inspired musical to Tim Burton's animated apocalyptic adventure, "9" is hip. And entirely coincidentally, "9" is the number of non-relatives that I will struggle to live with out for the next four months. 

Of the thousands of people I've met and talked with over the past 18 years, only 9 stand out. Only 9 will be missed. 

Of those 9, only two live within moderate travel distance. And I feel that the chances that I'll see either of those two are slim to none.

Of the remaining 7, two may come to visit me for NU's homecoming vs IU. But again, I feel that this is probably wishful thinking, and will not actually come to fruition. 

Of the last 5, one will still be attending CGHS. I don't think we'll have trouble keeping in touch, because she's essentially my younger sister. We need each other's perspective.

4 left. Two are attending private Indiana colleges. Two are fleeing our God-forsaken state and taking refuge in schools with nationally acclaimed basketball programs. Needless to say, they will be preoccupied. 

I love these 9. My love for each of them is unique. I dread the upcoming months because of my love for these 9 individuals. But then I remember it's only four months. I'll see them all soon enough. My importance to some of them will inevitably shrink. But I will always love them. 

Horcruxapalooza

Packing. It's got me thinking.

I've been trying to organize my room into two categories: stuff I absolutely have to take with me and stuff I could do with out. Essentially, this is what everyone has been doing.

But it got me thinking. 

If I were to suddenly realize an unwavering desire to become immortal, which of my personal belongings would I elect to serve as my Horcruxes? (I am aware that only 1 Horcrux is required to technically make one immortal, but out of respect for the Harry Potter franchise, I'm going to make like Lord Voldemort and choose 7. Hooray for virtual indestructibility!)

1. My orange journal with circles/ polka dots on the front. Almost every time I've cried  in the past 3 years, I've sought refuge in this little orange journal. I've dissected every grievance until the pain momentarily subsides. It holds almost all of my secrets. I therefore feel it has earned the right to be one of my Horcruxes.

2. Santa Claus coffee mug. I have had a mug full of Tazo Chai black tea with 1% milk and 3 Splenda every night for as long as I can remember. And I've always used the Santa Claus mug because it's the biggest, which means more tea. So this Horcrux represents 3 traits: my love for Christmas, my love for tea, and my greediness.

3. Brown-rimmed glasses. While I'm wearing a pair of black glasses at the moment, my brown spectacles are the ones that pulled through when I needed them most. They helped me see before I had contacts, which essentially means they helped me understand my pre-pubescent years. 

4. 2008 Prom Corsage. This bracelet of flowers is currently pinned to the bulletin board in my room. It is completely dry, completely withered, and completely beautiful. If memory serves, this corsage marks the first time I've received flowers from someone. So I saved it. Even though I thought the idea of a corsage was silly, I kept it. Horcrux #4= pack rat tendencies/ inability to let go. 

5. She & Him's "Volume One". This is not my favorite CD. That honor is bestowed upon "Stunt". However, this album ranks in my top 5. And it also represents how far I will take an obsession (aka driving up to Chicago with my mother in order to stand approximately 25 feet away from Miss Deschanel). 

6. Any jar of peanut butter. While peanut butter is one of my two favorite foods, I have a love/hate relationship with it. It is delicious; I can eat it plain or as a dip for practically any other food in the cupboard. But late night peanut butter is the culprit for my weight gain. And weight has always been a source of great frustration and sadness for me. So I'm torn between giving into my greatest food indulgence or abstaining in order to have that unattainable "perfect body". I usually give in. Therefore, this Horcrux is the embodiment of my lack of self control. 

7. My previous cell phone- a violet-pink Motorola RAZR. Good luck finding this Horcrux. I don't even know where it is, as it was donated after I switched to my current Voyager. But many a conversation was had on this phone. I, who am not even a huge fan of phone-conversations, had hundreds upon hundreds of conversations with people I love using this phone, because this phone was a pre-texting device. While I did have about 3 months of texting on it towards the end of its life, this phone represents my desire for a more tangible way of communicating. I love texting, but its very hard to communicate joy, pain, and depression through a text. These RAZR conversations were saturated with emotion, and I miss them. 

Congratulations to all 3 of you who potentially read this. You are now equipped with the proper information to destroy me on my quest to immortality. 

I regret regretting

A close friend recently told me her philosophy on life: "No regrets."

I liked it. So I tried adopting it.

Epic fail.

Maybe I failed only because I regret crazy shit I've done in the past. Maybe if I try living by "no regrets" in regards to what I do now, I might find success. But the more I think about it, the more I regret. The more I wish I could change.

There are general regrets. Like spending almost a dollar a day all summer on polar pops. Or like not seeing my mother nearly as often as I should have.

And then there are specific regrets. Like eating that apple cobbler at Ruth Chris after I'd already stuffed my  body to the bursting point. Or like accidentally sending a very personal text to the person it was about, not to the person for whom it was intended. Or like leaving Starbucks to go up to Fishers so I wouldn't miss Saturday Night Live.

I guess in theory, "No regrets" should set my mind at rest, because there's obviously nothing I can do now to change the things I've done. But I always think about what I could have done. How I could have handled the situation better. I suppose I can learn from my mistakes. Do better next time. But that still doesn't fix it. 

I just remembered a line from a Rent song: "Forget regret or life is yours to miss." 

And I also just remembered a quote from Lion King: "You gotta put your behind in your past.. er.. you gotta put your past behind you."

Oops. 

(Un)Personal Ad

Perfectly adequate 18 year old college freshman looking for Major to appease her father.

Preferably not journalism, film-studies, or any sort of social science.

Preferably something in the science department.

Preferably pre-med. 

Really, Dad?

Plate of Mind Grapes

I went dorm-shopping today.

My favorite purchase was a seaweed green/ toothpaste blue ceramic plate that I found in the clearance section of Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I feel as this may be an insult to the amount of money my parents spent. But I love it. I think because it didn't come in a set. It's just one, lonely plate. There were no others like it. It was just sitting there like Corduroy the teddy bear, waiting for some little girl to take it home. 

Is it odd that my most normal relationship is with a girl who has seen me naked (just while changing of course. but nonetheless...)? And by relationship, I mean a bond that will be deeply missed this fall. I have scores of normal friendships. But they don't mean very much, because to me, a friendship is merely a bond that unites two people with common interests. Relationships are complex and multi-faceted. And as of right now, I truly feel that none of my relationships are as simple as they should be. 

But at least there are people I care about, even if things are messy. 

And at least there's the possibility that they care about me back.

But still.

Messy!

Rare is it that a day passes by with out a lecture from my dear (step)mother. Some of her arguments are convincing: 

"You need to get more sleep because it will rev your metabolism and help you lose weight!"

Others, not so much: 

"69 is not funny. You should be embarrassed that you are amused by something so immature. You are classier than that. I did not raise a daughter to behave this way."

Typically, we can reach a compromise. A happy medium, if you will. But one issue on which my (step)mother and I will never find common ground is the orderliness of my bedroom.

"You are an adult now. If you can't even keep your room organized, how on earth do you plan to keep your life in order?"

Seriously? THIS causes the most tension between us? My organizational abilities?? 

Maybe I see my room as the one place in my life where I can let loose? My life is incredibly structured. Wake up at 6:45. Run. Come home. Take shower. Leave by 8:30. Pick up some form of caffeine. Scan. Eat lunch at 1. Leave work by 4. etc...

So my room is in a slight disarray. This is how I like it.  It's not pristine. It has personality. I can find the Entertainment Weekly from 2 weeks ago with the Harry Potter kids on the cover- it's hidden beneath my wooden dresser. 

I'm a relatively easy child. I don't miss curfew. I do the laundry, dishes, etc with out being asked. I make my bed every morning. My definition of partying is hanging out with my closest friends, drinking diet Mountain Dew and watching a movie or something. 

So maybe this is my form of rebelling. Some rebel by drinking. Some shoplift. Others simply indulge in profanity (I am occasionally guilty of this vice). So in light of the girl I could have become if I'd "let loose" in a different manner, it seems as though my (step)mom should thank her lucky stars that my main flaw as a daughter is forgetting to throw my scrubs into the hamper.

But then again, who knows? Perhaps the day I lose control over the state of my room will be the day I quit trying to control every other aspect of my life. 

I am an organized mess.

p.s. welcome to my blog.