I Have Arrived


Everyone in this city is the friendliest person I’ve ever met. They’re all so happy, and each person is nicer than the next, and I don’t understand. I’m almost always in a good mood, at least around strangers, but I’d thought I was in the minority on that front. But nooooo, everyone here is so stoked on life and has been drinking so much Yerba Mate that they’re basically high on life (and quite a few of them might be actually high, as well).

And they’re so attractive here! The men have excellently groomed beards and the women are like little flower children and I swear to god I’m in heaven. I haven’t worn makeup in days, I feel like I could “forget” to shave my armpits for the rest of my life and someone would be super into it and date me solely for that reason, and my awkwardly growing out short haircut probably looks like a purposeful style choice.

It’s amazing. My roommate and I are constantly trying to figure out whether people want to be our friends or are just ridiculously  nice…I’d like to err on the side of friendship, because why not? I started training for my new job yesterday, and all of my coworkers are fabulous and I’m going to marry all of them. That’s probably relatively acceptable here, too, right?

I keep walking outside and breathing in so deeply that I practically pass out. I’m sitting in front of the open window looking outside at all the trees and listening to the traffic (it’s rather loud, which is new, but I’m getting used to hearing sirens once every few hours) and….it’s like the sun smells good.

I love it here, you guys. I’m so happy. I feel no stress. I feel like myself. I’m so, so happy.

xo

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Little Squeaks


Last night, I was really worried there was a mouse in my apartment. A real one, with little ears and whiskers and possibly rabies, and it made me very nervous. Now, remember, I pride myself on not being creeped out by bugs or snakes or small rodents (except squirrels, because they’re always up to no good). But when there’s a possibility that one is hiding under your bed hoping for a nighttime snack, it’s a whole new situation.

I heard a few squeaking noises, which I initially thought were coming from my toilet (and let’s be honest, that’s entirely possible…my plumbing isn’t exactly up to par) and then I heard something fall down (another moment of honesty: things fall down a lot in my apartment because I apparently don’t know how to hang stuff properly). I never figured out what fell, exactly, and I was incredibly sleep deprived from an insane two weeks of manic test-taking, so it’s very possible that I’d been hallucinating or something. 

I was still pretty paranoid, and I have to admit I did sit on my bed in terror for a few minutes (hours), and I looked under my bed half-expecting to have one of my eyeballs gnawed off. After walking around my apartment (crouching, really) kicking everything to make sure my mousey friend wasn’t hiding in or under it, I came to the conclusion that there’s a 99.9% chance that I’m losing my marbles and there is not a mouse in my house (har har). 

So I guess if Little Squeaks (that’s his name, obviously, especially because I’m hoping he’s really small) does live here now, he and I will just have to coexist for the rest of the semester. I do have plenty of cheese.

Frisbee Waffles and Other Things I Can Make


Act 1:

I’ve learned a lot about myself in the last week. I know I’m good at doing dishes (and I’m almost constantly doing them, to be honest…the minute they’re clean, I eat again and have to clean them again), dusting (I’ve only dusted under pressure from my mom, never voluntarily, so this is new for everyone involved), and being generally tidy (who knew?). So I’m accidentally turning into an adult who actually functions properly in real life.

I’ve also learned that I make terrible waffles that probably could double as really sturdy frisbees, I’m stingy about heat (I never turn my heater on unless I’m actually shivering), and when I get bored I paint my nails (badly).

But. I can make an excellent salad dressing (balsamic vinegar, olive oil, a touch of honey, squeeze of lime, squirt of sriracha, salt, pepper. You’re welcome), and I’m kind of the best stir-fryer east of…um…probably east of like one block over…I don’t know, really, actually my stir fries aren’t that amazing. But they’re good. They’re not bad. They’re somewhere between mediocre and excellent.

Intermission:

My upstairs neighbors have a dog and it’s howling. I’m pretty sure it’s a Chihuahua or something though, because the howl is rather high pitched.

Act 2:

As you’ve probably gathered, I no longer live in my sorority house. Actually, I’m no longer a member of the sorority at all. I dropped between semesters, and it feels good. I don’t think it was right for me to be in a sorority anymore, not that there was actually anything inherently bad about Greek life or sororities in general or my sorority specifically. I loved my time there, and it really did help me see what I want in life. Unfortunately, in order to go for those goals, I couldn’t dedicate my time to the house. It was tough, but the decision was made after a lot of thought, and there were definitely a few tears shed (of sadness and stress, mostly).

So to those of you who are…were…my sorority sisters and are reading this and weren’t informed by me in person…I’m sorry you’re reading it on my blog. Technology makes everything different, huh? It would’ve been weird to make a huge announcement or something, since to me this changes very little about our relationships as friends. I promise I still love you. And we can still hang out! And cook together. Just please don’t ask for waffles.

xo