Happy birthday to me:

By the way, Monday was my birthday.

23.

We had an orange food night.*

"Orange food nights" originated when I was in high school, and my best friend Britt and I would go to the 24 hour grocery store and stock our cart with our favorite junk foods, which all happened to be in the orange-yellow-beige color palette. We'd go home, put in a disc of Gilmore Girls and stuff our faces in true Gilmore style.

We'd savor the sickeningly cheesy flavors of Velveeta Shells & Cheese, french bread with nutella, Wheat Thins with cream cheese and orange soda. Often followed by some midnight cookie dough (more than once without baking any cookies).

This year we made a few fantastic additions: Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch and Garden Salsa SunChips.

A night with the girls is always worth the stomachache that inevitably follows.

*note: this is an exception to all of the food rules I profess in my life and all over this blog. But birthdays are the perfect occasion for breaking the rules.

image via

simplify

It's halfway through the school year and I'm just finally unpacking half the boxes I moved in with.

Figures.

But at least I'm doing it, right?

It feels so great to get rid of all the stuff I don't need.

To take a big box of clothes that don't fit/don't look good/I'm bored with/aren't my style to DI and say goodbye to them.

I always sleep better in a room that isn't full of junk.

I found my old pointe shoes and leotards while I was cleaning out our storage room and I was reminded of the many opportunities I've been blessed with over the years.*

I put the leotards and ballet skirt in the giveaway pile, for some future ballerina to find.

But I kept the pointe shoes.

Because they taught me that hard work means blisters and tired feet and sore muscles.

And doing the same routine over and over and over.

But it also means getting to show off, just a little bit, when the work really pays off.

*And that really made me want to take a jazz or ballet class. It's funny how I came to college all excited to leave jazz behind and move on to ballroom. And don't get me wrong, I really do love ballroom. But sometimes I miss the grand jetes and the pirouettes and the tour jetes that my arms and feet grew up with.

image via deviantart

Walk the World

This blog is not generally a forum for discussion, but today I feel like discussing just a little bit.

I read this interesting little article from Zen Habits.*

Lately, since I've been so busy and stressed, I've also been semi-addicted to Zen Habits. There are some things they say don't really work for my life right now, but there are a lot of really good insights about how to make life more simple and less stressful.

This section really stuck with me:

"Yes, it sometimes take longer to get places — maybe 20 minutes instead of 10-15, or 45 minutes instead of 25-30. But that’s OK, because cars (while faster) are also more stressful. Driving in traffic is stressful. So we go places slower, which is less stressful, more fun. I like a slower life."

I like a slower life, too.

I love the idea of living in a place where I can walk almost anywhere I need to go.

I love walking, and I really believe that you see the world differently by foot than you do by car.

Sometimes I don't even see the world if I'm driving. I zone out, which is not only dangerous, but takes the fun out of getting wherever I'm going.

Over the past year or so, I've really come to appreciate public transportation.

It's so convenient.

It's relatively inexpensive.

And it's great for people-watching.

What do you think about all this?

*Some of you know that I don't really like driving, but know that it's the stressful 15 minute drives that I'm not a huge fan of. I'm always up for a good road trip. But, who knows, maybe I can take a cross-country train trip. Or a cross-country bike trip like these friends of mine.

the shorter story

Some people like to go to haunted houses and watch scary movies and let their imaginations run wild to feel that thrill of utter horror and fright.

But I've never been like that.

I'm the one who watches sad movies when I'm happy.
And listens to rainy day music when it's bright and sunny.
And cries not only in movies but at the end of really good books.
Whose idea of a perfect Saturday morning is curling up in a blanket with a mug of hot cocoa and watching something like "The Way We Were."

Because there is something about that heartbreaking, purely human rush of delicious melancholy that gets me every time.

Would you believe me if I told you this was my homework?

Because it was.

For my advertising concepts class tomorrow, we are having a creative food potluck of sorts.

And this is what I'm bringing.

And if you were wondering, I did eat the bite out of the corner at 1am when I finished this baby.

Baking is my yoga.

*this photo, taken by myself (this is new...) proves several things:

1. I am a copywriter, not an art director, meaning the concept is great. The visual execution....well let's just say I'm not a perfectionist.

2. I actually do own a camera. And I just discovered that my laptop has a memory card slot thingy...well, look at that.

3. I make dang good brownies.