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180

This is me, sitting in a field of pretty weeds, on the corner of Division. Please note the gigantic, flat-bed truck in the back ground. Feel free to pull deeper meaning from this picture.


So far, the most exciting thing about graduating and being home (besides being back in Portland, which is always exciting) is finally getting a queen-size bed. I'm an adult! I'manadultI'manadult! I fucking love my hand-me-down queen bad, ok?

But really, other than that, it is a little sad. Not permanently sad, but nostalgic sad. Especially when I look back at the beginning of college, the first two years, when I just hated it. I was shockingly unhappy at Whitworth for most of those years, which was mostly my own fault, but was also North Spokane's fault, because honestly (and I can say this now because I don't live there anymore) North Spokane just sucks. Sucks so bad. It's a terrible place, unless you have a lot of friends to hang out with, which I didn't. So there you go.

I took the Myers-Briggs personality test my sophomore year, and I got INFJ. That personality definitely was me at that time, and it still is in some ways. Funnily enough though, I took the test again in the car yesterday, driving to Portland with my siblings, and I got ENFP, which makes sense now.

The second half of college was such a complete 180 from the first half. I think that I really was two different people; it amazes me how many friends I have/had in Spokane that I am sad to leave. Really, really sad to leave. I never thought that that would happen. Wow. Just WOW.

Mostly, college was just completely different from what I expected, in the best possible way. For example:

College Fantasty: I have many philosophical male friends. We sit around discussing Kant, and post-modern art, while drinking boxed red wine.

Reality: Spent 80% of my social time with women, who were wonderful and beautiful and supportive. Because men generally make self-conscious. Not always, but I just didn't meet the right kinds of men, until the very last second.

College Fanstasy: I excel at one subject easily. I am recognized as "the best blankety-blank blank on campus."

Reality: Turns out, I am not that good at anything. I don't mean that I am not good at anything, I just mean that I am not exceptionally good at anything. I am not a genius. But hey, that's ok.

College Fantasy: I immediately connect with an artistic, sensitive young man, who treats me wonderfully and understands every one of my quirks. We are the most adorable couple that has ever been.

Reality: Made it all the way through college without dating a single man. However, this taught me to valuable lessons both about myself and about the opposite sex. Like, I used to think that every guy is a nice guy, but that is NOT TRUE. A nice guy is rarer than I thought. Most importantly, I learned that you should always triple-check a man's relationship status. Seriously, do it. And probably steer clear of men who have had a serious girlfriend within the last three years. I also learned that I have the absolute worst timing in the world. It is truly, truly terrible.

In conclusion, I am happy and sad, and nostaligic and excited, and full of content and longing. Things need to be sorted, but they are good.

I am good.

Done With College? What What.

This is what I have learned over the past four years.

Ok go:

- Say yes to everything, unless there is a really-legit-good reason not to.
- I am always going to have cleavage. Always, no matter what I wear. That's fine. It's just how it IS.
- It's ok to watch TV. It is also okay to like Ke$ha and buy "Marie Claire" every month at Winco.
-Dessert after every meal is a bad idea. Unfortunately.
- Umm... BANGS. Bangs=awesome. My life became twice as intersting the moment I got bangs.
-There is no reason to do homework in advance. Because, guess what? GPA doesn't matter at all.
- I love to sing jazz.
- There are lots and lots of fantastic people in the world.
-Never trust a boy named Stephen
-It's okay to be pretty good at a lot of things, but not exceptional at any of them.
-I can go almost anywhere on foot.
-Always check for girlfriends.
-Letter-writing is underrated, but should be resurructed.
-I could live on mangos and sandwich thins.
-Everyone is likable if you let yourself like them.
-Karaoke is awesome.
-God is out there.

Lovely Weekend

Spokane finally produced it's first gorgeous spring weekend. Ahhhhh... That is the sound of me giving a huge sigh of relief.

I needed this weekend to re-realize that being wirh people brings me much more contentment than watching TV by myself in my bedroom, and that sitting in the sun and is one of the best sensations in the world.

I stayed up exra-late on Friday night to shave my legs so that I could wear a sundress on Saturday, and it was worth the loss of sleep.

Getting up at 6:30 in the morning doesn't even hurt if it is sunny outside.

Also, I learned something important: If you are upset about something beyond your control, you should go to a drag show. Yep, you should. It is a wonderful idea.

Advice If You Happen to Be Around Me Lately

Embracing the Booty Shorts: Part I

Do you see these shorts? I own them, or at least a pair that looks just like them. And in three weeks time, I will have to wear these shorts onstage and dance around. They will have a pair of nude tights under them, but STILL.

I don't wear shorts. The last time a pair of shorts was on my body in a public place, I hadn't yet gone through puberty yet.

Since receiving my booty shorts in the mail, I have been wearing them almost every day to get used to them. And you know what? They don't look half bad. That doesn't mean that I suddenly love my legs and think that they are super hot and sexy, but with tights and booty shorts, they are perfectly respectable legs.

So that's good to know, I guess.

As long as no one looks too closely.

Flat Line

I haven't had anything to write about lately. Life has felt like a flat line for awhile. It has been cold and gray and windy and gray and cold. I've been watching "Gilmore Girls," and eating a lot of yellow foods. Mangos, pineapple, cheesy toast.

I have fallen in love with Jess, Rory's second boyfriend.
I haven't done the majority of the things that I should have done.
I've spent lots of money on coffee to give me something to do.

Starbucks doesn't actually have very good coffee, but I've been going there a lot more than normal. There is an odd, shallow-yet-satisfying ritual that I've formed lately, which involves me, a girly magazing (preferably "Marie Claire" but I'll settle for less) and Hawthorne Starbucks.

So I was sitting there about a month ago, vaguely trying to disguise what I was reading, when this lady comes up to me to tell me that she likes my hair. "Is it henna?" she says.

"Why yes it is henna!" I says.

Then she told me that she used to live in Sweden and that she henna-ed her hair etc. etc. And I told her where I got my henna. And she was a friendly, cute middle-aged lady, and we had a nice interaction.

Then I saw her again a couple weeks ago, and we talked about henna some more, and she was just such a nice, happy lady.

Culmination: I saw her at Starbucks this week, and she came over and talked to me, not about henna, but just for the hell of it, because now we have become occasional Starbucks friends. Which I kind of love.And here's Jess, my TV lover.