An Affair to Remember

Around this time last year, colleges and universities from all around the country began the courting process. They tried to win me over through letters and e-mails telling me how "special and unique" I am. They claimed that they wanted to be a part of my life that I would treasure in the years to come. Basically, it was all a bunch of "b.s."

Those once endearing letters in the mail began to be a nuisance- a real pain in the you-know-what. Don't even get me started about the e-mails. No matter where they came from, they all had the same thing to say just in different words. Maybe I was playing hard to get, but I was not interested in being told of my "uniqueness" if the colleges didn't have anything to give back. Is that so wrong?

I got to the point where I'd just look at the envelope and toss it into the garbage. It was kind of fun , to be honest. UGA. Trash. Tech. Trash. University of Ohio. Trash. I could go on and on. But one day, something unexpected happened. An untouched envelope laid in a stack of dejected "junk" mail that would never be opened. Just as I was about to throw it away, I noticed the address read Boston, MA. Curiosity got the better of me. Skeptically, I tore the envelope. Hesitantly, I read the contents expecting the same-old same-old. Boy was I surprised.

People Watching Clubs, lobster dinners, and a Quidditch team to top it off. How could I not be in love? The spark was there. Boston University and I had immediate chemistry. Over the weeks and moths that followed, I eagerly pursued after BU. I had to know more. It made me giddy and nervous to think that I might have found something I could see myself committing to in such a huge way. My first meeting left me with butterflies and a case of cold feet. Maybe I wasn't ready for this after all. But, as they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder, and I began to pine for Boston, so much so I dragged my mom and grandmother up there in the record setting rain during March. It was cold. It was wet. I LOVED it.

The city held such a charm over me like I had never known. Big city life, clean atmosphere. I must have seemed like I knew what I was doing because my first night there a Harvard Med student asked me for directions on the subway. Coincidence or fate? There wasn't that overwhelming, touristy sense of awe and excitement that I had felt the first time I visited New York City. It felt it natural. It felt like home.

Now the application process is upon me. I know in my heart where I'd like to be, but Boston and I may be no more than star-crossed lovers. Regardless of what happens, it was an affair to remember.

As The World Turns...I Sit and Think.

hey <- courtesy of kristen (not in it's original form)

i'm not quite sure what to put here at the moment so i'm going to pull a faulkner and give this stream of consciousness a try. my version, that is. inverted sentence. walrus. that was the first thing to come to mind. pickle. scratch-and-sniff pickle sticker. unicorns without horns. purple. blurp.

now, it is kritsten's turn to implant an idea into my mind. i believe this is called "inception."

kristen says: "i'm the one. i'm the one who wears the pants."
i think: "i'm the one. i'm the one who does the dance."

kristen says: "birds can fly so high and they can 'crap' upon your head..."
i think: "middle school."

kristen says: "i'm likin' this. your's is 10 times better than mine right now."
i think: "that's what she said. no. duh. mine is better."

colby wants a turn. go, colby. now.

colby says: "flippin' fish head."
i think: "flap jack."

colby says: "..." colby doesn't say anything because she is now distracted by vee's input on last night's episode of "secret life." go figure. fake teen pregnancy is like sooo totally interesting.

ugh. i wish i hadn't eaten so much food in french last period. i hate how i have to be a fatty and eat everyone's food so their feelings don't get hurt. like that muffin i had to take with me. i think i might barf. for real.

british accents ahh the most fun to speak in. at least at the moment.

It's Just Going to be One of Those Days

Mondays. 

Let me start out by saying, "Ew." I cringe at the word and everything it implies. No more weekend. School. Waking up. The list could go on and on and on...

This Monday happened to be exceptionally awful, though. It's a sign that you're day is pretty much shot when you wake up from a bad dream. Now, on a school night, six hours of sleep is a generous plenty, but trying to start your week out on that is not the best idea ever. You might as well crawl back in bed and cover up because the day isn't even worth it. I'm not a morning person in any possible way. I'll just go ahead and throw that out there. So, when I am relieved to have my alarm blasting out my eardrums at 6:30 in the morning, you might say that that night's sleep was anything but restful-a perfect way to set the tone for the day.

I got dressed and came downstairs to World War III in the kitchen. My brother couldn't find his Sunshine polos, so naturally, my mom and he were yelling back and forth. Walking down the stairs, I had noticed two abandoned shirts laying by the front door, but no one believed me. My puppy, Bella, was barking frantically because she had to go to the bathroom. In the meantime, my other brother was pacing around looking for his belt. To try and help, I grabbed the dog, who had finally peed in her crate, took her to her play pen, informed everyone of the mess, and retrieved the "missing" polos. Voila! One problem solved. Somewhere, in between the shirts and me trying to get a bite to eat, Bella had decided her bladder wasn't quite empty. She began pooping on the floor which led to more screaming. I stopped in the middle of fixing breakfast and volunteered to go take her outside to walk so my mom could make lunches. Outside, the grass was wet with morning dew, and my feet were sliding everywhere. With Bella having finished her business, I hurried back inside because I thought someone was honking my car horn. Not the case. Instead, Chancellor had still not found his belt and was calling my dad to try and see if he'd left it in the car. Dad was too busy to look. Go figure. By this time, my mom had just about lost all patience, and I was right behind her. My appetite was gone, and I was just ready to get out the door. Apparently, "I'm not hungry anymore" means "Go ahead and fix me some breakfast, I'm starving" in mom language. So, when my mom handed me a slice of banana bread I had just said I didn't want, I refused to eat it. That was the last straw and, in hindsight, not the best move for me to make. Before I could take back what I had said, I was now the target of all of the screaming. How did I remedy that? I left. I left Chancellor looking for his belt. I left Bella barking. I left the wrath of my mother, and I took John, who now had his proper uniform attire, with me. Bad idea.

As I mentioned somewhere before, I am not a morning person. Because of this, I was huffing and puffing as I drove to school. I'll admit I was probably on the edge of committing some road-rage induced felony. Thankfully, a generous school bus driver sensed my unease and allowed me to make my  left turn instead of waiting 15 or so minutes for the oncoming traffic to pass by. Bless you, mystery driver. However, the ride to school was not over. Of course there had to be some random car broken down in the middle of the street. That always happens on terrible Mondays. After several trials, I finally pulled into the high school  parking lot sans one brother around 8:10. It was a small miracle that I wasn't late after all of that mess.

The school day brought it's ups and downs. A ton of AP Lit homework, an AP Calculus quiz, a crummy chemistry grade, and one major headache later, I  made it home only to find out I was grounded for the rest of the week. Just the icing on the cake.

Hi. My name is Liv, and I am a procrastinator.

It's not a problem. I swear I can change anytime I want. 

But wait...I've been here before. It's some obscene hour in the morning. I've waited until the last minute. What else is new? The fact that last time was definitely going to be my last? Or was it the time before that? I lose count.

The point is I am an extremely unmotivated, driven person. Did you like that oxymoron I threw in there? Seriously, though, I haven't quite figured out why I keep doing this to myself time and time again. Maybe there's some perk to being stressed and sleep deprived that I'm unconsciously aware of. I don't know.

What I am certain of is the fact that I need to make some serious adjustments in my work schedule. Yeah. This time is definitely the last.