How to get your Big Girl Badge

aka In Which I'm Not So Much an Adult as I am Just a Really Tall Child. Except Not Really Because I'm Only 5'3".

Every once I'll find myself thinking, "Look at me! I do grown up things now! I'm an adult! Weeeee!" and then I realize that by using exclusively exclamation points and still saying "Weeeee!" I'm really not qualified for my Real Life Adult stamp yet. But I have gotten my Big Girl Badge, and this is how:

Things my room mate does: Cook chicken pesto pizza for dinner.
Things I do: Cook macaroni and cheese with cut up hot dogs for dinner.

Things my room mate does: Wear business attire to her Real Adult Job.
Things I do: Quit my job because it's boring and I want more time to sleep in the mornings.

Things my room mate does: Pay rent on time.
Things I do: Forget that I don't get to live here for free. Frequently. EVERY MONTH.

Things my room mate does: Take her MCAT and prepare to graduate next May.
Things I do: Have to look up what MCAT stands for and consider dropping out of college for a semester.

Things my room mate does: Eat a well-balanced breakfast every morning.
Things I do: Forget every morning that I'm lactose intolerant and have milk with my cocoa puffs.

Things my room mate does: Put on makeup in a way that makes her look super professional and cute.
Things I do: Somehow make it to 20 and STILL not know how to put on eyeliner correctly.

Things my room mate does: Take her essential vitamins every day.
Things I do: Take my fruit-flavored chewy vitamins every day.

Things my room mate does: Sit right next to me and study for her test tomorrow.
Things I do: Write this blog post and wish there were little kids trick-or-treating in our neighborhood to distract me further. Also, CANDY. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE......

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

emails to remind me that heartbreak is a universal thing, and that best friends are our soulmates.

{via.}

From: Me
To: Cyndi

He told me he loved me. That's why this is upsetting me so much. He told me he loved me one night when I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up because he was stroking my hair and he whispered it in my ear because he thought I was still asleep. He's the first really good guy who has loved me who I actually had feelings for back (since the high school version of Mr. Man; let's face it, Mr. Man kind of sucks now). He's the first guy that ever shared my political views, that would drop everything and travel if he could, that opened doors for me, that gave me his jacket when I was cold, that wanted to do mundane things with me like go grocery shopping just because he got to be with me, that would rub my back without me asking, and that not only took my dark past in stride but let me hear about his secrets too. He was the Northeastern blonde-haired blue-eyed boy that I've always thought I'd end up marrying (you know, if Rupert Grint was unavailable). He said 'coffee' with that cute Yankee accent and literally gave me goosebumps and made me weak-kneed when he kissed me. Do you know he's actually the first guy that used the word 'beautiful' to describe me? And 'sexy.' No one else has either called me those things -- I get 'pretty,' or 'hot,' but never 'Beautiful.' And yet we could still totally geek out and watch old reruns of Inuyasha together and study together somewhat diligently and fall asleep on the couch cuddling.

I know I said I was going to be careful, that I'd guard myself, that I wouldn't fall for this one. But fuck, by the time I said that I was already way over my head. And I would really desperately like to hate him, but that truth of the matter is that if he knocked on my door rightthissecond and said it was a mistake, that he loves me, that he hates himself, I'd probably take him back. And I really just hate myself for that.

And I totally know this is normal and that every one goes through this and that even though I think right now that he's over me and that I'll never be over him and that my life is over, it's not. So you don't need to remind me. I know I'll be okay. I'm just going to buy some hair dye and some ice cream and I'll be okay soon. But right now, I really need someone else to hate him too, so even though you met him for about five seconds, and know nothing about him, I really need you to tell me that you hate him too.

From: Cyndi
To: Me

1. I read all of this.
2. Hate is a strong word and I refuse to apply it to a singular person. Inanimate objects, sure. People by themselves, no.

But I'll say I hate boys like him.

Boys like him, and like Z. Those boys who are so ridiculously good to you, you initially start out scared for how things'll turn out, because it can't be true. So you edge off a bit, then fall in like Alice through the rabbit hole. And things are seemingly perfect because he seems like the closest you'll ever find to a soul mate because you have the same taste in music, have the same weird habits and can have debates about stupid things like typography. Because he said all those things you've been dying to hear and kissed away every insecurity and instance of self doubt.

But the moment it all ends they leave you in this state of self-loathing. Of wondering why you can't hold on to the only thing you thought was worthwhile in your life and the only person you thought would love you that way. And you live with replayed silly memories as well as the instant that you knew things were over. And you know you'd take him back no matter what. Because lets face it, in my case, Z has been beyond douche, and I'd like to think I wouldn't, but if he so much as skyped me right now being like "I miss you, lets give us another chance, etc." I'd be down for it in a heart beat.

And you know what. It's not normal. Everyone goes through it yes, but its not normal. Because no one should have to feel like this. No one deserves it. No one can act like (or should act like and claim) that this is normal or that you'll ever be okay again. Because you won't be. No matter how subtly this'll change you in some way. And how can that be okay? You'll recover. That's a sure thing. But you've also lost something.

Yes. I hate boys like him. That's the aspect that's ok to hate. I hate them with every fiber in my being and every tear that I shed and every breath and beat that courses through me.

From: Me
To: Cyndi

You're right. I don't hate him. I never could, even if I wanted to. Even if I was okay with hating another human being. But the fact of the matter is that he is another real life person with a thoughts and feelings and a heart beat, a heart beat that once lulled me to sleep and convinced me that everything would be okay, that it was finally safe to be truly happy. And if nothing else, I'll always care deeply about the idyllic few weeks we had before the real world came in and reminded us that nothing is perfect, that happiness is followed by sorrow, and that love is fleeting.

Rock The Republic

Just a little iPhone shot to show you what I'm doing this weekend. I work for the Maroon Weekly now and I'll be at Rock the Republic, a music fest in Bryan, TX all weekend. If you're there, find me in my Maroon Weekly shirt and say hi! :)

advice.

{via.}

"I have no advice for anybody; except to, you know, be awake enough to see where you are at any given time, and how that is beautiful, and has poetry inside. Even the places you hate."

-Jeff Buckley-

Thanks, Nicole. :)

weekend plans.

{via.}

Find a Halloween costume.

Get some sleep.

Take a bubble bath.

Relax.

Read something not school related.

Catch up with my friends.

Play with a puppy.

Laugh.

Be outside.

What are your plans for this weekend?

{via.}

things that make me smile.

{via.}

I could be upset right now if I really wanted -- Mr. Man and I broke up, summer is going away and Texas seems to be skipping right to winter, school is stressful, one of my teachers is an ass -- but there are just too many things to smile about.

Old reruns of Pinky and the Brain.
Meeting an online friend in real life.
Planning to meet another some time soon.
Walking my friend's dogs with him in cool weather.
Writing.
Feeling like the universe is giving me each day as a personal gift.
Knowing I'll be seeing my cousin in Dallas this weekend.
Having friends that remind me they love me every day.
Donating money to a nonprofit I barely even knew existed. (Thanks, Olivia Rae!)
Knowing that people like the guys doing Pedal for Prevention exist.
Starting my Wreck This Journal.
Volunteering.
Getting a photography internship with a local newspaper.
Laughing, a lot.
Eating whatever the hell I want.
Teaching a little girl how to read.
Considering a new tattoo.
Finding some new pen pals.
Joining campus organizations that are doing something good for the world.
Living life loudly and voraciously.
This one week of fall weather Texas is giving us.
Feeling healthy enough to go running again.
Reading inspiring blogs.

What are you guys smiling about these days?

Weekend in photos.

Saturday.

Sunday.

Pictured: Cyndi, Mollee, and Stephanie.

Didn't Your Momma Teach You Anything?

Or, Spend My Money More Wisely, TAMU.

Dear Texas A&M,

I understand you're in the middle of a budget crisis. The Texas Legislature is telling you to cut almost 15% of your budget. That's A LOT. It sucks. I get it. I've been there; my parent's have cut me off before, too. It's a little scary, isn't it?

When my parents cut me off for a little while, I had to make decisions, cut out excess. I didn't decide not to pay rent or electric, and spend that money on coffee and clothes, did I? I bought sandwich meat instead of steak. I think we can both agree that that would have been a rather silly decision to do otherwise. Like, get your priorities in line, right?

You're a university. You are, by default, an institution theoretically filled with intelligent people. So we would expect you to deal with this budget crisis smartly; you'd do some things you're already doing. Things like: getting rid of obsolete landlines in an age when everyone has cells; not raising pay; letting TAMU basically become a billboard for Pepsi Co.. We'd think you'd do little things that add up to a lot, like turn off lights in your offices at night, use more energy efficient lightbulbs, stop keeping Harrington so damn cold all the time, etc.

So, why is it that I hear you're doing some less than brilliant things? Firing our professors, A&M? Come on, now. They're literally the lifeblood of the university. I get that their salaries are a huge chunk of our budget, but they are necessary. I would maybe understand if the incoming freshman class was small, so you didn't need as many profs teaching the same basic level subjects. If the student body was shrinking, it'd make sense. But each incoming class increases in size. And it's not like our lecture halls can hold more people per class. And honestly, it makes TAMU look bad when our teacher:student ratio changes negatively. With an increasingly larger student body and diversifying education, we need those professors.

Also, what about all this construction on campus, TAMU? I can think of five recent projects off the top of my head, ranging from kind of useful to a terrible investment, especially in the middle of a budget crisis, i.e. the glorified sidewalk running parallel to another perfectly good sidewalk in Academic Plaza. How much did that cost? About one prof's yearly salary? No one even sits on those benches, guys. It was a waste of money.

You know what else is a huge investment? Your salaries. The administration's. I don't see any of y'all getting fired. The bureaucracy at this school continues to grow, getting less and less streamlined (i.e. more and more frustrating for students and profs), wasting more and more money, and the necessary features of a school are what are being removed? What are you going to take away next, TAMU? Our desks? Just so you don't have to admit that maybe our administration has gotten too big? I understand that it's hard to stand up and say "My job is useless. I quit on the condition that you do away with my position entirely." But you probably should. Combine duties. Make it so any one person's job includes doing more than one task. You'll streamline the school and keep what we actually need -- teachers in the classrooms.

Universities exist for the education of their students, not for the glory of their administrators. Think about it.