Fall Break Recap

HEY I WENT TO TEXAS. It was fantastic.

Fall Break started with my 8 AM circuits lab, which usually makes me want to flip a lid but this week we were dealing with combinatorial logic - easily my favorite topic in all of circuit theory. It didn't hurt that we were able to finish lab in under the allotted 3 hours. My flight to San Antonio made a pit stop at DFW, and it was trying to sit so close to home for an hour or so without being able to get there. I got over it, though, once I boarded the flight for San Antone and the grooviest brother around. I'll try to refrain from singing his praises too much, so I don't make him blush, but he was waiting at the airport to pick me up before I even got there, took me straight to downtown San Antonio, and directed us to world famous Tex-Mex. Street vendors around the restaurant were peddling all sorts of Mexican wares, so the only obvious course of action was for us to try on multiple goofy hats and purchase the best as finishing touches on our ACL hipster ensembles, and then wear them until we got back to his apartment, right? Right. The night was still young at that point, though, so for good measure we got our minds blown by Looper and ate snuck-in sweetbreads in the theater. Actually sweet breads, as in pastries, not sweetbreads as in animal organs. There was a little confusion on this front, but we cleared it up. (Can I just say hallelujah for the advent of the smartphone? Innumerable are the times that I mention some offhand, unnecessary trivia that can only be validated by on the spot googling.)

Then the next day was ACL Day. Oh, glorious day. After a morning of music videos on the Youtube and an extremely successful trip to the HEB, we met up with some of Brandon's law school friends (who all happen to be wildly attractive ladies. props, Yo-Man) and caravanned down to weird old Austin, just in time for some more Tex-Mex before hitting Zilker Park. Now, I've had a POA for this day since the minute the schedule was released, opting for quality over quantity. So I saw Andrew Bird, The Shins, and Jack White. Ermehgehrdness I loved every minute of it. Andrew Bird was a whistling, violin strumming treat. The Shins were amazing, per usual. And Jack White was unbelievable. He's kind of my hero, and I was about 10 yards from the front of the crowd, right in the thick of things. Not only did he play stuff from his recent solo album, he also played gems from the Raconteurs and the White Stripes. Seven Nation Army, y'all. Live. I was in dorky Jack White lover heaven. Seriously, though, I could go on and on concerning that man. I'll spare y'all. All throughout the day we were subjected to short, albeit torrential, downpours, which just made the whole thing more fun and memorable in my opinion. Due to the rain, I didn't come away with too many pictures. Though I've also tried to stop focusing on picture taking at concerts in order to really enjoy the moment. I hardly ever go back and look at them, so what's the point?

Replete with live music, we filled our bellies with some Whataburger before settling in for the night. The next morning we breakfasted at a diner before parting ways, law students off to study for torts and yours truly passed into the able hands of my parents for the journey east. Where I got to Don Juan's as soon as possible. Then I exercised my power of being an exhausted college student home for a short break. And by that I mean I asked my mom to go to Hastings for me because I was really in the mood for a period drama. YOLO. She brought me Jane Eyre. I want to be Jane Eyre. I want to watch this movie every second for the rest of my life. It was great. The next day, because it would be silly to actually take a break on my break, I undertook to make a t-shirt quilt with my middle school t-shirts. I managed to finish the quilt top and starting the actual quilting before running out of time and thread. Something to look forward to for Thanksgiving, I suppose. That night I got to spend time with my practically sister. We are scarily similar and I love it. She helped me make a tutu for my Halloween costume at our family dinner without batting an eye. This is especially impressive when you consider the fact that "costume" wasn't at all mentioned in the proposition, which went sort of like this: "Will you help me make a tutu?" "Sure."

In short, I love live music, I love Jack White, I love my family, I love food, I love Texas, I love home. Let's do this again sometime, ok, Texas?

These Streets Remind me of Quicksand

Yesterday afternoon some friends and I decided to go hiking. We decided to go hiking at the same time that everyone else in Atlanta decided to go to the Braves game. T R A F F I C. Thank goodness these newfangled GPS thingies do not run on Apple Maps and can actually get you where you want to go, even sporting handy "Avoid All Possible Traffic" features. Now, avoiding all possible traffic is not the same thing as avoiding all possible ghettos. I know this because our route took us through a bit of a shady neighborhood. But here's the thing, y'all: it felt like home. So far, the majority of my Atlanta sketchiness exposure has been limited to big city stuff, which is not anything you'll ever see in Tyler, Texas. This adventure, however, had me feeling like I was in North Tyler, crusin' down Gentry. I can't explain it, but that just made me feel so at home and at peace. Odd, I know. Completely unplanned, we came across a rickety shack touting Atlanta's Best Burgers. It was Ann's Snack Bar. GHETTO BURGERS, Y'ALL. These burgers are legendary, meaning we couldn't very well just pass up the opportunity, could we? So we walked in, occupied four of the ten bar stools (when all ten are full, no one else is allowed to come in the building - it's serious stuff), and sat there until the cook was ready to take our order and grill up our Ghetto Burgers. Goodness gracious, they were delicious. And after the tiny detour we got back on our quest to Arabia Mountain, which is actually less mountain more monadnock, where we walked in and around the old quarries until the sun set. So, here's to new adventures, to exploring more of what Atlanta has to offer, to eating Ghetto Burgers, to being outdoorsy chic, and to going to bed by 9:45 on a Friday night. Sometimes, life is alright.

booksandbooksandbooks

I've spent countless hours thinking about goals for this semester/year. Some are silly, some are serious, some benefit me, some benefit others, some are big, some are small. Given my track record on things like new years' resolutions and diets that perpetually start tomorrow, I'm working extra hard to follow through on these goals. I guess you could call it a goal to achieve my goals...

Anyway, one of the most prevalent things I think of over and over again is the fact that I want to do stuff. I've been living in Atlanta, a super cool city, for two years now and I feel like I haven't even scratched the surface of all that's available to do. Cue this morning's excursion to the Decatur Book Festival with the roomie. It was a Molly Cook dream come true. There were books, authors, and giant crossword puzzles everywhere. And I got a Michael Jackson paper doll fo' free. Step one on my journey to do stuff: complete.

So here's to book festivals, and here's to this blag keeping me accountable for reaching my goals.

Friday Five

Five Literary Characters That I Think I Could Actually Be Friends With.
Let's be honest, there are some characters that I'd definitely love to be friends with that probably wouldn't give me the time of day. There are also some characters that I would hate to be friends with. There are also characters like Aslan that don't need to be mentioned because WHO DOESN'T WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH ASLAN?

*this was hard. there are lots of characters that I really want to be friends with. these are in no particular order. also, it's weird trying to defend why you would want to be friends with someone...

5. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pride and Prejudice. Sort of bad at making first impressions, mildly socially inept, but a great friend once made? Sounds strikingly like the Picnic Club. Really, though, Mr. Darcy is probably the Pride and Prejudice character that I feel I relate to most. Please appreciate this major breakthrough on my part, since every girl in the world wants to be Elizabeth Bennet (or at least they should) and it takes a lot to accept that one might not exactly be Lizzy material.

4. Dagny Taggart, Atlas Shrugged. Dagny takes care of business. I feel like she would be the friend that I would automatically lock eyes with when group work was announced because I would know that she'd leave me alone to do my part and that I could trust her to do her part. Then we would finish the project before everyone else and use the extra time to talk about stuff and solve the world's problems. In pencil skirts. Very stylishly without being stylish.

3. Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter. I feel like this would be one of those opposite enough to be entertaining but alike enough to work out friendships. Ginny seems to be braver and brassier than I am, especially in the later books, but she's smart and collected about it. As much as I'd love to be friends with book Hermione, she would get on my nerves. And book Harry is too busy being angsty and killing Voldemort and whatnot to make and retain many new friends. Ginny, though, we would click.

2. Rosie Cotton, The Lord of the Rings. Rosie Cotton is the hobbit that Sam ends up marrying at the end of the adventure. Despite dreams of being a graceful warrior elf or a crazy awesome Nazgul slayer woman, I think my disposition is rather more suited towards being a hobbit. Rosie and I could dance with ribbons in our hair, eat second breakfasts, and drink tea while our husband hobbits tilled the yard and tended the garden.

1. Scout Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird. Let's face it, I was a prime candidate for bossing around. You could call it "easygoing" or "reserved" or "a sweet child", but it all boils down to being really good at having people tell you what to do. I was that girl, and Scout would be a perfect boss. We would be friends because we're both smart, but I would be decidedly less interesting and Scout would convince me take part in antics that I would never do on my own.

0. Vicky Austin, A Ring of Endless Light. Sorry, I had to include one more. Ahem, "Vicky shares a similar personality to Madeleine L'Engle. Both share a passion for literature and poetry, and use writing to express their ideas as well as their emotions. In addition, both struggle with the problem of evil, but ultimately believe in the existence of a loving God" (Wikipedia). Plus she can talk to dolphins. I think it would work out quite well.

birfdaze

Today is a good day. Why? Because as I was walking to class, I passed the same French lady and her dog as I do every morning. And every morning I want so badly to pet this dog. Every. Morning. After I passed, I head French exclamations, felt a nuzzle on my hand, and looked back to see that the pup had followed me and was begging me to throw her tennis ball. So I did.

Today is also a good day because it is a remarkable day of birth. Not one, not two, not even three, but FOUR awesome birthdays are today.

K-Fed and I survived Croatia together and have the friendship bracelets to prove it.

Taabish gives me advice about boys and physics.

SB, aka Snuggs and Kisses, makes my life more exciting.

And now, the pièce de résistance,

The brosky, who's been mentoring me in the ways of fashion since '92.

Study for Hrothgar

I found this beautiful story on the interwebz. It's all about two extremely smart, witty, and good looking roommates who started a campaign during their Dead Week. They pledged to devote all of their time to studying for finals and really learning class material, making up for those nights earlier in the semester spent torrenting movies and learning dance moves on YouTube, in order to bounce back from a few undesirable scores and end the semester with stellar grades. And what better to rally around than the idea of a sweet, tender, loving, pet? After several phone calls with one of the amazing roommate's amazing mother, they had spoken promise that if grades were delivered, the two could MAYBE get a kitten for their apartment next year. "Maybe" was all these motivated and incredibly stylish women required: days were spent in the same positions in their living room, working practice problems and making flashcards, stopping only every once in a while to practice the Wop or belt out Broadway classics. When such motivated and clever young ladies put their minds to something, things work out. This case was no different. Grades were delivered, and it was time to start looking for the perfect kitten.

Unfortunately, one of the classy and fabulous roommates had plans to be out of the country for the summer and would be unable to meet the precious kitten when it was found. But these striking girls organized a Skype date across time zones, one rising early, the other staying up late, in order to come together as one, beautiful, sweet family.

identities have been protected

Isn't that just the most precious thing?

Birthday Shenanigans

Can I just say, my roommates are way better than yours. I don't even care if your roommates are Boba Fett and Werner Heisenberg, my roommates still top that. Why? Because they lied to me and deceived me on my birthday, resulting in only the best surprise party ever.

They all finished class around noon yesterday, while I still went strong from 2-5. It was just enough time for them to bake cakes, brownies, and rice crispie treats, blow up balloons, clean the apartment, and hide it all from view - except the brownies. They said they cleaned the apartment and baked brownies as my birthday present, and I thought to myself, "These girls really get me! That was so thoughtful. La-dee-da!" Then, we went to dinner. Two came late, supposedly having to shower. After dinner, we came back to the apartment and I was asked to open the door since my keys were easily accessible. Then everyone inched back. I opened the door and saw streamers, and thought to myself, "Oh, they must have stayed behind to decorate the apartment! That's why they were late to dinner. La-dee-da!" Then everyone inched back more and I was attacked on all sides by yelling and lights coming on and people climbing out from behind couches. I freaked out. Mainly because for the longest, the only person I could see was a friend of a friend that I had never seen before crawling out from under our coffee table. (It's a tad hazy, but I vaguely remember pointing at him and yelling, "Who is that!?!" over and over. Sorry about that, bruh.) Once I got over the initial shock, I was asked to retrieve something from the pantry. When I opened the pantry someone else was in there and yelled at me. I freaked out again. Then, because my game is rarely even on for parties I know about and can prepare for, much less ones that take me by surprise, I told everyone that my mom planned a surprise birthday party for my fourteenth birthday and I cried. My roommates again proved to be the best ever because they swooped in right after that crash and burn, suggesting we sing and cake. We did. And listened to R. Kelly's "Ignition (Remix)". And did the wop and the dougie. And if that wasn't enough, my roommates again proved to be the best ever because they told me of how they had tried to invite Casey/KC to come, but couldn't find him.

So, yes, you should be jealous that I live with three - and sometimes four - of the raddest kids on the block.

Some Day-to-Day

If it had to be my last week in Texas, you had better believe I was going to make it count, starting with New Year's celebrations hot and fresh off of a ski trip. Celebrations that included charades, spontaneous shuffling, fire building, s'mores, leaping over open flame, never ever have I ever, a fair share of laughter, and one wicked hat. On New Year's day, you bet your boots I ate a heaping serving of black-eyed peas for good luck. Then, the jam packed week began.

Monday Gunday. Most people, when you express a longing to shoot guns, give a quick titter before briskly walking away and giving you odd glances across the room. Other people, like my grandpa, take a moment to think, then say, "Well, we'll need some guns. Give me a week." Then the next time you go to their house they have multiple firearms spread out in the guest bedroom. Then they pick you up and take you out to some property where you can shoot off multiple rounds of ammunition at targets that look like squirrels. True story. I shot a .22 rifle, a .22 pistol, a .357 magnum, a .38 special, and a 20 gauge. Variety is the spice of life, my friends. Plus, nothing says grandparent-grandchild bonding time quite like bullseyes and sporting clays.

Tuesday Two-Stepping. Not that it has anything to do with two-stepping, but on Tuesday I found my absolute, hands down, favorite pair of socks, which have been MIA for the past six months or so. They are fleece and irreplaceable. They were hiding, and I was afraid I had lost them forever. Very afraid. But the world is set right and I have my fleece socks again, so everyone can stop worrying. In the evening, though, my dad did transform the living room into a dance floor, put on the George Strait, and dusted off his figurative boogie shoes in order to teach me how to two-step. He also threw in some waltz and polka lessons pro bono.

Wednesday Unbirthday Party. Wednesday was not my birthday. But we did have a birthday party. Before the birthday party, though, I learned how to pwn Settlers of Catan. And I singlehandedly brought back the usage of pwn. My unbirthday party was at Jucy's, because I like my burgers done Jucy's style. I also like how their styrofoam cups are conducive to jabbing your entire thumb through while trying to put on the lids, which then sends Diet Dr. Pepper streaming down your front. Not that that has ever happened. Thank goodness the only people I invited to my unbirthday were related to me. They had to claim me, Diet Dr. Pepper stained socks and all.

Thursday Day Trip. The Picnic Club saddled up in Calpurnia and headed to Dallas to see Hugo. We were approached on our way into the theater by a guy who had lost his wallet, still managed to have a $50 gift card to the movie theater, needed to get to Fort Worth, so wanted to sell the card for $35 cash. Needless to say, we were all highly confused. It was one of those situations where you know you're supposed to say no, but you don't know why. So we said no. Then we said yes, verified the card did indeed have $50 on it (actually, $49), then saved $14. Holler! After the movie, we headed to the world's largest honky tonk in order to catch Wendell's line dancing lesson. We learned the mockingbird, which is, in fact, a real song, not just a scene from Dumb and Dumber. We put everyone else on the floor to shame with our linedancing and pretzeling and I-learned-this-on-YouTubing.

Friday Farewells. Lunch at Stanleys, boot shopping (and eventually buying), unbelievably amazing Christmas gift exchanging, letters to missionaries writing, ZOTZ eating, wondering why I can't just be packed in your suitcase for Spain. And now, to cap it all off, packing. By the way, ZOTZ are super gross.

My New Friend

This whole semester, I've been fairly regular about getting up and going to the gym most mornings. I barely even know who I am anymore. But, with this new development has come a new friendship. Every morning, as I sleepily ambled back into my building, redfaced and short of breath, I saw the same maintenance man vacuuming the hallway. After about a week of this, being who I am, I started giving him little waves and shout outs each morning. At first, he responding as any black working male might to a pink engineering student female. (With hesitancy, if you haven't ever witnessed that situation before.) Gradually, though, he became more and more responsive and our morning ritual became established.

"Good morning!"

"How you doin'?"

"I'm good! How are you?

"Doin' alright. Take it easy."

And on Fridays, we'd exchange "have a good weekend"s. I looked forward to seeing him each morning, and I could tell he looked forward to seeing me, too.

Well, today I set off once again for the gym, but not at my usual time. I saw him in the lobby, we had our exchange, then I went off. When I returned, his vacuum was still there even though he was nowhere to be seen. I climbed the stairs to the second floor, rounded the corner, and there he was, walking down the hall!

"Hey! What is yo' name?"

"I'm Molly!"

"Well, I'm KC."

"Nice to meet you, KC."

"Yeah, if you ever need anything, you just let me know, alright?"

"I will! Thank you so much!"

Y'all, KC just made my week.

Garba!

Ever since watching the umpteenth Cheetah Girls movie, you know, the one where they go to an India where nothing bad ever happens and everything is clean and nice, I've been enthralled with Bollywood. Not to the point where I watch Bollywood movies and eat Indian food and all that jazz, but enough to jump around in my room every once in awhile and "twist the lightbulb" in an attempt to Bollywood dance and watch Billu Barber once on an airplane. So, when the opportunity came for me to join in on a huge Indian dance party, I naturally jumped at the chance.

Cue Garba this past Saturday. I have an awesome Indian friend who let me borrow the most beautiful Indian costume and helped me pin my scarfy thing that probably has an Indian name. Then I have another awesome Indian friend who gave me a bindi (head dot) to wear. When all were outfitted, we paraded over to the Student Center to join the party. There were beautiful Indian people everywhere. Seriously. Beautiful. I couldn't stop gawking at all of the gorgeous clothes and jewelry. Per usual, many pictures were taken before we headed into the ballroom. The format of Garba was threefold: first were the circle dances, where everyone that knew the steps danced around in a big circle, second were the stick dances, where you hit your special dancing sticks that have Indian names together, and third was the Bollywood dance, where everyone lets loose. I tried to jump into the circle dances every once and a while, when the steps were easy enough for me to pick up on. The sticks (called dandiya. Thanks, Wikipedia) were fun, too, and our group got to dance in a big circle together. And then, Bollywood. It was amazing. My tactic was to watch the most Indian looking people and try to imitate their feet, hand, and shoulder movements. Apparently, I wasn't too shabby, because at one point I was pushed into the middle of a circle of Indian guys, started doing my best trying to copy them, and they were all quite impressed. After making my exit, one even came up to me and said "Dat vas sooo good!" New calling? I think so.

Adventure Club

A friend and I have started an adventure club. We're still working out all of the details. like the name and such, but the basic premise is touring Protestant churches in Atlanta. Yuh, things just got real. Our first adventure was sort of a bust, seeing as the preacher yelled "BAM!" from the pulpit and nearly scared us half to death. Our second adventure, now that was an adventure.

We set out this past Sunday, eager and bright-eyed, and a little too early. We ended up at church with 30 or so minutes to spare before the service. So what do we do? Walk around like we own the place, of course. We decided against going in the bookstore - Red Flag. What kind of a church has a bookstore? - and instead walked through random hallways. The church had a lot of nook and cranny courtyards everywhere, and I liked to look out the windows at all the different foliage. Out one window, I saw what I thought was a turtle statue under a bench. Weird placement for a turtle statue, in my mind. I needed a second opinion.

"Wait...is that a real turtle?"

"Nn - YES. YES. It just moved. Did you see it move?"

"Let's go out there! Can we go out there?"

"Did you see it move?"

The door to the courtyard was unlocked, so of course we went in closer to check out this turtle situation. He started running as only turtles can run when we got close to him.

"Do you think he snaps? Can I pick him up? Or do you think he'll snap and bite me?"

"I wouldn't. You never know."

Ben turns and looks into the distance, pondering the implications of turtle bites.

Meanwhile, Molly clambers into the flower bed and snatches up the little booger.

"Hey...will you take a picture of me with this turtle?"

By now, I've forgiven the bookstore incident because this church had a live turtle hanging out in its courtyard. After placing the fellow back down in his monkey grass jungle, we haunted the halls some more until it was time to enter the sanctuary, which by this time was filling up with little old ladies with brooches and old men in bowties. A wave of belonging washed over our little adventure club. We even considered signing up for a portrait session for the church directory. Which was bittersweet, since our plan to adventure to multiple churches kind of dies if we find one we like. Never fear, though. I have a feeling we'll be able to keep the adventures alive.

When it All Became Worth It.

The culmination of too many sleepless nights and too much circular discussion and too great a level of stress was an amazing retreat this past weekend. The week before last, my fellow advisors and I read through hundreds upon hundreds of Emerging Leaders applications, narrowing the pool to hundreds of applicants whom we then invited for interviews. Tuesday and Wednesday of last week were the hundreds of interviews, hundreds of asking the same questions and generally hearing the same answers, hundreds of striving to look pleasant while dying on the inside because it's 11 o'clock and you still haven't eaten supper. Then came the discussions, the talking over of every single candidate, trying to decipher between those who would be a good fit for EL and those who would be a perfect fit for EL. And then came the decisions, anxiously waiting to hear back if the people we loved loved us, and once we did hear back, frantically trying to pull everything together for the retreat. But we did it, and we did it with smiles on our faces. And we have the neatest group of 41 freshmen this world has ever seen. I am so blessed to have been a part of this weekend - being a part of taking so many strangers and watching them grow into friends through the playing of silly games and telling of embarrassing stories and roasting of marshmallows and unification of alternately laughing at and scratching heads over ridiculous advisor antics.

Ever since, though, I've been paranoid that I'll forget the faces of my 41 new besties. So, when someone I didn't recognize waved in my general direction today, I gave him a big smile and waved back. Turns out he was waving to the person walking beside me. Good thing embarrassment was overshadowed by the relief that I wasn't actually supposed to know him.

And I'm partially caught up on sleep since I celebrated the sweet, sweet victory of winning the first SSA/MLD intramural sand volleyball game with 12+ uninterrupted hours of shut-eye.

Shedding What's Left of my Summer Skin

Well, I am in Atlanta. Got here on Tuesday. It's a long story. So here goes.

After my last day of work, I was supposed to have two weeks before moving back to ATL and starting my second semester at Tech. On the schedule for Monday was wisdom teeth extraction, then two/three days recovery, then a week and a half of pure, blissful, uninterrupted summer. Apparently it takes longer than two days for your cheeks to return to normal size and your jaw to open normal width and your gums to heal, putting me incapacitated on the couch for a good week. I didn't do much. And amidst my stupor I received an email from the faculty adviser for Emerging Leaders reminding us of our leadership retreat the next Wednesday. When my plans were to drive the 12 hours on Thursday. Thursday is after Wednesday. Cue change of plans. Now my two weeks of summer have been chopped from both ends, leaving me with Sunday and Monday. Two days. Cue speed packing.

Sunday was church and Don Juan's and some other stuff that I can't remember right now. Monday was oral surgeon appointment, Target run, lunch with Gran Jan plus mom, chunking the disk (frisbee), Sonic, packing, and the last Picnic Club shindig of the summer. I love my friends. They are da bomb. And that was the end of my summer.

Now it's time for a new semester. A new year. A new start. This year is going to look slightly different for me, and I am super pumped about all of the changes. First off, after giving sorority life my best shot, I decided that it was not for me and dropped at the end of last semester. No drama, it just wasn't my speed. Second, I applied, interviewed, and was selected as an Emerged, aka a sophomore adviser for Emerging Leaders, the Freshmen Leadership Organization that I was a part of last year. This is exciting. I cannot wait to love love love forty freshmen and help them assimilate into college life. I also cannot wait to roll with the other Emerged. Which brings me to my third point: friends. Last year, on the first night in my shoebox sized dorm room, alone because my roommate came with two boyfriends and moved in only part of her stuff before going back home for three or four more days, I locked the door at 9 probably and Facebook stalked my high school friends until midnight probably when I finally clambered into my bed and cried myself to sleep. Then I woke up the next morning and knew two people on campus. Then my parents left and I knew zero. This year, THIS YEAR, I spent my first day on campus with ten of Tech's finest, aka the Emerged, planning, learning, laughing, and altogether preparing for this year. Then I moved into my apartment, which is no huge space, but compared to my room last year it is the Taj Mahal. And I love it. And it is super adorable. And then, AND THEN, I had a friend over. We stayed up entirely too late catching up on each other's summers and drinking tea. He talked about his job, I talked about mine. He made fun of Texas, I shot him dirty looks. Around midnight thirty, one of my lovely roommates came over with load number one of her stuff, and we had our first apartment party, complete with Melba Snacks. Um, yes, I would say this year has the potential to be a bit better than last. My high school friends are irreplaceable, and will always be my besties, but praise the Lord that last semester and, by the looks of it so far, this semester, are adding to my friend coffers.

Since my mom and I are wonderwomen and unloaded all of my stuff from my car and my dad is superman and woke up early to be in Atlanta at a decent hour to unload the stuff from his car and help arrange the apartment all on Wednesday, we had today to play. And play we did. At the North Georgia Premium Outlets. I love outlet shopping. And now I've just about run out of steam, but before I crashed I wanted to get all of this out so that all you diligent readers know what's up. Then I put a really indie song lyric title, just for Madi, 'cause I know how indie you are.

The Birth of MEM

Today is the day of birth of three very important people in my life: Harry Potter, JK Rowling, and Madi Mackey. Once, Madi sent JK a birthday card explaining that they had the same birthday, but Scholastic just sent her a form letter back that said Ms. Rowling appreciated it although she had too much mail to answer personally. Or something like that. Ever since she told me that story, I've wanted to send someone fan mail. I haven't done it yet.

Anyway, in honor of Madi's birthday, here is a dream that I had in seventh or eighth grade about her. Usually I forget my dreams right after I wake up, but a few, like this one, stick with me.

The scene is Moore Middle School at after school pick-up time. The horseshoe parking lot by the band hall is packed with minivans, and everywhere middle schoolers are untucking their shirts and milling about. I am walking up the sidewalk, coming from the direction of the convenient store on the corner where all of the intimidating kids would walk after school to buy Gatorade, Lucas, and those chili pepper suckers that were shaped like corn. (Interjection: this in and of itself is odd, because I only walked across the street towards the convenient store once. I was with my carpool because the carpool mom was late that day and we didn't want to sit in the cafeteria like lame-o's until she got there per usual, so we tried the across the street method. Long story short, one of the scariest girls at Moore came up and asked us for money or something, and then we got in trouble by the carpool mom for not being on campus when she came to pick us up.) As I walk up the sidewalk towards the band hall, I hear the sound of tribal drums, and notice Dean-o Spimoni and Travis Farmer (two percussionists in the grade below us who we befriended and sat with at lunch since they had to eat with seventh graders as sixth graders, and we had no other lunch mates to speak of) playing the drums outside by a tree. And standing there, in a lime green, sequined tank top, was Madi - and she was dancing. One of those dances where you bend your elbows and move your shoulders up and down. (Oddities: Seventh Grade Madi did not wear tank tops. Seventh Grade Madi did not wear sequins. Seventh Grade Madi did not do shoulder dances outside the band hall.) Perhaps the oddest thing of all, and the thing that will stick with me forever, was the haircut. Madi had a Taylor McCaslin haircut. Helmet hair. Sort of like Coconut Head from Ned's Declassified School Survival Guide, or Scout from the To Kill A Mockingbird movie with Gregory Peck. (I have violated every rule of internet tact and decorum to bring you a visual, making myself an uber creeper.)

And there you have it. Happy birthday to my dear friend!

M&M Take Dallas

Brandon left a CD here when he went back to Auburn. Robert Earl Keen: Live in Austin, TX. Now, I will make no secret of the fact that I have previously turned up my nose at Mr. Keen's music. However, something prompted me to pop this CD into my car, and I've been rockin' out, Texas style, ever since. The song that has struck a chord in me recently talks about having "them goin' nowhere blues". Granted, I did go to Alabama for church camp, but other than that my travels this summer have been contained to Flint with the occasional jaunt to Dallas for a dress fitting, leaving me with a case of them goin' nowhere blues.

Cue a super indie/hipster road trip to thrift and antique stores in the Big D with one of my favorite gals. What an escape! We started at Curiosities, rummaging through old photographs, postcards, felt pennants, silverware, typewriters, marquee letters, you name it. The shop was so crammed that it took us near 2 hours to make the rounds. After that, we needed to replenish our energies, so we headed for the Twisted Root. Yum. This burger joint is delicious. Just ask Guy Fieri, because he's totally been there on Triple D. While we were there, we saw Madi's 4th grade crush and future husband on a double date. It was random. He avoided us and we avoided him. I think it was better for all of us that way. After lunch, we resumed putzing around Deep Ellum, then Oak Cliff (Bishop Arts District, not the sketchy gangster part), then West End. Groovy. What a perfect departure from the ordinary humdrum of routine life.

Later, I talked with some Pine Cove counselors, one being from Dallas, and he approved all of our (Madi's) store choices, saying "Well, you went to the right places". Way to go, girl. Thanks for planning our trip and wanting to shoot guns and driving on grassy medians to avoid wrecks and agreeing that Texas is the best and visualizing futures in Museum Tower.

Nerds will be Nerds

I have always considered myself a huge nerd - except for in middle school, when I held out hope against hope that I would somehow infiltrate the "in" crowd. I'll leave you to infer how that turned out...

With that, imagine my joy senior year of high school, finally connecting with the wittiest, most awkward group of nerds thinkable, planning themed potluck lunches every other Friday, dressing up accordingly, dubbing ourselves the "Picnic Club", and SingStarring on the weekends. It was heavenly. No matter what vague or obscure reference was spat out, one of us would understand and reply in turn. No matter what harebrained scheme was concocted, everyone who could would be there in costume. The Picnic Club became my family.

It was tough to scatter like we did, most everyone at different schools, many of us in different states. I know I'll never find a group quite so singular and close-knit. A group of mondo-nerds, who have the quirkiest fun doing nerdy things. Geocaching, for instance.

Last night was a night like any other. All of the in town Picnic Club came over to eat pizza and act like pirates, perhaps to pop in some SingStar later. Then, all of the sudden, geocaching was mentioned. Geo what? The GPS driven scavenger hunt was explained, and with one look around the table I could tell we all had the same idea. Tuesday Night Geocaching. So we downloaded the app and headed out to parking lot after parking lot, searching for the tiny film canisters that housed treasures beyond measure. After our first find, we decided to head back to home base for some flashlights and headlamps (we're nerds, remember?). We also did some human geocaching and recruited Trant to our outing. (Poor Trant must quake when my name pops up as an incoming call on his phone. Quake with excitement, that is, because he knows something amazing is about to happen!!!) And we set off, all over Tyler, lifting skirts, PNG-ing, geocaching. It was ludicrous, it was silly, it was nerdy, it was Picnic Club.

Adventures in Sushi

Last night was FLO Formal, as in Freshmen Leadership Organization Formal, as in five (or so) distinct clubs all clustered in the same vicinity but definitely segregated. Yeah, it might have been a little uncomfortable, but I always have fun any time I'm with Emerging Leaders peeps.

Probably the best part of the whole affair was going out to dinner beforehand. Where I met my new best friend. A small, Asian, man. This could only have happened to me.

We walk in the door of this sushi place, Ru Sans, to be greeted by a tiny Asian man jib-jabbering away. Finally, we understand that he's asking how many people are in our party, so we explain that we have a reservation. He looks at the list, gives us a little grief for being late, then asks how many. Ten - well, maybe twelve - no, probably ten - was our answer. He looks at me and shouts..."Ten!" hands are up in the air "Twelve!" hands grab my wrists "TEN!" hands grab my elbows "TWELVE!!!" hands grab my shoulders "Hahahahaha!"  walks away to fix our table. No joke. I stood there in a little bit of shock and a lot bit of laughter. We sit down, order, chat, get food, and I decide to take a picture for 365. He sees me and comes over to get me in the photo as well. Then, since I obviously cannot be expected to pass this opportunity up, I ask him to take a picture with me. This makes him very happy. We pose, and he mimes picking me up. Keep in mind that I am twice the size of this man. Ain't gon' happen. So he compromises to have me bend down to his level so we can put our arms around each other's shoulders. Then he pats me on the head. All returns to normal, we're eating and chatting amongst ourselves, and he comes back to check on the table. I make sure to tell him that the food is really good. He stands behind me and rubs my arms, saying "Velly good! Velly good!" At this point, I'm still trying to grasp that all of this is actually happening. It is. After dinner, upon leaving the restaurant, he was there to give all of us hugs goodbye. He gave out an excited exclamation when my turn came in the line, hugged me, rocked back and forth, then patted me on the head again. Of course this would happen to me.

And that is the story of how I gained powerful connections in the sushi world.

Best > Worst

Lemme tell you, Spring Break is probably one of the best and worst things to happen to a student.

Best: Spring Break means no school. It means going home, sleeping, eating Mexican food, baking without gluten, finishing that monstrosity of a book that's been taunting you many a homework filled night, watching rented movies, taking a Dallas day, eating Mexican food, sprawling on the couch and letting Food Network roll, road-tripping to Waco, buying sunglasses in Corsicana because you forgot to wear yours, doing distinctively Baylor things like taking pictures with Judge Baylor and tortilla tossing and eating Kitok's, watching one of your very best friends dance the night away at Drill Team Showcase, meeting your high-school friends' college friends at Andy's, trying on poufy white dress after poufy white dress, eating Mexican food twice in one day, meeting Phil Wickham, and eating frozen yogurt.

Worst: Spring Break means returning to homework, quizzes, and due dates. It means a little mockery of the summer that will still take 5 grueling weeks to arrive. And, the flight attendant didn't even give me the whole can of Diet Dr. Pepper. Chintzy airlines.

A Toast

Here's to late night Skype conversations with this girl that garner uproarious laughter, funny looks from passersby, spur of the moment friend-requesting, memories of the golden days, and an altogether darn good time. Stay golden, Ponyboy.

I Know the Meaning of These Nineteen Years*

*The title of this post is taken from Les Miserables song lyrics that have been stuck in my head all day. I don't know the meaning of life. Coincidentally, though, I have been alive for nineteen years. Which brings us to...

Today was my birthday. I woke up kind of dreading it. It was my first birthday away from home. I knew that my dad was planning to come to Atlanta and take me to see Beauty and the Beast at the Fantastic Fox Theater, but at the time I went to bed it was still up in the air as to whether or not his flight would be cancelled (pun always intended). Needless to say, not a great feeling to wake up with. Then I decided to make some tea and I spilled my entire electric tea kettle full of warming water on the ground. Oh boy. And because of the snowpocalypse I had no breakfast food in my room, forcing me to eat the top of a Chick-Fil-A bun instead. Then I read my Jesus Calling for January 13, 2011 and it was like Sarah Young knew I was going to be alone on my birthday for the very first time. She says, in God's perspective, "Thank Me for this day of life, recognizing that it is a precious, unrepeatable gift. Trust that I am with you each moment, whether you sense my presence or not." After reading that, I decided to thank God for my birthday each time I started internally whining. Can you believe my day got better? Because it sure did.

First of all, my morning classes were already cancelled, but I got an email announcing that my afternoon lab was cancelled as well. So, I watched two episodes of Friday Night Lights - Season One, my new TV obsession. I decided that I could marry Matt Seracen. Just might, if given the chance. Then the mass influx of Facebook "happy birthday!"s came. For the first time ever, I made it a point to individually thank everyone for the birthday wishes. It really made me realize how blessed with friends I am, even if this was the first time I'd heard from some of these people since middle school. Not to play favorites, but I was really impressed by the sentiments from Robert Goulet's wife, Vera. The mail at GaTech was finally up and running, so I was able to pick up a package which had been sitting there since finals week. Yes, it was from one of my best friends. And yes, it was an instrumental Whitney Houston CD. After some quality Big/Little study time my dad arrived! He came bearing gifts, even though I asked for nothing but Beauty and the Beast and Rose Festival. So, I opened my Hot Tamales, 8 gig flash drive, journal, and Bananagrams before getting ready for the evening. The Evening = Molly, Dad, Roomie, and Big all bundling up and braving the icy sidewalks to walk to dinner and then the Fox. May I say, stunning? gorgeous? unbelievable? And I'm not just talking about the girls, har har har. The Fox was breathtaking. And the show was such fun. And I would say more but I'm saving it for a time when I'm not blogging 'til my eyelids droop shut. (Jonathan Toomey, anyone?)

Long story short, birthday was made great by the plethora of simple pleasures gracing every turn.

In other, yet related, news, I've decided to start a Project 365! One picture a day for a whole entire year. Being my birthday, today is the first day, but forgive me for not uploading and editing the picture yet.