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.


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.



The Rebirth

It’s been two years, either today or yesterday, since life meant very little to me. Two years since I broke and my mother had to take a plane at 6 a.m. to be with me, to keep me safe and protected. Two years since I started rebuilding.

I never expected any of that to happen, and I would honestly prefer that I hadn’t felt that much pain and suffering and absolute nothingness, because it’s the absolute worst, so don’t start thinking it was a positive experience at the time. But I also know I would not be who I am today without those horrible experiences.

“Everything happens for a reason” is an obnoxiously common saying, and usually I think it’s a bit of a cop out, a way to distance ourselves from pain and confusion. But in a different way, perhaps a more subtle one, I believe it. Life is one long chain of events, each tiny action creating reactions and waves. It’s not just that I wouldn’t attend this particular university on this career path with these friends; it’s that I, as I exist in this moment, would not exist. I wouldn’t understand my inner self in the same way (in fact, that inner self would be very different indeed) and I would not have the same outlook on life that I do right now.

That other person, that child who existed pre-December 2011, would have been lovely too, and I know that wherever she exists — perhaps in an alternate universe — she is absolutely striking. But she is not who I was meant to become.

I’m so happy with who I am and the path I have chosen. Something inside me — some slumbering beast of peace — awoke two years ago and has been struggling to the forefront of my consciousness ever since. I surprise myself lately, in the most exciting and breathtaking way, by how at peace I feel. Every discovery I have made — in Hinduism, in my daily life, in understanding myself — existed in that beast and absolutely exploded into being these past few months.

I am so perfectly flawed and so determined to work through the knots I hold inside, and I honestly gasp sometimes when I realize…I am fulfilling this destiny of sorts. I am becoming me. I never realized I didn’t know who I was until I met myself — I wasn’t lost until I was found.

I will question “why me” in the future, I’m sure, when something terrible happens and I feel broken again. But never again will I look to the past and see tragedy; it was only opportunity of the most brutal nature that allowed me to feel so utterly free.

This earth is so much, so gorgeous, so overwhelming. Sometimes I drink it in and realize I can’t stop and I drown a little, blinking into the sun and choking on the cold. I remember a time when even the heaviest downpours felt like nothing, just another burden to bear. Now, I welcome the sleet as another excuse to feel every nerve in my body vibrate.

“Namaste:” the light in me greets the light in you. Now I have found my inner light.


I feel particularly wonderful today. You know when you feel like there’s light inside you and you’re laying in a field of soft grass and…everything is sunlight? I have that. I have renewed hope in the world, and it feels like the universe is balanced, and I could do math homework for 10 hours and be okay with it.

I have so much to do next week. So many tests and papers and outreaches for my job, and it doesn’t matter. I’m. Not. Stressed. It’s not like “I’m avoiding doing the work I have to do,” its like “I don’t need to be stressed — I can do this.” How did this happen?

It’s that mantra I wrote about a few months ago: gobinda hari. Appreciate your successes, and understand that you have the strength to do what it takes to continue succeeding. How did I not always do this? I’ve accomplished a lot, bounced back from a lot, and truly felt what it is to be alive. I should’ve always appreciated this.

But “should’ve” isn’t necessary anymore. I had a beautiful talk with a friend yesterday and he said he doesn’t regret anything, any of his past “mistakes” because all of that forms who he is  today. It’s not a particularly novel thought, but it meant a lot to me. I’ve done dumb stuff, stuff that’s hurt myself and the people around me, but every moment is a new beginning, and we can always turn our lives around. Besides, it’s hard not to appreciate life when at one point you didn’t want to live. I don’t wish that anything in my life had gone differently. Sure, I wish I hadn’t been a jerk to that guy I dated in high school, or I wish I hadn’t yelled at my dad a few times, but we learn from everything we do. And every crappy thing will bring good someday, if we work for it.

What struck me most was this, though: My friend said, and I’m paraphrasing here, that we need to understand each others’ suffering because then we can truly understand and connect with each other. And that got me thinking: why do we hide our suffering from others? Shouldn’t we be more open with one another and show each other how we truly feel? Instead, we hide our true selves from the world because we’re embarrassed that we suffer.

News flash, y’all. We all suffer. Suffering sucks, duh, but if we all show it, the playing field is level. Sometimes I want to scream out my window, frustrated, and tell everyone to stop faking it! The world isn’t as beautiful and bright if you haven’t seen darkness. You can’t feel bliss without hurting first. I truly believe that the farther down life pulls you, the higher you’ll eventually climb.

So today I feel light, feel sun streaming out my every pore, because I feel like life is going to be amazing. Every day is a gift, and I’m going to treat it as such. Whenever darkness falls, I’ll know that (gobinda hari) I can pull myself toward the light again. I’ve found purpose, and I feel love, and there’s no way I’m letting this lightness go.

Is Everyone Gay?

I’ve been a wee bit absent lately because…well, there are lots of reasons:

1. Sorority recruitment is intense. We prepared for 6 days, then recruited for 5. My sorority had about 65 members two weeks ago…now we have 115. NEW MEMBERS GALORE!

2. I now have a job. Ish. I work for the alcohol and drug counseling center doing outreaches for incoming students. I teach them about alcohol and sex, y’all, and it’s awesome. I calculated it, and between training and outreaches, I spent at least 30 hours in the last 2 weeks doing that. So recruitment and psychology job all at once = feeling like you’re gonna pass out at any moment.

3. School just started. People call the first week of school “syllabus week” but whoever made that up is a huge liar. I had a paper due today and about 50 pages of reading for today and tomorrow and all I want to do is sleep. I might be a bit terrified that all my classes are boring, though time will tell, and I’m 99% sure that one of my professors is a huge asshole.

And now, it may just be sleep deprivation talking, but every guy I see in class is gay. Scratch that…I assume every guy I see in class is gay. There’s a guy who looks like Ryan Gosling in one of my classes but I didn’t even look twice because “he’s probably gay, Cappy.” Another guy in another class…totally attractive, also apparently gay in my mind.

What is this nonsense, brain? Am I preemptively protecting myself from romantic destruction? My gaydar has always been terrible, so I don’t know why now, of all times, I’ve decided to trust it.

I think someone needs to send a mental health specialist down here ASAP and start up some electroshock therapy so I start making sense again. Anyone willing to help me out with that?

I Am A Child, Neil Young

I’ve finally learned what it is to be a child.

Being a child is crying because you want something you can’t have, even when you don’t even want it anymore. It’s lip quivers for no reason. It’s doing things you know are wrong because you want to.

Being a child is awfully like being an adult.

Being a child is total confusion. Figuring someone else knows all the answers, and that maybe one day you’ll know them too. But then you’re an adult and you still don’t know any of the answers so what have you been working for this whole time? That’s when the lip quivers start again, only you’re an adult so why can’t you pull yourself together and fake it?

Being a child, though, was also fun. And that’s what we miss when we decide we’re adults. Who was the poor bastard that pulled 18 out of a hat and told us grow up? Now you’re an adult and therefore expected to understand the world and yourself, and you’re going to stop having a good time. You’re supposed to work and hate your job because everyone else does. But we all like fun, so why so serious? Why do we mandate that once you’re an adult, once you can stress-smoke until you puke, you have to hate everything and be cynical and just generally frown at everything?

I am a child, I’ll last a while.
You can’t conceive of the pleasure in my smile.

I refuse. I refuse to pretend that I know things. I refuse to drink things that taste gross (I’m lookin at you, Americanos) because I’m an adult and supposed to tolerate — no, accept — the bitterness of life.

So hey, I am a child. I cry when I feel sad. I cry when everything is beautiful, so beautiful that I’m overwhelmed and I think is this all in my mind? Is any of this even real? I cry because maybe I’m nothing, maybe all of this is nothing, maybe there’s no reason for me to bother smiling when everyone else swallows, grits their teeth, and looks the other way.

I’m Peter Pan in a world full of Captain Hooks, but I will feed you all to that crocodile and whistle on my merry way. And you’re not going to tell me no. I’m an adult, after all.

Technology Does Weird Things to Me

When I say that, I don’t mean I’ve been operated on by mutant robots (my appointment isn’t until Friday, and they say I should make a full recovery, but I’ll definitely have a bionic arm. Hopefully it doesn’t turn against me). I do mean that the interwebs and iPhones and whatnot make me do and say and care about weird things that I never would’ve done/said/cared about before.

Example: The other day, I looked up a YouTube video I’d previously commented on (it was a Mock the Week episode and Dara had made a weird face. I commented on said face and got the most upvotes…top comment! Jeah!) and got waayyyyy too excited about getting top comment. Then, someone had commented sassily in reply to my comment, and I wanted to be super rude to them and tell them to shut up.
And then I realized I was being insane. Getting top comment on a YouTube video means literally nothing in the scheme of my life. Being sassed by some random girl via the internet also means nothing to me. Being a jerk back makes me an asshole (so good thing I wasn’t!).

Basically, the internet barely matters. It matters to me in terms of this blog, because it’s an outlet for me to vent/be awesome/get my name and writing out there. But 99% of the internet is completely useless to me. Same goes for technology in general, unless I need heart surgery or a bionic arm or I really need to stalk someone.

iphoneWhich is why I ditched my iPhone on Sunday. Boom, universe exploded.

Guess what my phone does now? Calls and texts. Which is more than a phone was invented for in the first place anyway. Texting is technically superfluous, but it is the most superfluous thing I need in my life right now. Do I need Netflix on my phone? No. That was cool, but no. Do I need my bank statement on my phone? No. Also super cool and helpful, but a pen and paper will do the trick when I need to keep track of my finances. Do I need to play games on my phone? Definitely not…that’s not even really that cool anyway. There are pros and cons of smartphones, so I will now list them for you because I am good at listing. Also, it shows the world that I can indeed count.

6. Pro: You can access just about everything from your phone in an instant. This is super awesome when you need directions to Mindy’s house and Mindy lives in the middle of freaking nowhere and you’re lost because you took a left at Bessie the Cow instead of taking a right. Also awesome when you want to show someone a real-time video of you at the Great Wall of China, or when you need to check to see if the guy you just met is a serial killer (is there an app for that?).

4. Con: You can access just about everything from your phone in an instant. Why would I need sports scores delivered to my phone immediately, dinging 30 times to tell me that my favorite team lost? Unless I have a serious sports-gambling addiction, which I should get help for, I don’t need to know these things. Also, the fact that there’s an app to add a laugh track to my life is seriously disturbing.

5. Pro: You can check your email! Yay, now you can get work done while you’re on the toilet!

11. Con: see above…because really, nobody needs to do that.

3. Pro: People can always contact you! This is great for emergencies.

55. Con: People can always contact you. This is terrible for everything except emergencies.

I think you kinda get the pattern, here, right? Basically, smartphones are awesome, and they can make life way easier, but they also make everything a little more complicated. Also, I would like to look up from my phone and actually see the world once in a while. Some people are great at putting away their phone and enjoying life, but I wasn’t, so I MADE myself exercise self control.

Anyway, this may only last for the summer, but it’s a fun experiment, and I feel more awesome already! Thoughts?

Cool Girls Who Blog

I don’t know what it is, but…I don’t follow any male bloggers. Not a one. How is this possible, you ask?

Because my blog-following quota has been filled by some super cool girls who blog. And because we girls gotta stick together, I’ve decided to talk about some of these girls. Also, there are times when you need to know that other girls have weird TMI moments, too, like “I’m hungry but I kinda need to poo,” or “Just shut up and let me focus on my snot!” Not saying I’ve ever said those things…but…

A Confederacy of Spinsters: They love Stanley Tucci. Really, I don’t need to say more, but I will. They write odes to men in sweaters. They write about the awkwardness (and awesomeness) of online dating and calling your boyfriend baby. So basically, you should love them. Also, they’re super nice girls. And I bet they’re pretty, too. They won’t be spinsters for long.

Go Guilty Pleasures: Jules has been commenting on my blog for a long time, and since I am a bitch busy person, I hadn’t read her blog until this past week. But now I’m kinda addicted. She loves chipmunks, which I admire since I do too. Also, she basically is a chipmunk (in the best way), and she likes slap bracelets and (duh) guilty pleasures.

Girl on the Contrary: She’s insane. She’s cute. She’s a little obsessed with the apocalypse, but who isn’t? She makes stuff up in her head. I love her. We’ve written a post together. It’s awesome. Also, she’s southern. Y’all.

Monica’s Tangled Web: I like Monica because she’s a strong woman. I also like her because she’s been extremely supportive of me, which I appreciate since she doesn’t know me personally. I really love her. And I love her blog, especially since sometimes I don’t get discounts either, and I have a hard time with sales representatives treating me like I’m an idiot.

Writer’s Block: Ahahahahah yes I did! I included myself in this. Because if I don’t think I’m cool or my blog is noteworthy, no one will. So there. That’s philosophy. Or psychology. Or neither, really.

There are more. There are lots more. But I can’t be asked to write about them, mainly because I haven’t discovered them yet. But you guys should definitely scour the internet for more awesome blogs (written by both sexes, because we’re all about equal rights here).

I have now updated my blogroll, because I just 1) realized I haven’t in a year and 2) love the feeling of seeing my blog’s name on someone’s blog roll who I have never heard of. It gives me chills, honestly. Love it.

On a completely(ish) unrelated note, I may someday (in the distant future) make t-shirts for my blog. So. If you’re awesome, you’ll let me know what your favorite quotes and/or posts are from my blog. Ok? Ok.

Cheers to all of you for making my life merry and bright. It’s like Christmas on WordPress every day.


I was not the valedictorian of my high school; various science classes made sure of that. But I always thought it would be fun to make a speech in front of my entire class, mainly in order to force people to listen to my corny jokes, attempts to be deep, and “inspiring” statements. So since I wasn’t able to bless my class with my amazing insight last spring, I’m gonna do it now, online, for the whole world to see.

My fellow Americans (because that’s how every valedictorian speech should start),

High school was really bad. Like, really, really bad. I am personally ashamed of my various hairstyles throughout freshman and sophomore years, the boys I tried to date, and, sometimes, the pants I wore. Someone should have told me to lay off the weird eyeliner, to stop thinking that asshole guy was my soulmate, and to loosen up a little sometimes. But I learned most of those things on my own, though they did take a while. We will all continue to learn things about ourselves, and we will continue to regret certain things we did or did not do. But I guess, as they say, that’s part of life.

Most of us are headed off to colleges. Some will allow us to write Harry Potter quotes on the bathroom walls, and some will clean the bathrooms so often that we will never have the chance to see if those quotes would even be allowed. Some campuses will be small, and some will be so large that we will never stop being lost until the day before we graduate. Some will focus mostly on academics, and some will house more binge drinkers than you ever imagined existed. But the point of college is the same for all of us. To get the hell out of our homes…just kidding. The point is to learn, obviously, about what direction we want to head in, about our innermost desires, and about just how loudly we can play our music without being written up by the RA.

So, with that in mind, let us go forth into the world in peace, teaching others that alumni is not the singular form of a word, but plural. Let us ban Carrot Top from all casinos and other venues across this great nation of ours. Let us be courteous enough to not laugh like buffoons in the dining halls at our respective colleges and intelligent enough to know that socialism is a political ideology not to be confused with the term “social ability.” Let us also remember that the library is supposed to be silent and if you do not adhere to that rule I will personally bludgeon you with an encyclopedia. And finally, let us remember that the valedictorians of our high school will always be better than us, so we might as well all quit now.

You know the slogan (okay, no you don’t, cuz I made it up last night when I was sleep deprived): Valedictorians – We Don’t F Around.


I’m Here!

So I transferred colleges. The place where I was before was…well…imagine Edward Cullen’s favorite climate, add another bucket of rain, and you’ve got it. I transferred to a college closer to home. Orientation started today, the semester starts on Monday, and I’ve already learned a few things:

1. They’re obsessed with cheese here.

2. We all wear the same shirt apparently.

3. The mascot’s tail kinda drags on the ground. It’s pretty sad. But he’s really happy, so I guess it’s not sad?

4. I have a terrible sense of direction and have no idea where I am on campus. I could be on the moon for all I know.

5. Then I realized that I now live in a tiny town and if I get lost all I have to do is take a left at Bessie the Cow.

6. The hallway on my residence hall floor smells and echoes like a pool. But I don’t care.

7. I’m great at pantomimes and icebreakers. Hooray! I could pass for a third grader!

8. There’s sunlight here.

9. I cannot handle that they haven’t had us register yet. I have therefore come to the conclusion that I am easily stressed, very tense, and am definitely going to have blood pressure problems when I’m older.

10. I have too much stuff.

Happy late new years, by the way. I’m a huge ninnymuggins and have been planning a different post for about a week but apparently don’t have the drive to finish it. Or maybe it’s just because I just spent that week packing everything I care about into boxes.

Anyway, much love from my new school. Hopefully Edward doesn’t follow me here.

Those Imperfections

I like listening to records. My generation, for the most part, has missed out on this simple pleasure. There’s just something so amazing about putting the record on the player, moving the needle over it, flipping the switch…hearing the imperfections of those old records. After a while, you memorize the exact placement of each scratch, you know just when the guitar solo will go out for a moment and then surge back on, the product of a tiny scratch or mark.

It’s surprising that a person like me, who likes organization and perfection and who strives so much to be perfect that it’s becoming a problem, loves those little imperfections in life. I hate when things don’t go the way I plan, so why do I love when my music gets all fuzzy and screwed up and dust gets on my record needle and makes George Harrison’s voice go all wonky? Why do I cling to the scratch on my Julian Casablancas CD that causes a skip?

I didn’t know where I was going with this post, didn’t know the answer to any of these questions, until I wrote that last sentence. Those imperfections have become predictable for me. The records in my dad’s cabinet have been there my entire life. I grew up with them. I know that they’re old, so I know that they’ll be a little fuzzy, a little scratched. I take comfort in that. I take comfort in knowing exactly where Julian’s voice will skip out in “Out of the Blue.” Those imperfections that I think I love…they’re totally predictable, and in that sense they’re perfect. So maybe I don’t love imperfection as much as I thought I did ten minutes ago. But I do know this: I will always love fuzzy records and scratched CDs.

And for a while, you could comfort me and hold me for some time. I need you now to be beside me while all my world is so untidy. – George Harrison.