"This Is The year" or "I Never Understood A Single Word He Said, But I Helped Him Drink His Wine"

Yesterday = Best Day of my Life.

Let's continue. If you would like to move to the best part, please direct your attention to VI.

I. I went to class yesterday, despite all of the rain and the gloom, because I thought how much I preach about how important education is, and if you don't care about your education than you don't care about yourself, and that I've told stories of the children in Uganda walking 10 or 20 miles in horrible weather without even the guarantee that school will be there when they reach the end of the road, but they go anyway because school is what matters to them. And I thought that I had better count my blessings and enjoy the rain and enjoy being in college.

II. I painted palm trees and monkeys at church.

III. I received a glorious and beautiful phone call from Ira and Flossie, begging me to come over to their house today and visit because they missed me. They both said "I love you" many times on the phone, and had asked their mom if they could call me because they missed me so much. I don't think I've smiled that much since I first felt love.

IV. I cooked Thai coconut soup for the kids at Gribbin House [Lindsey, Lydia, and Alex] and although the recipe did not turn out as planned, the environment was delightful and sprung into still delicious soup and great conversation.

V. Went to a free wine tasting at 8, and although we were late and had quite the road trip getting there [we picked up Alonso on the way, my spiritual journey kindred], we met some very fascinating people and had even more great conversation and learned about wine and secret histories.

VI. After we got home, Lydia and I apparently forgot how a dishwasher works and added dish soap instead of dishwashing liquid. This provided a great I-Love-Lucy-Esque situation where bubbles covered the floor. However, after we opened the dishwasher to find it filled to the brim with bubbles, we decided the only appropriate thing to do was have a giant bubble fight in the kitchen, with loud music playing and singing along, dancing with brooms as we threw soapy rivers out the front door, and skating along in the bubble river that covered the kitchen. It was glorious.

VII. Then more soup, more good conversation, and a great night's sleep.

This is the year, kids. This is the year.

<3gen

"Semestre Tres Belle" or "Are We Growing Backwards With Time?"

This semester might just rock after all.

My Political Science class, which I dreaded as a "bill becomes a law" bore-fest where I would have to sit through all the 3-branch-flash-cards that my parents have been teaching me at the dinner table since I was two. But actually, our teacher not only implied but actually stated that he's going to assume that we took civics or government or poli sci in high school, or that if we are in his class we must know something about politics, so he's going to teach the class as if we know the basics. He says he wants to get into the nitty gritty stuff, all of the atypical situations. He said rather that going over what government's real job is, and what politics actually means, we're going to talk about what STOPS government from doing its job, what we think its job should or should not be, and rather than what politics IS, what politics DOES. I'm stoked.

Also, in my English class, we are reading My Antonia and As I Lay Dying. These are, hands down, two of the best books ever written. No argument. I actually said out loud to the Gods of Good Books that I really hoped we would read Faulkner in this class [in fact I would probably drop it if we weren't and find a class that was] and then wished that it would be As I Lay Dying. I love the book so much, but the last time I read it was for my Faulkner class that I hated and could not be motivated for, and the times I read it before that are now far away. I am so excited to read it already, and My Antonia changed my life in high school. Oh hooray.

My math class isn't even that bad. I feel much less intimidated the second time around, and my teacher is very a sweet, very young man from China and I sort of love him a ton. He's here for two years to teach math, and doesn't speak much English, but he's clearly very smart and very determined to do well, and just exudes an aura of kindness. I said "thank you" in Chinese to him [the only phrase I know besides "your cat is on fire", which I decided was a bad idea] and his eyes lit up. I'm going to have to ask James more things to say. I like living vicariously through James's experiences with China. I haven't been there, but I sure know a lot about it!

French also might not give me brain cancer. Our teacher is nice, and on the first day I was actually speaking pretty well and I think I have more of it stashed in my brain than I thought. Our teacher is also not a native speaker, and only took French for two semesters, but then spent 2 years [I think?] in France and learned that way. This I much prefer, and he has a very creative way of teaching. I actually understand almost everything he said yesterday, and it was all in French, so I guess that's a good sign.

The only class I have yet to go to is my final Blount seminar, which of course I'm not worried about. I could sneeze in class, color a picture, and write a poem and pass that class. It's with one of my favorite teachers, it's a class with complete creative freedom, and it's Blount. I hope I'm not jinxing it with all of this, but a Blount class simply can not dissapoint.

[knock on wood]

But that class isn't until 11 and I left my cell phone at home, so now I don't have anything to do until then. Well, post to blog: CHECK.

<3gen

p.s. Cooper almost has his perfect desk finished! It's so glorious!

"New And Clean" or "It Isn't Raining Rain You Know, It's Raining Violets"

I feel.....different.

I have kept my room clean ever since I moved in. It's been almost a month, and I don't think my room has ever been clean that long at one time- ever. I had a guy over to my apartment last night, and I showed him my room and I didn't have to joke about what color the carpet was or tell him to watch where he stepped. I was proud, even, of how nice it looked. I almost wanted to show him that all my clothes in my dresser were folded, open my file cabinet and show my alphabetized records, or even that my closet was organized. I didn't, but I could. I actually clean my room now about once or twice a day, right when I wake up and right before I go to bed.

In other different news, last night I was at a party before this whole scenario, and I actually didn't have to be connected to Lindsey the entire time. Actually, I have been to two camp parties before then [the Camp McDowell crew that I always attach myself to Lindsey when I'm around because I feel so left out most of the time] and I managed to hold my own. I know that's really nice for Lindsey, too, as I'm sure she notices that I never leave her side when we go out together. A few nights ago, too, I actually left a group of friends because I just sort of wanted to go home and hang out by myself. I know this sounds fairly normal, but for me I would never leave a group of friends to go home and be alone. The very thought was repulsive, as too much time alone at my house would inevitably result in tears, my belief that no one loved me and I have no friends, and listening to the Avett Brothers until I felt completely abandoned. But now? I love the time I have to myself, without obligation, without plans, just by myself. Tonight I left Lindsey's house and came home, made myself dinner [after desperately trying to defrost our frozen fridge], and sewed my new papasan chair cover. Now I'm listening to my girl Judy, and sitting all alone, and really loving it.

Is this being grown up?

Whatever it is, it's different.
Different is good.

<3gen

"Do You Still Want To Play In The Grass Outside? " or "The Age Where Friends Get Married"

I suppose I have finally reached the age where my friends are getting married. I have reached the early twenties where things like weddings, having babies, getting STD's, and buying car insurance are all possible. These have always been the sorts of things I read about and knew that grown-ups dealt with, being arrested, sent to prison, having drug problems, filing for bankruptcy. Is 21 really when these problems become real?

Not that getting married is a problem. It was a lovely ceremony, good food at the reception, country music and christian songs were playing. There were matching bridesmaid dresses, a chocolate fondue fountain, and even the Electric Slide. But I feel leaps and bounds behind this girl, who is a few months my junior and has only freshly reached the ripe old age of 21. Even the thought of myself being married seems ludicrous, and the idea of having money for a wedding, and buying a house, and getting onto someone else's health insurance. I am nowhere NEAR entertaining the possibility of these things, and it's hard to fathom that there are people my age who are.

I'm not entirely immature, I would say. I make my own money, I pay my own bills, I have a job and car and utilities and I do my own laundry. But many of these things still feel like far-off issues I'll deal with, they still seem on the other side of forever. I don't know what's keeping me in denial. My sister is two years away from graduating, something that I can't even deal with because I can't accept that she's not five years old anymore. My parents are thinking about moving, my cat of 15 years just died, I have a loan and a credit card to pay off and my best friend from 6th grade just got married. Why do I still feel like a kid wearing a grown-up costume?

It probably has something to do with the Hello Kitty toaster in my kitchen, the My Little Pony Snowcone machine in my closet, and the 12 Dora the Explorere episodes on my computer.

Whatever.

<3gen

"August In Alabama" or "Poetry Is Dead In This Town, And So Are The Rest Of Us"

It is August in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and this is the time of year where you begin to believe that winter never existed. You begin to doubt seasons at all, that maybe the earth doesn't turn anymore because you're so busy being so HOT. It could have snowed two feet back in December, you still catch yourself saying "Winter this year was so short! We barely have winter here anymore! And fall? SPRING? Are you kidding? We have 2 days of anything below 80 and then here we were living inside a quesadilla."

Your body revolts. I believe there is an event horizon with temperature, that once you hit 100, it could be 101 or 112 and you stop feeling a difference. Your body becomes too busy trying to maintain basic cellular function and stops wasting energy on sending nerve impulses to your brain so that you can recognize a temperature gradient. It's too busy being pissed off. Your brain pictures the end of days, you contemplate death. You can see the steam rising off your skin when you walk outside, your glasses fog up, your breath starts to hang in your mouth because the moisture is so heavy outside you can't process oxygen fast enough. The sun hates you, it just plain hates you. You try putting on fewer clothes, when you know that you could be walking the campus streets naked and still feel like you were stuck inside a bath surrounded by fat Russians who just walked out of a pot of boiling water so they can steam off. You sweat in places you didn't know you sweat, your head pounds from the barrage of sunbeams pummeling your skull, everything starts to smell like asphalt.

This is August in Alabama.
I don't think winter ever existed.

"What People Eat on Shipwrecks" or "Is it Allright If I Organize The Fridge?"

Well the boxes are all inside, so I guess that qualifies as me being moved in. None of these boxes have been opened or unpacked, except the few that I looked through this morning in a frantic search for my cell phone charger which came up empty, but I'm still technically moved in. Cooper has put on the slipcover, organized our pantry, and done a load of laundry. Now that's what I call a roommate.

More importantly than all of my moving in and my newfound ease with which I can get of bed in the morning, is the most wonderful way that my family members have come through for me in a moment of need. As if I didn't already know that I have the best family in the world, my mom and dad [and Anna yesterday] have driven up here not once, but three times, and have bought me a meal each night. I know this seems like something pretty typical, but for me this is phenomenal. Getting a nice meal 3 nights in a row, and having my mom and dad tote up what felt like ENDLESS heavy furniture, and having them buy me things like shower curtains and energy-saving lightbulbs, while all ON TOP of the fact that they're helping me out financially, I just can't describe my gratitude. It's the sort of thanks that I won't be able to really express until I get my mom her own garden and my dad the kind of cable where he can't even PICK which sports channel to watch first. Oh, and TIVO. That man needs a TIVO.

In addition to my parents being the best parents a girl could dream of, my aunts, uncles, and grandparents have also come through and will be helping me with money this semester. I wish, once again, that there was a way to show my gratitude to each of them besides just saying it and sending a thank you card. But I just can't explain what this has done for me. The stress over money these last months/year have been overwhelming, and I always felt like I wasn't ready to be on my own like that yet. Not to mention the incredible guilt I felt for having to quit working at Target, only to realize that without that awful place I wasn't going to be able to afford the new apartment I was so excited for. And while all that fear was teeming, God was waiting to send me blessings out of every crack in my life.

Goodness gracious, thank you. I can't say that enough.
[Mom if you read this, feel free to relay to your wondrous sisters and parents. I sent them thanks in email, but it never hurts to repeat]

I am the luckiest girl in the whole wide world.


<3gen