Good Day

When your alarm goes off, you question how on earth it can be a good day. But when you finally manage to open your eyes and see sunlight softly glinting on the ceiling, even though it’s 7 am, you think, there might be hope for today. And then you sit up and immediately doubt it.

But when you eat a breakfast of oats ‘n’ honey granola topped with craisins, you think, I’m going to try and let this be a good day.

When you have a very, very, VERY long lab where you had to redo a part of the process and are going to have to book it to make it to chapel on time, you question how good of a day it will be. But when after that lab, you step outside to make it to chapel on time and you smell the wet, crushed leaves, you realize it might not be quite so bad.

And when you get really, really, really good sushi and General Tso’s chicken for lunch (and maybe it was that good because you were ravenous enough to eat bark), you begin to think the stars are singing the background music of your life. And you’re pretty certain it’s a good day. And when you have leftovers for dinner, to boot, you think you might have gotten a good day in spades.

When you get to work and are immediately greeted with, “We’re going to QT!”, you know it’s going to be a good day. Even though it’s already 2:30 in the afternoon. And when you get an ever so tiny but oh, so fulfilling pumpkin spice milkshake at QT, your suspicions of it being a good day are confirmed.

And even though there’s nothing much to do at work, you get to study some for that Biology test tomorrow that’s going to kill your soul, you’re thankful for the extra day before that test takes place. And you’re bored, but it’s better to be bored than frantic, you tell yourself, and remind yourself of the great things that happened today.

Maybe the sponsor staying in your room is nice and friendly and likes doTERRA as much as you do and only adds to the layers of smells in your room (Lavendar and Oregano, anyone?), you remind yourself that not even High School Festival can get the best of God in giving me a good day.

With the promise of Starbucks and those Chinese leftovers looming on the horizon, you’re excited that it will still be a good day. But with the uncertainties of much homework, and busy weekend, and possibly not finishing a friend’s present in time, you forget that it’s been a good day. So you choose to write a blog post to concretely remind yourself that, it has, in fact, been a good day.

Blood Soap Box

As I watch the little blinking cursor, I’m asking myself: What should I write? I know I had an idea earlier. Chapel was amazing. But digestion of that one needs to occur. So it wasn’t that.

I got to Skype with Chris Chant which was really refreshing. It’s nice to hear a different perspective.

I also donated blood. I think that’s what I wanted to write about.
First off, I’m not humble bragging. Because honestly, donating is not my favorite past time. But I love it. I. Love. Donating blood. It’s not fun, and it hurts and it’s tedious and it can take a lot of time, but I love it. Why? Because I can do something that’s extremely simple and it can make such a huge difference.

I can tell you the names and life stories of kids at my church who had to have heart surgeries as soon as they were born and wouldn’t have made it without blood donations. People from our church purposefully got together to donate to make sure there would be plenty of blood on hand for the surgery.

When my sister was about 6 months old, my mom had to have surgery. During the surgery, the doctor made a mistake and as a result, my mom went toxic. She nearly died. If people hadn’t donated blood, my mom would have died when I was three years old.

So now, even though I’m a busy college student who has a life (or pretends to), and homework and rehearsals I still take time to donate blood? Because I’m such an awesome person? No. Because I’m trying to guilt trip you into giving blood? No.

Do I think you should at least try? Yes. I understand that needles are scary and yes, the darn thing is huge. But it’s in your arm for less than 10 minutes on average. Most people are done in 5-7 minutes. The entire process of filling out information and having your iron checked and making sure you’re okay to leave…that all takes about an hour.
An hour.

An hour out of your life, and some mild inconvenience and a little bit of pain can save lives.
You could save someone’s preemie.
Or Mom.

Isn’t that worth it?
I think so.

Welcome to March

I realize it’s been two days since I last blogged.
I’m really not doing well about keeping up with this lately. It’s like it’s fallen to the bottom of the priority list, as if I have important things to do like schoolwork and maintaining relationships and occasionally sleeping. Huh. Go figure.

WELL. It’s the first of March and got off to a rollickingly good start.
And by that I mean I woke up on the wrong side of the bed and proceeded to be in a deplorable mood, even after my devotions. Although the devotions did cause me to feel guilty and rethink my behavior, so that’s good.

Eventually, Starbucks happened as did various and sundry homework.

I also spent about two hours this evening dying people’s hair. Tomorrow, I will be dying more people. At this point, I’m going to become addicted to the smell of ammonia.
I’m okay with that, actually.
KILL ALL THE BRAIN CELLS!

*ahem*

Apparently, my bio for the society is “A psych major who writes an awesome blog”. And yes. Maybe I added the word “awesome”.
But at least someone realizes I actually have a blog.
Which I am finally attending to.

But now it is time for bed.
Good night.

Apocalypse Now

This morning, I woke up. And I was able to breathe.
It was amazing.

Sadly, my health went downhill. But it was a beautiful moment.

SO after I got over the disappointment that my health was deteriorating and played in the snow (basically I looked like a bunny on crack), and got some homework done, the real excitement began. And by that: chaos.
Let me set the scene: I had just come back from a lovely dinner with my roommates and Burgundy at the snack shop. I had also splurged and bought a grapefruit Izze.

Back in the dorm, I am drinking the rest of my Izze, and calling O when all of a sudden I have a huge muscle spasm and knock Izze onto Evan. Evan is my laptop, in case y’all have forgotten.
Evan does not like soda, for some reason. I’m still baffled as to why, but there it is. Cold hard truth.

I get Evan turned off and the battery out of the back of him while I’m still continuing to calmly carry on a conversation with O. As I get the hairdryer plugged in (nobody freak out: I do know what I’m doing, the hairdryer was kept on low and cool the entire time), I turn with the hairdryer in my hand and knock my favorite mug into the sink.
And manage to break the handle off it. So, I put Evan on hold, because he’s off and therefore hopefully not being any more damaged than what has already occurred and start looking for my super glue. Which I finally find after looking in every possible place. It was where it belonged. Which is where I checked first.

I am still talking to O at this point.

I get the glue out and try to put the handle back together only to realize there’s not enough glue to put a pinhead back on, much less an actual handle on a coffee mug. So I set the mug to the side, calmly breathing to keep my blood pressure down. At this point, Burgundy comes in, and I can tell she needs to talk to me.

Therefore I tell O I’m going to have to call her back because the Apocalypse has started. Burgundy has some news for me. At this point, I should back up a bit and fill you in on some history: Burgundy, Unicorn, I and two guys were going off campus for the evening to hang out. Here at the Bob, you must have odd numbers and unevenly matched so that no possible besmirching of characters can happen.

Unicorn is feeling ill again tonight, though, so after we get back, we arrange to get Twigg to go with us in her place. Minor problem: Twigg has already left to go to a friend’s house, cook dinner and chill THERE for the evening. And since she has no wifi, I cannot text her. Instead, I text her friend. Who then talks to Sarah. And then texts me back. And I text the guy who is coordinating this. We finally negotiate a time, a pick up place and all the players in motion. This is roughly simultaneous with me spilling Izze.

So then Burgundy comes in and says that she has a big test tomorrow and feels bad about this, but she’d really like to skip out, is that okay? And for real: it’s fine. But I now need to go back through the hoops again, text Twigg’s friend, tell her to just stay at the friend’s house, notify the boy and tell him to just go have fun with his male friend, and we were all going to just wait here.
Okay.
Great.
Now we’re just down to me and Evan.

I manage to unscrew the back of Evan, and pry him open enough to sop out most of the Izze and blow dry his innards. I then screwed his back back in place (praise the Lord for the screwdriver set Dad left here), and prayed really really hard.
And miraculously, Evan turned on. After I put in his battery, of course. His mousepad is still a bit persnickety. So we’ll have to wait to see if he’s truly safe, but at any rate, he is functioning. Praise God.

After that much drama, I threw my hands up at schoolwork and decided that valentines were all I was good for. So I put together a butt load of valentines, sent them on their way and called my sister back.
She was very understanding, bless her sweet soul.

I think it’s time for bed now, though, because honestly, I can’t handle this kind of stress and torture in my life. What will I do when I have children.
I have no idea.

But that’s another problem for another day.
Good night, everyone.
Happy Valentine’s Day Eve.

Bench Pressing and Beasts

Apparently Twigg read my Beauty and the Beast article today. She’s firmly convinced I should have it published, mainly because after reading it, she said “I wanted to kill myself or cry or something”. That is high praise.

I also bench pressed for the first time ever today. And before you get all impressed, I only did 55 pounds total. BUT. For a spaghetti-armed little girl like me, that’s pretty exciting. I also biked 5 miles in 20 minutes. Inside. On a stationary bike while I read Les Mis.

Speaking of which, I’m a little over 80% done with that particular book.

I have laughed much and been ultra aware of it today, because my abs are screaming curses and hatred at me. And what is my response?
I laugh some more to spite them.

I have stayed up past my bedtime doing homework. I know all of you are thinking, “She’s just a light weight. It’s not even late yet! Poor bubby with her bedtime”. Well, all I have to say to that is, “I am only as spiritual as I am rested”.
So deal with it.

Goodnight.

Twigg vs. Me: Personality Wars

For today’s selection, I have chosen an adequate sampling of the juxtapositioning of Twigg and my personalities. It also sums up why we need each other.

Last night, she bursts into my room to tell me that we only have THREE AND A HALF MONTHS LEFT! I had just been telling myself that I can make the whole five month period. This will be fine. No worries. It’s okay.
Except, according to Twigg, it’s only three and a half.

You see, I’m the practical, logical one who desperately needs control and routine and I’d rather sell myself the hard story because it creates less disappointment.
Sarah flies through life, is occasionally shot down really hard, but all in all, she sees the sky. Life is conquerable because life is awesome.

And we need each other. Otherwise she’d never do homework and I’d probably kill myself. I definitely think I get the best side of that bargain.

In other news, I have revisited work, hugged some more friends, eaten in the DC, gone to service and swapped more books and cash.
Tomorrow, the games begin.

Oyez, Oyez

Let it be known that on this day, December tenth, in the year of our Lord two thousand and thirteen, I threw a royal fit.
I regret it, and thankfully no one witnessed it, but I just broke down and cried.

It is just that time of the semester. At this point, I’m pretty certain the most minor of tragedies or even non-tragic events could move me to tears. Absolutely enthralling state to be in.

Otherwise, the weather continued to be my friend, my classes went smoothly and I’m procrastinating and working on my paper for Brit Lit. I think I have finished all homework for science and possibly several other classes. Bizarre.

I got two cards in the mail today. That was encouraging and I beamed like a fool all the way from my po box to my room.

I auditioned. Cold read, rant about cancer and death mints. I think it went well. At least people laughed. So that was encouraging. The spike of adrenaline was nice, too.

No more tears, now, okay?
Okay.
Good.

No Little Women

WELL, the director decided not to use my prodigious talent. All I can say is that it is their loss. I will admit that I was completely crushed and gave myself over to grief with wild abandon after reading the rejection email at work.
Alright, so enough hyperbole: I was disappointed, but now I am fine and I also can’t wait to see the musical. Because really, I just love theatre.

I made it through all my classes without falling asleep, got a good bit of work accomplished (including calling out on my phone!), ate dinner in the Snack Shop with Twigg, and was in my pajamas by 7. Don’t judge me.
And now I’m reading homework leisurely in bed, waiting until I am allowed to go to sleep.

Have a wonderful evening, everyone.

FULL SATURDAY

I got up at 8 am.
On a Saturday.
Of my own volition.
Because Samantha and her mother picked me up from the dorm and we went to the Indi art show. I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed that. It was so. Much. Fun. There was so much good stuff…so many artistic…so many creative…I nearly died. My brain was melting. I couldn’t handle it.

Then I went to Samantha’s house and we were both very good little girls and studied. We actually got a lot of homework done. I’m very proud of us.
Did I tell anyone…I’m taking Greek? Apparently they believe in not using normal punctuation, BUT they do believe in certain pieces of our punctuation to mean completely different things. So not only does the “p” make the “r” sound, but the semicolon also makes a question. Fantastic.
(except I’m still really loving it)

Tonight was induction. GO MUSTANGS. After strewing streamers and balloons around our area, we then created a human welcoming arch for all twelve new Mustangs. We then covered all the officers in shaving cream, played Drip, Drip, Splash (instead of Duck, Duck, Goose. You fill in the blanks), and then messy Twister.
And now I’m exhausted. And ready for bed.
So off to prayer group.
Good evening, y’all.

Don’t Take Any Implications from the Piece Chosen

Great day. I’m loving school. So much so, I think I’m scaring a few of my teachers and classmates. But because I’m eyeball deep in homework and yet still want to have fun tomorrow, I’m not writing a long blog post tonight. Instead, here is my favorite piece by Shakespeare:

And yet I know not how to get the crown,
For many lives stand between me and home:
And I,–like one lost in a thorny wood,
That rends the thorns and is rent with the thorns,
Seeking a way and straying from the way;
Not knowing how to find the open air,
But toiling desperately to find it out,–
Torment myself to catch the English crown:
And from that torment I will free myself,
Or hew my way out with a bloody axe.
Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile,
And cry ‘Content’ to that which grieves my heart,
And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, 200
And frame my face to all occasions.
I’ll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall;
I’ll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
I’ll play the orator as well as Nestor,
Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy.
I can add colours to the chameleon,
Change shapes with Proteus for advantages,
And set the murderous Machiavel to school.
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
Tut, were it farther off, I’ll pluck it down.