I'm Old(er)

Another birthday has come and gone, and I have to say that turning 22 is not nearly as exciting as turning 21. I mean, I didn't expect it to be, since all birthdays after a milestone year pale in comparison to the crazy celebrating that happened the year before. And 21 is pretty much the biggest milestone birthday in terms of celebrations (unless you buy into that "My Super Sweet Sixteen" crap).

Still, it was fun. My friends kindly drove me out to Wendy's at 11pm when I was craving a cheeseburger, and they made me a cake (that led to the accidental temporary loss of many frozen waffles). I played in an orchestra concert, saw my parents and my godparents, ate a delicious dinner, stole creamer from a fancy restaurant, ate cheesecake, and talked to my sister. A good birthday!

The real fun happened later that night after my parents left. Occasionally, without any logical explanation, people act in unusual and crazy ways. That was Sunday night, when I returned from Wegmans to find my three roommates and Brandi (who basically lives here) engaged in an epic battle with a plastic doll from Becca's Happy Meal. They were trying to dismember her (the doll, just to be clear), using brute strength, scissors, nail clippers, a hole punch, and a lighter.

We're really curious as to what, exactly, was in the cheesecake that my mom made.

Anyway, they managed to rip the doll apart and then tape it to the wall above our TV, using the mustache on the wall as the doll's new torso. Then I had the brilliant idea to bring all my neon paper down to the living room to create posters to explain our interior decorating to visitors (and possibly to ourselves, in case we lost our memories overnight).

Next to the doll, on bright pink paper, is written, "A Lesson in Perspective: Your life isn't that bad. You could be dismembered and taped to a wall."

It seems to be cheering us up already, although people are probably going to stop visiting us when they see how crazy we are.

We also now have a massive, multi-neon-colored quote wall, and we invented a game called "Find the Torso!"

I love crazy townhouse bonding nights!

The best part was probably when Wyatt, who had somehow avoided the craziness, walked downstairs, stopped in his tracks, stared at us for a few minutes (Becca had a loop of tape on her nose and a red "L" on her forehead and was threatening to kill me as I backed away to stand on the armchair in the corner) and just said, "You guys are completely insane - but in the best way possible, of course."

My thoughts exactly.

Some thoughts on Hallmark

Valentine's Day is just about over, and I've done a fantastic job being single and happy (albeit sick) all day long. I have wonderful friends, a fantastic family, a bright future full of endless possibilities - and I think I'm a pretty cool person, too. My Valentines were my fellow single ladies, and myself. And I'm very okay with that. Romance will come when it comes.

That being said, I still feel like taking a few minutes to rant about Hallmark's Valentine's commercials this year. There were two main TV commercials that I saw enough times to want to shoot their marketing department, so let's re-hash them, shall we?

The first is a lovely, early morning shot of peaceful, sleeping children. Their loving mother is creeping around the house placing bizarre stuffed animals with notes and treats at the play tea table, on the nightstand, etc. The voice-over tells us, "Mornings are not for making beds. Mornings are for telling them how much you love them."

So Hallmark is telling mothers that, if they make their kids make their beds in the morning (or, heaven forbid, other chores), their kids will know that Mommy dearest hates them. Even setting aside the blatant "Your kids won't know you love them unless you buy these hideous stuffed animals for them and then put more crap in said stuffed animals" plug, this is a ridiculous idea. Yes, I hated making my bed when I was younger. I hated all chores. I still hate most chores. (Okay, all chores.)

But doing the few chores I had to do taught me how to clean. They taught me how to be a responsible adult (something I'm still learning). Mom and Dad making me make my bed did show their love for me - it showed that they loved me enough to teach me what I needed to know to grow up and be a real person, someone who isn't a total slob, someone who knows how to do hospital corners and has some standards of cleanliness.

Thanks, Mom and Dad. I'll make my bed before you come visit me this weekend.

Hallmark's second commercial is actually kind of sweet, and definitely less ridiculous. We see couples of varying ages - 30-somethings at a hockey game, 20-somethings on a bench, and even what looked like a high school couple somewhere. This voice-over informs the American public that "Valentine's Day is not about saying 'I love you.' It's about saying 'I love us.'"

This is adorable, and probably true on some level. For people with significant others, Valentine's Day is like another anniversary (which is why you shouldn't get married in February), a day to really look at that person who seems to complete you and truly appreciate who you are together.

That being said, this is quite possibly the commercial that wins the prize for "Most Likely to Make Singles Want to Strangle Couples." Really, Hallmark? The hearts and flowers and chocolates and mushy cards weren't enough? You really have to remind us that, as single people, we don't have an "us"? I mean, I'm okay with just having a "me" and not an "us", but I don't want that lack of an "us" shoved into my face every time I sit down to watch Cake Boss during dinner.

Luckily, Valentine's Day is over, and those commercials should logically be taken off TV. I'm going to enjoy the flowers and chocolate my fantastic friends gave me, and focus on myself. One thing's for sure, though - I will not be buying myself, or anyone else, a card made by Hallmark anytime soon. Take that, Hallmark!

Next!

Go here, this kinda sums up my night: http://bentobjects.blogspot.com/2010/11/trumped.html

(Well, okay, so maybe I didn't actually tell him, but that's what it feels like. A little. And I just love this guy's work, so you should check it out.)

Clearly I need to go meet more people - specifically guys. Next!

In slightly unrelated news, I'm going to try to not blog after consuming multiple alcoholic beverages, as it seems to lead to depressing posts.

Not So Happy (Sorry)

I miss the feeling that someone wants me. I miss knowing that someone thinks his life is complete because I'm in it. I miss feeling sexy because that's how he sees me. I miss cuddling, fitting into the curves of his body as if I was born to be there. I miss the small quick kisses. I miss the longer, passionate kisses, loving each other as if we'll never stop.

I don't miss him, I just miss the idea of him. I don't want to miss even the idea of him. I want to be independent and sexy on my own, but it's tough in a world filled with movies and TV shows and music that revolves around the idea of finding your other half, how love is the most important thing in the world.

I'd like that idea a lot if I had someone to love.

So as I pine over various guys, I can't help but wonder if I actually want them - or if I just want the relationship, the cuddle-buddy, the lover.

I don't want to, but despite my feminist views I still kind of want to find my other half. Or my other quarter, or eighth, or sixteenth, or seven-hundredth. I want someone to share things with, to cuddle with, to make me feel beautiful and loved. And I want to make him feel beautiful and loved, too (I don't think I'm quite as selfish as I sound).

So where is he? It doesn't even have to be The One, but I'm really ready for someone to try to be a one.

Dear Motivation,

Where are you? You used to be such a good friend, showing up exactly when I needed you. Well, maybe not exactly, but at least you always came through at the end. We had such great times these last three and a half years at college, bonding during late night stress sessions, as you sat by me with a cup of coffee and cheered me on, convincing me that the hard work was worth it. You're the reason I've written so many great papers throughout my academic career. You even helped me pick a thesis, pushing me to stick with a bizarre and challenging topic, not letting me give up when even professors were skeptical and discouraging.

Why did you decide to take a vacation? I understand that you, like most beings, abhor this chilly winter weather, but you've always bundled up and stuck it out before with me. Why, in my last semester at college, did you decide to leave? Sure, you helped me pick a challenging yet awesome thesis topic, but you've abandoned me in my true time of need - when I need to actually get to work and write this thesis!

I understand that you're tired after years of late nights and cheerful adrenaline-pumping. I'm tired, too. All I'm asking for is a few more months. After that, I'll leave you alone for a whole year! (Probably.) Please come back. I miss you and I need you.

Love,
Sara

Senior Moments

This is my last semester at college. I think it's finally sunk in. Tonight my roommates and I were just hanging out, watching TV, painting our nails (my toenails are now blue!), and eating a disgusting amount of junk food (I may or may not have eaten most of a large bag of potato chips - with dip).

And I realized that I really felt like a senior - I'm putting off my homework even more than usual, the stress has magically disappeared, and I'm even occasionally drinking on school nights. Maybe it's not the best situation in the world, but I'm really content. Graduation is about 100 days away, and I'm ready to move on to the next chapter of my life - one where I won't always be reading old books and thinking about obscure theories and mules.

I'm also really starting to realize that I'm going to be leaving all my friends, especially if my plans work out. I'll be off in a city far away from here, so I'll get to visit old friends only a few times a year probably.

Crap, now I'm really depressed.

For now, I'm just going to focus on the present and enjoy every last moment of this part of my life: the people, the places, the weird inside jokes, the frustrations, the joys, the labeled days of the week with my roommates.

I'm going to focus on the little happy things, even if that means drinking a glass of wine while painting my toenails blue in the middle of winter. I'm content with that for now.

Future?!

Tonight, I submitted an application for an Americorps-type program for next year. It's the first thing I've done that actually might have some impact on life after graduation! Which is a really strange thought. I feel shockingly mature. And calm yet excited at the same time. Also, today I got the first email telling me all about commencement. I clicked on the link in the email and found out that there is a countdown - to the seconds (though I think that's slightly off). As of right now, there are only 101 days till I graduate! Whoa.

I also feel really really awake and energized now, like I want to take on the whole world because I can do anything right now, anything at all. And when I do that anything, I will do it fantastically, better than anyone else could ever do it. It'll be pretty epic.

(I really hope I get accepted into this program.)

The only real question now, other than waiting for a response, is what to do with this excess energy. Homework? That sounds way too boring and still. Exercise? The gym is closed and my roommates are going to bed, so sprinting up and down the stairs seems like an unkind idea. Clean my room? Unorthodox but definitely overdue. Too bad we don't have broomball tonight.

Sorry for yesterday's depressing post. I feel much better today (clearly). After all, everything happens for a reason, and everything that's meant to happen will happen in its own time.

Besides, the dental hygienist actually complimented the clean state of my teeth this morning. I think it was the first time I've ever avoided the "You really should floss more" lecture!