Mish-mash

1. So I desperately want to finish up my 100 Favorite Things. However, a lot of that involves dragging out the camera to take pictures, and y'all know I'm really lazy. I need to start just taking pictures of everything so I always have a stash, eh?

2. I am recognizing more and more that I have control issues. As in, I prefer greatly when things go my way. I feel like this has developed over time, because I don't remember feeling this way even up til a few years ago. But the main thing is that I've developed control issues over the cleanliness of my apartment. Is that weird? Any tips on dealing with that because sometimes I feel like Francine in that episode of Arthur when she gets so angry that her head just blows off and flies into outer space? Anyone? Couldn't find a visual aid, but I bet the episode is up there on Youtube ... now if only I could remember which one it is.

But I don't want that to happen, even metaphorically. Any tips on how not to lose your head over a dirty apartment??

3. Twitter is only slightly taking over my life. I follow so many people that there is always a constant number of updates! I need to close the tab on my internet browser and only check it periodically. Otherwise I'm constantly looking at it!

4. Thanksgiving break is SO CLOSE. Shout out to my New Orleans homies, yo.

Thanks, Shelby, I stole this from your Facebook. And thanks, Hannah, for so many Thanksgiving memories. All I had to say then, and all I still have to say now is - there are so many arms in this picture!

I can't wait to eat lots of side dishes and pies (because those are my fave parts of the meal) and watch copious amounts of Bravo and read for pleasure! Oh man, I love breaks.

I am moving to Singapore ...

... not really. But if everything else fails (no grad school, no job, no husband [not that I would get one in the next year but whatever]), I will.

Because chewing gum in Singapore is ILLEGAL.

Hallelujah!

See - no joke. Singapore does it right, yo.

I like...

I like apples and peanut butter.
I like chocolate chips and peanut butter.
I guess peanut butter's OK, too.
I like gchat.
I like daydreaming about the future.
I like living in the moment.
I like black coffee.
I like jeggings.
I like to-do lists (and crossing things off!).
I like removing the lint from the dryer.
I like laughing.
I like blogging.
I like you!

I have a lot to do (not to out-busy anyone, but hey, I am a little concerned about my workload this week) and yet I decided to post to you lovelies instead. Because that is how stoopid I am.

OK. I am scared. Just putting it out there. I'm scared of the future. I'm scared of tomorrow and a year from now. I'm scared that I'm not good enough, that I'm not smart enough, that I'm too shy, that I cry too easily. I'm scared that I don't know what I want, and if I ever figure it out that I won't get it. I'm scared that I will want the wrong things, if that's even possible. I'm scared that I'll waste potential.

I am SCARED of the Tickler, but who isn't?

But you know, the Tickler can come and touch my leg and that would be terrifying but it doesn't help the fact that I'm scared about more important things, ya know?

I'm scared that I won't cross the things off on my life list. Of which there are like three things, but they're all very important.

I'm scared that no one is reading this. But this is really just for me, anyway.

I'm scared that I'm not a good friend. They do a lot for me, but I'm scared that when they need me (which some of them do) that I'll be scared to tell them I'm here and I'll listen.

I'm scared. But I know that I can do the hard stuff. I've just been slacking, which has got to stop RIGHT THIS INSTANT. Well, right after I finish this mocha, and put my laundry in the dryer.

I would end this with something cheesy but hasn't this been cheese enough? So anyway, this is a picture I found on my computer -- I look stupid but that is my kitty who I adore and whose leg is not going to be removed! Thank goodness, because I would love my three-legged cat but still, it would make me uncomfortable.

Love your cat, love yourself. - Anonymous

I don't know if that's a real quote or not, but I'm going with it here. Peace.

Tonight, I went out to eat thai (holy yum!) with a huge group of people - some I'm good friends with and some I used to be good friends with and have simply drifted from. Anyway that was interesting and I'll get to that in a moment.

But the crux of this story is that in the car ride back, one of the girls said: "Can you believe tomorrow we're going to Proclamation Night as seniors??"

To which I said something to the effect of "Oh my goodness I don't want to think about it."

For those who don't know, Proclamation Night is a tradition for both the freshmen and senior girls. As freshmen, you go, wear white sundresses, write a letter to yourself, sign the honor code, yada yada. Seniors wear their graduation robes (!) and read the letters they wrote to themselves. And everyone sits through a ceremony where the dean speaks, one girl reads her letter, yada yada. Our full is just full of traditions, ain't it?

Anyway, whenever things like this are brought up, I feel like the automatic response is - "Wow, it seems like just yesterday."

But, like Carrie Bradshaw, I got to thinking ... and it really doesn't. Proclamation Night the first time around was THREE years ago. Sure, sophomore year doesn't seem that crazy long ago (probably because I broke up my college years with a semester abroad) but freshmen year, the days of living in first-floor Moore and going to Core class, is long gone. Seems like a lifetime ago.

And I have changed so so much since then. I mean, don't even get me started on my improved fashion sense, I mean c'mon. (I must learn some more modesty, eh?) But I feel like I have. Sometimes, in all honesty, I wonder if I've changed for the better. I feel like 9th grade me would dislike the senior-year-of-college me. I mean, 9th grade Elizabeth would probably see the sorority letters, and the "Richmond" accessories (yes the Jack Rogers and the Longchamps - I truly love them yet could I be a bigger sell-out, eh?) Also, 9th grade me would start lecturing current me on the dangers of binge-drinking ... jeez who is right here?!?

But although I have FINALLY perfected the art of flatironing my hair and actually started talking to boys, I think on the inside I am pretty much the same. Well, maybe this is getting too deep for a blog post, so I may come back to this later. But ya know, I still crack up laughing (when I'm sitting by myself in the library - how sad) about a Scrubs reference or the like. On the inside, I'm still somewhat of a loser so past Elizabeth, take heart.

OK well maybe this post will turn into a two-fer. Because unlike cardigans, well actually like cardigans, this is serious and one most devote serious time to it. But let me leave you with some pics:

OK, check out the hottieeeee. I kid. Look at me, I'm 18 and so proud of my straight hair.

And this is me now (OK, well end of summer but most recent solo picture of moi). I'm dressed as a cavewoman. What. The hell. Yes that is a dog bone in my hair and yes I was on my way to drunksville.

I'm not quite ready to read my letter tomorrow. We'll see how this goes. I will probably cry.

As if I needed further proof...

... that my life is clothes. Yep, that's pretty much it. I mean, minus thinking about what I'm going to eat next, I pretty much just think about clothes.

Last night I anxiously thought of the perfect dress-to-pin outfit that would work for today's forecast, which I of course consulted on weather.com.

And today I was bummed about wandering around X-Lot looking for a truck with Alaskan plates (there was a purpose to that, I swear) and having made the executive decision not to go to the new International Cafe on the off-chance that the rumors are false and that it is not open, and so I would have trudged quite aways for nothing ... when some woman who was probably in her mid-to-late 40s (but I cannot judge age for anything so for all I know she was 12) pointed at me and said, "That's a cute outfit!"

And then I danced happily because well, someone liked the outfit I had put so much thought into, so I have a purpose in life.

And then I went to the post office and my new J.Crew skirt had arrived and I was embarassed so I folded over the package so no one could see the logo.

And yes, I have already picked out my tentative outfit for tomorrow. Whadyagonnadoboutit?!

First day of school thoughts

I'm a senior?!?

I am one of three seniors in this class ... how weird.

Oh god, he's going to call my name soon, will anyone snicker when my last name is said??

I love new notebooks!

My apartment. Is so. Far away.

Yep, the Richmond dress-up-for-class stereotype lives on. (Was I exempt from this? Hell, of course not!)

Hmm, probably the only time all year the libs will be so empty.

Wait, I'm still a senior?

When will I ever go to the gym??!!

I hate walking outside to go to the laundry machines.

I feel so old, but since when have all the underclassmen boys been so cute!!

Yeah seniors, can I get a woop woop?