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Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
"Oh Sweet Jesus. They're Putting Me On the Jumbotron."
Monday, May 18, 2009 
10:24 pm Home.
Sooo... that was college. I can't believe that chapter of my life is over. I'm not really sure how to write this blog post because I cannot possibly sum up the past four years in one post. Maybe I'll just sum up this past weekend.
So, after a crazy Senior Week (see photos here), came Commencement Weekend. It started on Friday with the Champagne Reception. Mom and Dad drove up Friday afternoon, and Stephanie left work early for the event. Kaitlyn had her Pops concert that night, so she stayed home with Meme. Drinking unlimited champagne on BU's dollar was most enjoyable, and it was so great to mingle with my friends and their families. The weather was sunny and warm too, so we got lots of great pictures on the BU Beach.
After the Reception, the four of us went to dinner at Top of the Hub. We had a view of the river from our table, and the food was great, as always. After dinner, Mom and Dad went back to the Marriott, Steph went back to her dorm, and I went back to mine. I went out to J Tree with some friends - my last night out as a college student - and practically lost my voice over the music, which made me a very nervous soon-to-be commencement speaker.
The next morning Mom and Stephanie drove back to CT to get Kaitlyn ready for her prom, and Dad and I spent the day together. After we had packed some of my stuff into the car and sent Mom and Steph on their way, Dad and I walked to Eastern Standard for breakfast. We spent most of the day walking around BU and talking. It was really nice. For lunch, I introduced him to Qdoba. Then, we went on a Riverboat Cruise with my friends and their families. Of course, by then, the weather was starting to turn, so it was hard to see the Boston skyline, but it was still cool.
After the cruise, Dad went back to the hotel to do some work, and I went back to my dorm to try to sleep. I knew there was no way I was going to sleep that night, so it was good I fit a little sleepy time in while I could. For dinner, we met at Noodle Street, Dad's favorite restaurant, and then we walked around the Prudential Building.
We met Mom back at the hotel later that night, after she had seen Kaitlyn off to the prom. Stephanie stayed behind to drive Kaitlyn and Meme up to Boston eeeeaaarrrly Sunday morning. Mom and Dad gave me my first graduation present, and I broke down and started crying. I hadn't cried all day, but all of a sudden I felt this wave of sadness and appreciation and nausea and fear and happiness, and I just burst into tears.
That night, my friends and I hung out in Jess' room, finishing off the bottles of wine we otherwise would have had to throw away. Then I practiced my speech for the last time and made myself go to bed.
When I woke up at 6 am the next morning, I was seriously kicking myself for ever submitting that stupid speech. If I hadn't submitted it, I wouldn't have been chosen to give it, and then I could actually enjoy graduation, instead of freaking OUT. The title of this post was the text I sent my family after I did a walk-through of Agganis Arena with the COM staff on Friday afternoon, only to find out there would literally be thousands of people in the arena, and I would be projected over the Jumbotron. It really couldn't get any worse.
Mom had warned me to eat a good breakfast so I wouldn't pass out on stage, but I was so nervous, I just couldn't. Instead, I stood back-stage in my cap and gown, gulping air and trying not to crease the pages of my speech.
Walking into the arena with the faculty at the end of the procession was pretty cool. And I felt a little like a rockstar when I was seated on stage with all those important people. Plus, I was workin' that mortar board. When Dean Fiedler finally announced me, I walked to the podium, thinking "Don't trip! Don't trip!" and began my speech. Once I heard people laughing at the first line, I relaxed a little. I suddenly didn't feel nervous, I was just enjoying it.
Suddenly, I heard a little clink on the podium. I looked down and realized one of my earrings had fallen out. One of my $28 earrings from White&Black that I loved SO much because they went so well with my dress FELL OUT OF MY HEAD WHILE I WAS SPEAKING TO THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE.
And I'm going to be honest with you, my only thought when I realized what had happened was...
F*CK.
I seriously considered doing nothing and just continuing on with the speech, looking slightly embarrassed and awkward as I addressed the entire student body and their parents with only one earring in, but then I had another thought.
"Oh, hell no. There is no way I'm speaking to all these people with one freaking earring in. I did not come this far to look like a fool."
So, I laughed, took out the other earring, and rocked my speech.
After it was all over, I ran backstage to see all the people I work with in COM. They were so happy for me! And they thought the earring thing was great!
"You were so smooth," said Laura. "You just looked down, laughed, and slipped the other earring out. It was so great."
My boss Bryan thought the earring thing was the best part! "You're always classy, Tara," he said.
Then, for the rest of the day, people were so sweet. Complete strangers were complimenting me, telling me how much they loved the speech. It was a great feeling.
At first, I was pissed about the earring thing, but now, I'm honestly glad it happened. Stephen said that in some ways, it was the best part of the speech. When people cheered as I slipped out the other earring in front of a few thousand people, it felt pretty cool. It was cool to be that cool under pressure. Who knew an earring could do so much??
The rest of the day was a blur. I went to the all-university graduation where I was so close to Larry Bird and Steven Spielberg, and then I joined my whole family for a great dinner. It was the perfect day.
Today, reality is sinking in. I'm home now, and I love home, but I'm going to miss college. And in many ways, I'm so glad I can say that because there was a long time where I thought I would never be sorry to leave college. Spending every second of this last week with my friends is something I will never forget, and I'm so glad I met so many people who have changed my life. If I learned anything in college, it's that things get better.
I know I can't stay, but I don't want to go. PostSecret.com posted all of these "One Line Commencement Speeches," and as I was reading them last night, I just burst out into tears. I know it's going to be okay, but it's scary when you don't know what comes next. I know it's not entirely my fault, but I do kind of feel like a failure for not having a job yet. I'm trying to get over that, but it's hard when things don't go the way you imagined them.
Whether I like it or not, I've entered a new chapter of my life. I don't know how it will go, and I have no idea what happens next, but I'm going to keep trying to make things work. And I'm going to try to live by all the things I said in my speech. I've got a check for $2500 telling me I should keep practicing what I preach.
And, as always, a new life chapter means a new blog. I don't know what I'll name the new blog yet. I floated the idea of going from "Hot Child in the City" to "Jobless Loser at Home" to my family, and they all laughed... but they didn't disagree, so maybe I'll go with that...
I don't know who I am, or what happens next, but I know I'm not a Hot Child in the City anymore.
And that's okay.
I'm kind of excited to see what I'll become next.
While everyone's lost,
the battle is won
with all these things that I've done.
Love,
La Viajera
Friday, May 15, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
"Not My Style."
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
3:19 pm Just ate popcorn that's "best by" date was April 2008...
I'm starting to get anxious. About my speech. I keep coming up with these "what if" scenarios when I'm in the shower or at the gym or laying in bed at night, and they're scaring me. What if I trip? What if I talk too fast? What if I have a coughing fit in the middle of the speech? What if no one laughs? What if no one claps? What if???
My friends are worried for me too. Noelle told me she had a dream I tripped during graduation. "But you got back up, Girl!" she added when she saw my look of horror. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed the dream wasn't some kind of psychic premonition.
I try to only practice the speech once a day because a professor gave me the advice not to over-practice, but I still find myself running through the speech as I walk down the street. Today, on my way to the gym, I was running through the speech and trying to think of what I would do if I tripped walking up to the podium and then couldn't do my speech because I was so flustered. What would I do if I crashed and burned?
As soon as I thought of crashing and burning, I had another thought: "You won't. That's not your style."
And I immediately felt better.
Crashing and burning just isn't my style.
Love,
Tara
3:19 pm Just ate popcorn that's "best by" date was April 2008...
I'm starting to get anxious. About my speech. I keep coming up with these "what if" scenarios when I'm in the shower or at the gym or laying in bed at night, and they're scaring me. What if I trip? What if I talk too fast? What if I have a coughing fit in the middle of the speech? What if no one laughs? What if no one claps? What if???
My friends are worried for me too. Noelle told me she had a dream I tripped during graduation. "But you got back up, Girl!" she added when she saw my look of horror. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed the dream wasn't some kind of psychic premonition.
I try to only practice the speech once a day because a professor gave me the advice not to over-practice, but I still find myself running through the speech as I walk down the street. Today, on my way to the gym, I was running through the speech and trying to think of what I would do if I tripped walking up to the podium and then couldn't do my speech because I was so flustered. What would I do if I crashed and burned?
As soon as I thought of crashing and burning, I had another thought: "You won't. That's not your style."
And I immediately felt better.
Crashing and burning just isn't my style.
Love,
Tara
Monday, May 11, 2009
"Blog/Write"
Monday, May 11, 2009
12:48 pm And so the countdown begins...
Once again, I'm not sure what to blog about, but I told myself I'd take advantage of this week's free time by blogging every day, so I'm determined to do just that. I'm sitting in a booth in the dining hall at Warren Towers, watching the few people who are left on campus eating their salad bar salads and mystery lasagna. They don't even look hungry... they're just like me, trying to stuff their faces full of free food while they can.
Even though it's Senior Week, I'm trying to be productive. The nights are jam-packed, but while most seniors are spending their days sleeping off hangovers, I've got a to-do list to attend to. It goes a little something like this...
Everyday, the list contains the following:
- work out
- get dressed/do hair
- read for 30 min. (magazine or book... I alternate.)
- sun for 30 min. (don't want to be pasty at graduation...)
- tone (don't want to be flabby at graduation...)
- apply to one real job (don't want to be jobless at graduation...although I probably will be.)
- apply to one part-time/summer job (for until the real job comes along)
- contact one network person
- practice speech once (lately, my heart beat gets faster if anyone says anything that sounds like the word "speech." The other day a freshman was talking about grabbing a peach, and I almost knocked her over, I turned around so fast.)
- blog/write
- update budget
- pack for 30 min.
In addition to the above list, I have another To Do list of miscellaneous items I have to get done in the next week. Today's is:
- deposit check
- fix speech (just some tweaking...)
- write first letter (A few of my friends and I decided to write goodbye letters to each other. This has been on my list all week because I can't bring myself to start.)
- do exit loan counseling (It takes 45 minutes and there's a quiz at the end! But if I don't do it, they won't give me my diploma. I have a feeling this isn't the last time I'll be cursing my loans...)
- buy a clips binder (you know, for all those interviews I have lined up... ... ...)
- wipe down and vacuum room
There you go. Just a little more insight into my neuroses. Now I can check "blog/write" off my list.
What a rush.
Love,
Tara
12:48 pm And so the countdown begins...
Once again, I'm not sure what to blog about, but I told myself I'd take advantage of this week's free time by blogging every day, so I'm determined to do just that. I'm sitting in a booth in the dining hall at Warren Towers, watching the few people who are left on campus eating their salad bar salads and mystery lasagna. They don't even look hungry... they're just like me, trying to stuff their faces full of free food while they can.
Even though it's Senior Week, I'm trying to be productive. The nights are jam-packed, but while most seniors are spending their days sleeping off hangovers, I've got a to-do list to attend to. It goes a little something like this...
Everyday, the list contains the following:
- work out
- get dressed/do hair
- read for 30 min. (magazine or book... I alternate.)
- sun for 30 min. (don't want to be pasty at graduation...)
- tone (don't want to be flabby at graduation...)
- apply to one real job (don't want to be jobless at graduation...although I probably will be.)
- apply to one part-time/summer job (for until the real job comes along)
- contact one network person
- practice speech once (lately, my heart beat gets faster if anyone says anything that sounds like the word "speech." The other day a freshman was talking about grabbing a peach, and I almost knocked her over, I turned around so fast.)
- blog/write
- update budget
- pack for 30 min.
In addition to the above list, I have another To Do list of miscellaneous items I have to get done in the next week. Today's is:
- deposit check
- fix speech (just some tweaking...)
- write first letter (A few of my friends and I decided to write goodbye letters to each other. This has been on my list all week because I can't bring myself to start.)
- do exit loan counseling (It takes 45 minutes and there's a quiz at the end! But if I don't do it, they won't give me my diploma. I have a feeling this isn't the last time I'll be cursing my loans...)
- buy a clips binder (you know, for all those interviews I have lined up... ... ...)
- wipe down and vacuum room
There you go. Just a little more insight into my neuroses. Now I can check "blog/write" off my list.
What a rush.
Love,
Tara
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
"I Believe You Would Be Suspended."
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
10:34 pm Chocolate Almond Nougat Ben & Jerry's
Today I did a nine to fiver at COM Student Services. As I've grown older and advanced from young, wide-eyed, eager-to-please office assistant to older, senioritis-stricken senior office assistant, "working" in Student Services has involved less and less work. Sure, I'll file when I'm motivated. I'll answer a few phone calls. But these days, I mostly sit in the spinny chair at the window, look pretty, and flirt with the male student athletes who come by for advising.
Today was a little different. Having not been here last spring semester, I had forgotten how ridiculously CRAZY everyone gets this time of year. With graduation approaching and finals ending, suddenly people realize either 1.) they're not going to graduate or 2.) they won't be returning next semester. The title of this post is what I actually had to tell a student on the phone when he posed a "hypothetical" situation in which he failed several classes.
Luckily, there were no tears today, but I have made students cry before. I really do try to be as nice as possible... unless they're pissing me off. A few weeks ago this girl was frustrated with her life and decided to take it out on me. At one point, when I was trying to calmly explain her situation to her, she told me to, "Just give me the damn form." I'll let you imagine what happened next. Let's just say words were exchanged, and I haven't seen her since.
So, maybe I don't work super hard these days, but somebody's gotta man the window and answer the phone calls from hysterical students. Luckily, I can do all this while reading Cosmopolitan and picking out sports bras on VictoriasSecret.com.
Last night, we had a going-away dinner for all the COM employees. Our boss, Bryan, gave all the seniors awards. Mine?
Bryan: "Tara...you've gotta be the nicest bitchy girl I've ever met."
I choked up a little.
Love,
Tara
10:34 pm Chocolate Almond Nougat Ben & Jerry's
Today I did a nine to fiver at COM Student Services. As I've grown older and advanced from young, wide-eyed, eager-to-please office assistant to older, senioritis-stricken senior office assistant, "working" in Student Services has involved less and less work. Sure, I'll file when I'm motivated. I'll answer a few phone calls. But these days, I mostly sit in the spinny chair at the window, look pretty, and flirt with the male student athletes who come by for advising.
Today was a little different. Having not been here last spring semester, I had forgotten how ridiculously CRAZY everyone gets this time of year. With graduation approaching and finals ending, suddenly people realize either 1.) they're not going to graduate or 2.) they won't be returning next semester. The title of this post is what I actually had to tell a student on the phone when he posed a "hypothetical" situation in which he failed several classes.
Luckily, there were no tears today, but I have made students cry before. I really do try to be as nice as possible... unless they're pissing me off. A few weeks ago this girl was frustrated with her life and decided to take it out on me. At one point, when I was trying to calmly explain her situation to her, she told me to, "Just give me the damn form." I'll let you imagine what happened next. Let's just say words were exchanged, and I haven't seen her since.
So, maybe I don't work super hard these days, but somebody's gotta man the window and answer the phone calls from hysterical students. Luckily, I can do all this while reading Cosmopolitan and picking out sports bras on VictoriasSecret.com.
Last night, we had a going-away dinner for all the COM employees. Our boss, Bryan, gave all the seniors awards. Mine?
Bryan: "Tara...you've gotta be the nicest bitchy girl I've ever met."
I choked up a little.
Love,
Tara
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
"These Are a Few of My Favorite Things..."
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
11:33 am I'm sick!
Sooo, the day after my 22nd birthday I caught a cold (on top of my allergies), so now I'm laying in bed, trying to shake off the Nyquil. In honor of cinco de Mayo, here's a list of five of my favorite things, right now:
1.) "Hoping to Fall" by Storypeople
Leaning out as far as she can, hoping she'll fall soon, so she can stop worrying about whether it will happen or not.
For those who don't know, Storypeople makes these great drawings that accompany different quotes. I discovered them when I was younger at a gallery in Cape May and became obsessed. They have a saying for anything, and sometimes I just sit at my computer, clicking through quotes, when I want to procrastinate. I even get a daily quote sent to my email account. I have two of the drawings framed in my room: "Different Plans" (so relevant to my life right now) and "Presence of Mind", and I just found out they're coming out with little charms to put on a necklace or bracelet. If you haven't explored Storypeople before, you definitely should.
This blog post had me laughing for about an hour. It starts off a little slow, but it's hilarious in its entirety. I guarantee you'll be able to think of people for each category. I told Kaitlyn she fit into the "People Who Claim They Are Afraid of Clowns" category. Then she told me I fit into the "People Who Are Secret Hookers" category. BURN.
3.) This photo of Kaitlyn
Speaking of Kaitlyn... check out this dramatic photo of her sitting in front of Boston University's College of Fine Arts. When she came up two weekends ago to tour the school and spend the weekend with Stephanie and me, I made her pose in front of the CFA while I took a picture on my Blackberry. I told her to "look dramatically into the abyss." It scares me, because she would fit right in with the CFA kids.
4.) My new dresses
Before my birthday party on the night of the 2nd, Maria and I spent the day running in and out of stores in the Prudential Building and Copley Mall. With Senior Week rapidly approaching we needed outfits, and I had lots of birthday money I was dying to spend. The Cotton Sateen Tube Dress in Pearl Gray from Express is what I will be wearing to the COM Senior reception, while The Embellished Silk World Traveler Dress from Arden B. is for the Harbor Cruise. Stephanie and I are going shopping tomorrow so I can pick out a dress for the Senior Ball. The spendorphins are rushing already...
5.) The Complete Handbook of Novel Writing
Robbi sent me this book, and I've been making my way through it, trying to wrap my mind around the concept of writing a book. I think I'd like to try it, I just don't know how to start! So, this book has been helping me a little. Maybe one day when I have a job and my life is a little more stable I'll go to grad school for creative writing. Hmmm...
Love,
Tara
Friday, May 1, 2009
"Wake up!"
Friday, May 1, 2009
5:06 pm Free time??? Really???
I had the worst nightmare yesterday. I had this dream that I had to meet with this professor to go over my commencement speech. The day before I'm supposed to meet him, I get this email from him asking me to come earlier and to a different classroom. So I go to this classroom (I'm looking stunning, by the way), and I walk in and see all these older students, and I realize it's a graduate oral presentation class. I sit down off to the side, and everyone's looking at me, wondering who I am. Then the professor says, "This is Tara, the undergraduate speaker for COM." And everyone claps. I smile. Then he says, "She's going to give us her speech, and we're going to critique her."
Oh. Sweet. Jesus.
I start to panic. I haven't read this speech in weeks! Slowly and shakily, I go to the front of the room and begin to give the speech. I'm sweating and my hands are shaking. Wake up, wake up. In the middle of it, the professor cuts me off, "Okay, slow down." I can feel myself getting hot, my face is red. Everyone's staring at me. I finish, and they critique me. "You're going too fast." "You need to enunciate." "Don't lose your energy." Oh, please wake up. And just when I think I'm about to wake up, the professor says, "Okay, do it again." I can feel myself sweating through my shirt, my hair sticking to my neck. I give the speech again, much better this time, but I still get critiqued. I feel my ears going red. Wake up!!! PLEASE!!! Finally, he lets me go. I grab my bag and run out of the classroom, down the hallway, and out of COM, flip-flops thwacking.
I stand outside in the sunlight, squinting up at the COM building.
Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.
But I never woke up.
It wasn't a dream.
It was just Thursday.
Love,
Tara
5:06 pm Free time??? Really???
I had the worst nightmare yesterday. I had this dream that I had to meet with this professor to go over my commencement speech. The day before I'm supposed to meet him, I get this email from him asking me to come earlier and to a different classroom. So I go to this classroom (I'm looking stunning, by the way), and I walk in and see all these older students, and I realize it's a graduate oral presentation class. I sit down off to the side, and everyone's looking at me, wondering who I am. Then the professor says, "This is Tara, the undergraduate speaker for COM." And everyone claps. I smile. Then he says, "She's going to give us her speech, and we're going to critique her."
Oh. Sweet. Jesus.
I start to panic. I haven't read this speech in weeks! Slowly and shakily, I go to the front of the room and begin to give the speech. I'm sweating and my hands are shaking. Wake up, wake up. In the middle of it, the professor cuts me off, "Okay, slow down." I can feel myself getting hot, my face is red. Everyone's staring at me. I finish, and they critique me. "You're going too fast." "You need to enunciate." "Don't lose your energy." Oh, please wake up. And just when I think I'm about to wake up, the professor says, "Okay, do it again." I can feel myself sweating through my shirt, my hair sticking to my neck. I give the speech again, much better this time, but I still get critiqued. I feel my ears going red. Wake up!!! PLEASE!!! Finally, he lets me go. I grab my bag and run out of the classroom, down the hallway, and out of COM, flip-flops thwacking.
I stand outside in the sunlight, squinting up at the COM building.
Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.
But I never woke up.
It wasn't a dream.
It was just Thursday.
Love,
Tara
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
"Messenger of Wisdom"
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
6:07 pm My allergies are killing me.
Well, today was my last day at my internship, and it was definitely bittersweet. I won't miss schlepping out to Watertown twice a week, but I will miss a lot of the people there. It was a fun job, overall, and I'll miss all the media contacts I had email relationships with, whose faces I will never see.
There's this path outside the magazine's building that runs along a narrow strip of the Charles River. I didn't know about it in January, when I started, but once the snow melted away it became my little short cut. I ran along it each morning on my way to work and each evening on my way to the bus, gulping in fresh air as I listened to my Ipod.
A couple weeks ago, the day I found out I didn't get a job I wanted, I was walking along the river to my bus when I saw this weird bird. I thought maybe it was a crane, but I didn't even know if they lived up here. All I could make out was its dark silhouette as it stood alone on a bank under a bridge.
I saw it again last Friday when I found out I was chosen as the commencement speaker for COM. I was sitting on a bench during my lunch break, on the phone, when I saw it pop its head out of the water. It didn't even look like it was swimming... it seemed to be just walking through the water, body completely submerged, its long neck bobbing under the water and then popping back up again. It cracked me up. I looked up cranes on Wikipedia and found that in Chinese culture they are considered messengers of wisdom. I liked that. But then I found out that adult cranes don't like to swim, which ruined my theory, but whatever.
I was looking for the not-crane when I left work today. It walked in the water next to me as I made my way down the path and up onto the bridge. When I got to the bridge, I paused for one last look at it, but I couldn't find it.
Then it stuck its head up again from the depths of the middle of the river, and I watched as it swam away, making ripples in the water.
Love,
Tara
6:07 pm My allergies are killing me.
Well, today was my last day at my internship, and it was definitely bittersweet. I won't miss schlepping out to Watertown twice a week, but I will miss a lot of the people there. It was a fun job, overall, and I'll miss all the media contacts I had email relationships with, whose faces I will never see.
There's this path outside the magazine's building that runs along a narrow strip of the Charles River. I didn't know about it in January, when I started, but once the snow melted away it became my little short cut. I ran along it each morning on my way to work and each evening on my way to the bus, gulping in fresh air as I listened to my Ipod.
A couple weeks ago, the day I found out I didn't get a job I wanted, I was walking along the river to my bus when I saw this weird bird. I thought maybe it was a crane, but I didn't even know if they lived up here. All I could make out was its dark silhouette as it stood alone on a bank under a bridge.
I saw it again last Friday when I found out I was chosen as the commencement speaker for COM. I was sitting on a bench during my lunch break, on the phone, when I saw it pop its head out of the water. It didn't even look like it was swimming... it seemed to be just walking through the water, body completely submerged, its long neck bobbing under the water and then popping back up again. It cracked me up. I looked up cranes on Wikipedia and found that in Chinese culture they are considered messengers of wisdom. I liked that. But then I found out that adult cranes don't like to swim, which ruined my theory, but whatever.
I was looking for the not-crane when I left work today. It walked in the water next to me as I made my way down the path and up onto the bridge. When I got to the bridge, I paused for one last look at it, but I couldn't find it.
Then it stuck its head up again from the depths of the middle of the river, and I watched as it swam away, making ripples in the water.
Love,
Tara
Thursday, April 23, 2009
"They always do."
Thursday, April 23, 2009
9:01 pm Ooooh the irony.
"Your blog made me cry. Also it's something to remember at this hard time. Even when it doesn't seem like things will work out. They always do. Love you"
Kaitlyn sent me this text yesterday after I got rejected from a job I really wanted. It's funny how I wrote that post about how things always work out, and then a day later I got shut down... yet again.
This morning, via text, Mom asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I texted back: "Here's my list: 1. A job. 2. A sense of purpose. 3. A reason to go on."
Not necessarily in that order.
I'm laughing at the irony, I really am. Hahahahaha. I'm sharing this action shot of me, depressed and watching tv in bed, to show you how funny I find it all.
I hate it when my wisdom comes back to bite me.
Love,
Tara
Sunday, April 19, 2009
"Well, She Did, And She Does, And She'll Do It Again"
Sunday, April 19, 2009
6:59 pm Still in bed. Don't judge me.
I don't knowwww what to blog aboutttt. I was in a really good mood (despite a hangover), and now I'm kind of blah. I don't know. Last night we celebrated Maria's birthday, and it was awesome. We had a ton of people over for pizza and cupcakes and beer pong, and then we went to The Tap in Fanueil where we danced and sang along to the live music. It was so fun, but when they played "Wonderwall" Maria teared up! And then I teared up. And Michelle teared up. And all of a sudden we were all hugging each other and singing along. It was the first time I've really gotten emotional thinking about the end of the school year and college and life as I know it.
I'm graduating in less than a month, and it's weird because things are starting to end. All of my final projects are due on April 30, and then I'm just... done. My internship will be wrapping up soon, as will my classes. I bought a graduation dress when I was home for Easter, and as much as I love shopping, it was weird. Sometimes I'll be walking down Comm. Ave, something I do every day, and I'll realize soon I won't be walking there every day anymore. I look at my friends and realize I won't see them all the time anymore either. We won't be able to run into each others' rooms when we finally wake up on a Saturday or Sunday morning to compare stories from the night before like we've done every weekend for the past four years.
I worked at the COM Accepted Students Open House yesterday, and I was remembering how four years ago, I was an accepted student attending that very open house, still not sure where I should go to school. By the time I left the Open House, I knew I wanted to go to BU. By talking to the students who were working at the Open House, I realized BU was the right school because I wanted to be like them. They were outgoing and smart and excited about their lives. That's how I wanted to be.
At the end of the day, there's a Student Panel where parents and prospective students can ask questions about anything from dining halls to classes to financial aid, whatever. I had been asked to be on the panel for the April 10 Open House, but I had my internship, so I couldn't go. I was bummed I wouldn't be able to do the Student Panel, because I have a very vivid memory of watching the student panel when I was a prospective student and thinking it was so cool. They didn't need me for this Open House's Student Panel, so I sat in the audience and watched a bunch of my friends do it. I was thinking back to how scared and nervous I had been about what my future held just four years ago when I realized how far I'd come. I was sitting in the front row with my boss, Bryan, the Manager of Student Services, and Micha, the Assistant Dean. Micha had once seemed so intimidating to me, and now, here I was, sitting with her, laughing and making fun of the people we knew on the panel. I had a real moment of "You've come a long way."
Now I'm sitting in my bed, still in my pajamas, watching reruns of "Jon and Kate, Plus 8." In a minute I'm going to make some dinner and then plan out the next two weeks of my life. Things are going to be crazy while I try to balance finishing my final projects and continuing to apply for jobs. But here's the thing: I don't feel stressed. For once. Shocker, right? I know. Of all the times to be freaking out in my life, this should probably be it, but I'm not. Because yesterday, working at the Open House and then seeing all of my closest friends dancing and singing together, I realized things work out. Everything worked out for me. It really makes me emotional to say that, but I couldn't be happier right now. When you realize that everything you've ever worried or stressed about turns out okay in the end, there isn't a better feeling. It's like you always hope things will turn out okay and brace yourself for when they don't.
But they did.
And they do.
And they will again.
Love,
Tara
6:59 pm Still in bed. Don't judge me.
I don't knowwww what to blog aboutttt. I was in a really good mood (despite a hangover), and now I'm kind of blah. I don't know. Last night we celebrated Maria's birthday, and it was awesome. We had a ton of people over for pizza and cupcakes and beer pong, and then we went to The Tap in Fanueil where we danced and sang along to the live music. It was so fun, but when they played "Wonderwall" Maria teared up! And then I teared up. And Michelle teared up. And all of a sudden we were all hugging each other and singing along. It was the first time I've really gotten emotional thinking about the end of the school year and college and life as I know it.
I'm graduating in less than a month, and it's weird because things are starting to end. All of my final projects are due on April 30, and then I'm just... done. My internship will be wrapping up soon, as will my classes. I bought a graduation dress when I was home for Easter, and as much as I love shopping, it was weird. Sometimes I'll be walking down Comm. Ave, something I do every day, and I'll realize soon I won't be walking there every day anymore. I look at my friends and realize I won't see them all the time anymore either. We won't be able to run into each others' rooms when we finally wake up on a Saturday or Sunday morning to compare stories from the night before like we've done every weekend for the past four years.
I worked at the COM Accepted Students Open House yesterday, and I was remembering how four years ago, I was an accepted student attending that very open house, still not sure where I should go to school. By the time I left the Open House, I knew I wanted to go to BU. By talking to the students who were working at the Open House, I realized BU was the right school because I wanted to be like them. They were outgoing and smart and excited about their lives. That's how I wanted to be.
At the end of the day, there's a Student Panel where parents and prospective students can ask questions about anything from dining halls to classes to financial aid, whatever. I had been asked to be on the panel for the April 10 Open House, but I had my internship, so I couldn't go. I was bummed I wouldn't be able to do the Student Panel, because I have a very vivid memory of watching the student panel when I was a prospective student and thinking it was so cool. They didn't need me for this Open House's Student Panel, so I sat in the audience and watched a bunch of my friends do it. I was thinking back to how scared and nervous I had been about what my future held just four years ago when I realized how far I'd come. I was sitting in the front row with my boss, Bryan, the Manager of Student Services, and Micha, the Assistant Dean. Micha had once seemed so intimidating to me, and now, here I was, sitting with her, laughing and making fun of the people we knew on the panel. I had a real moment of "You've come a long way."
Now I'm sitting in my bed, still in my pajamas, watching reruns of "Jon and Kate, Plus 8." In a minute I'm going to make some dinner and then plan out the next two weeks of my life. Things are going to be crazy while I try to balance finishing my final projects and continuing to apply for jobs. But here's the thing: I don't feel stressed. For once. Shocker, right? I know. Of all the times to be freaking out in my life, this should probably be it, but I'm not. Because yesterday, working at the Open House and then seeing all of my closest friends dancing and singing together, I realized things work out. Everything worked out for me. It really makes me emotional to say that, but I couldn't be happier right now. When you realize that everything you've ever worried or stressed about turns out okay in the end, there isn't a better feeling. It's like you always hope things will turn out okay and brace yourself for when they don't.
But they did.
And they do.
And they will again.
Love,
Tara
Thursday, April 9, 2009
"You smell SO good!"
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Love,
Tara
4:13 pm :-)
There is only one word that can describe yesterday: luxurious. Yesterday, my aunt Robbi took me out for my surprise graduation present. The actual graduation is over a month away, so I could still really screw everything up and end up not graduating, but I didn't remind her of that. I took the early gift as a sign of her faith in me.
So, Grandma drove up for the day, and her and Robbi picked me up from Student Services. They came in and met everyone at the office, which was super cute. I had been told to dress in "dressy casual" attire, so I wore my new silky, green blouse from Express (about which Stephanie subtly commented later, during the show, "By the way, yous a ho."), and I spent some time with the curling iron, so my hair was pretty bangin'. I also wore the black, skinny jeans Robbi had bought me last time I visited her. I was good to go.
Robbi refused to tell me what my gift was, only revealing we were going to see "Neil" once we were in the car. Now, I need to back up a little and tell you that the night before, Robbi had written me a very strange email in which she requested that I not wear any kind of perfume because lately her tongue had been swelling up around people who wore perfume. Never one to question the mental stability of my family members, I obliged.
So, we arrive at a verrrry nice apartment building near the Christian Science Church. When the doorman said "Ooooh, you're going to see Neil," with a wink, I didn't know whether to be excited or a little scared. But when I stepped into Neil's apartment full of glass bottles and jars and finally figured out what was going on, it was like all my dreams came true. Neil creates custom fragrances -- he was going to make me my own perfume called... can you guess? Tara.
After asking me lots of questions and having me smell several different scents, he put together a custom blend that includes everything from vanilla to ocean musk to hyancinth to sandalwood. One of the questions he asked me was a kind of fill-in-the-blank: "If someone were to smell you wearing this perfume, you would want them to say, 'You smell..."
"SO GOOD!" I blurted out.
And believe me, I do. Neil made me two bottles of my signature scent, and he's sending me the body wash. One bottle is to keep on my dresser, and the other is for my purse, or so Neil thought. When Neil suggested it, Grandma jumped in and said, "No! Not your purse! She loses her purse..." Thank you, Grandma.
After my perfume was created, we all headed over to the Prudential for some shopping. I got a funky blue eyeliner from Sephora, and a tin of lip gloss that was the same kind that had been in my purse when everything was stolen in Madrid. Then we went to Godiva and got chocolate and perused the little flower stand in the food court, trying to find all the flowers whose fragrances we had just been sniffing at Neil's.
We briefly went to Chicco's for Grandma and Robbi, and when we left, we came upon a sunglasses kiosk. I started trying on pairs and found one Michael Kors pair particularly striking. I put them on, and the sunglasses guy told me I looked like a young Natalie Wood. SOLD.
I'm wearing the sunglasses now, as I write this. I'm not even kidding. You should see me.
After the shopping, we took a cab to Radius for dinner. We chose a restaurant in the financial district with the hope that Stephanie could join us. She did! We had a few drinks (I didn't even get carded!!!), and ate amazing food, and talked about the good old days. Robbi and Grandma filled us in on some of the craziness that went down before Stephanie and I were born, and then Robbi quizzed me on my last four years of college, asking things like "Best Date?" and "Best Girls' Night?"
After dinner, we took a cab to the Opera House and saw Dirty Dancing. It was amazing. The seats were great, and I was so impressed with the dancing. Everyone was just so...bendy. Remind me to do some stretches later...
After the show, tired and content, Stephanie took a cab back to her dorm, and Robbi and Grandma dropped me off at mine. It was a really great day, and I remember wishing every day could be that good.
Now, I'm off to eat some Easter candy Grandma gave me and pack for a long weekend at home.
And you can bet I'll be wearing my perfume and my sunglasses while I'm doing it...
Tara
Sunday, April 5, 2009
"Smooth Shootin', Junior"
Sunday, April 5, 2009
10:28 am Where do I begin?
Last night I attended "Epic Saturday Night" at the Roxy, New England's leading weekly gay dance event. And it was everything I dreamed it could be. A bunch of people from COM (and by "people" I mean real adults in their late 20s who have careers and real lives) hang out after work and on the weekends, and now that Mark and I are 21 we decided we wanted to join. Last night was quite an induction.
To be honest, I wasn't really looking forward to going. Maria, Brett, Brian and I went to J Tree to watch the UCONN game last night. If UCONN won, I was going to get at least second place in the pool, which was worth $50. If UCONN won and then UNC beat them, I was going to win it all. Read: $230. So, when UCONN lost I was not in a good mood. The only thing that cheered me up was being surrounded by lots of young men in UCONN jerseys. The thought of leaving that to be surrounded by uninterested, gay men did not appeal to me. Nevertheless, I left J Tree, ran home to change, and then ran to Mark's so we could go together. Yes, I actually ran that whole time.
I knew the night was going to be an interesting one when Mark and I decided to try out his roommate's breathalizer. Commonly used to prevent over-drinking, Mark and his roommates use it to see who can get the highest reading. This is what's about to graduate in a month and a half, America... So, Mark tries it out and gets like 0.04. Then I try and get like, 0.146! For the record, there is no way I was that high. I'd had two beers at J Tree, and was in the middle of a rum and coke at Mark's. We think because I sipped my drink and then did the breathalizer, I made the reading higher than it should be. I'm going to go with that...
So then Mark and I take a cab to Club Cafe to meet everyone, and as soon as we get out of the cab Mark realizes he left his phone in it. The cab had just pulled away, so Mark goes running after it, sprinting down Columbus Ave trying to flag down the cab. Just when Mark starts to give up, the cab takes a left turn and gets stopped at a light, and he was able to get his phone.
We go in to Club Cafe, a gay bar, and meet up with everyone. My boss Bryan, who is ridiculous sober, was hilarious with a few drinks in him. After a quick pregame sesh, we all walked over to the Roxy. On the way, a drag queen started walking with our group and left lipstick smudges all over the boys.
The Roxy was great! It was actually really nice to be able to dance like crazy and not get hit on! There was no line for the ladies room, and the bartender remembered me because I was one of like, five girls in the whole place. I ran into my friend, Ricky, and the whole night was just so fun.
Everything would have been perfect, had I not left my wallet in the cab on the way home at 3 in the morning. I woke up this morning and had a feeling something was wrong. I checked my phone - nope, I didn't drunk dial anyone I shouldn't have. I checked for my purse - yep, it was there. I checked inside my purse - keys, bank card, free condoms that Jen kept taking off the tables and handing to me, but nooooo wallet. Of-freaking-course. So, I tear my room apart looking for it, only to remember taking it out in the cab on the way home to give Mark money, and not exactly remembering if I ever put it back. Uuuughhhhh. Luckily, there was no money in it and my bank card and student ID were in my purse. The only important thing in it was my license, which I have to get renewed when I go home next weekend anyway. But still. So I call the cab service and they direct me to the Boston Police Department Carriage & Hackney Division (how much do you love that name???), which oversees all of the cabs in Boston and has one giant Lost & Found for all of the cab services. Obviously, they're not open on Sundays, but I filed a report online, and I'm hoping they have it. If they don't, someone else is going to be using my CVS card and has one extremely attractive license photo of me... NOT.
So, I'm bummed about the license thing and feeling like I should tell my mom, but a little nervous about the impending lecture. But, being the honest daughter that I am, I call home anyway. Here is a slightly condensed version of the conversation:
*Ring, Ring*
Stephanie (she's home for Zak's bday): Hello?
Me: Hey, what are you doing?
Stephanie: Nothing. What's up?
Me: Nothing. Can I talk to Mom?
Stephanie: Yes, but only if you tell me why you want to talk to her.
Me: I want to talk to her because I left my wallet in a cab last night.
Stephanie: (Gasp) Tara! She's going to be so mad at you!
Me: Well, there wasn't anything important in it! Just my license!
Stephanie: Okay, here she is.
Mom: Hi! There's a line outside the laundry room to talk to you!
Me: Aww. Wait, who? You and Steph?
Mom: Well, yeah. You only need two people to make a line.
Me: Sooo, last night was really fun, but I think I left my wallet in the cab...
Mom: Oh, Tara!
Me: Buttherewasn'tanythingimportantinitbecauseIdidn'thaveanymoneyinitand
mybankcardwasinmypursesoreallyit'sjustmylicenseIdon'thavebutIhavetogetthat
renewednextweekendanyway!
Mom: Okay, well that's lucky. Hold on a sec, your sister wants to talk to you.
Me: ...Okay.
Kaitlyn: Hi.
Me: Hey.
Kaitlyn: I just wanted to say, smooth shootin', Junior.
She's so supportive.
Love,
Tara
10:28 am Where do I begin?
Last night I attended "Epic Saturday Night" at the Roxy, New England's leading weekly gay dance event. And it was everything I dreamed it could be. A bunch of people from COM (and by "people" I mean real adults in their late 20s who have careers and real lives) hang out after work and on the weekends, and now that Mark and I are 21 we decided we wanted to join. Last night was quite an induction.
To be honest, I wasn't really looking forward to going. Maria, Brett, Brian and I went to J Tree to watch the UCONN game last night. If UCONN won, I was going to get at least second place in the pool, which was worth $50. If UCONN won and then UNC beat them, I was going to win it all. Read: $230. So, when UCONN lost I was not in a good mood. The only thing that cheered me up was being surrounded by lots of young men in UCONN jerseys. The thought of leaving that to be surrounded by uninterested, gay men did not appeal to me. Nevertheless, I left J Tree, ran home to change, and then ran to Mark's so we could go together. Yes, I actually ran that whole time.
I knew the night was going to be an interesting one when Mark and I decided to try out his roommate's breathalizer. Commonly used to prevent over-drinking, Mark and his roommates use it to see who can get the highest reading. This is what's about to graduate in a month and a half, America... So, Mark tries it out and gets like 0.04. Then I try and get like, 0.146! For the record, there is no way I was that high. I'd had two beers at J Tree, and was in the middle of a rum and coke at Mark's. We think because I sipped my drink and then did the breathalizer, I made the reading higher than it should be. I'm going to go with that...
So then Mark and I take a cab to Club Cafe to meet everyone, and as soon as we get out of the cab Mark realizes he left his phone in it. The cab had just pulled away, so Mark goes running after it, sprinting down Columbus Ave trying to flag down the cab. Just when Mark starts to give up, the cab takes a left turn and gets stopped at a light, and he was able to get his phone.
We go in to Club Cafe, a gay bar, and meet up with everyone. My boss Bryan, who is ridiculous sober, was hilarious with a few drinks in him. After a quick pregame sesh, we all walked over to the Roxy. On the way, a drag queen started walking with our group and left lipstick smudges all over the boys.
The Roxy was great! It was actually really nice to be able to dance like crazy and not get hit on! There was no line for the ladies room, and the bartender remembered me because I was one of like, five girls in the whole place. I ran into my friend, Ricky, and the whole night was just so fun.
Everything would have been perfect, had I not left my wallet in the cab on the way home at 3 in the morning. I woke up this morning and had a feeling something was wrong. I checked my phone - nope, I didn't drunk dial anyone I shouldn't have. I checked for my purse - yep, it was there. I checked inside my purse - keys, bank card, free condoms that Jen kept taking off the tables and handing to me, but nooooo wallet. Of-freaking-course. So, I tear my room apart looking for it, only to remember taking it out in the cab on the way home to give Mark money, and not exactly remembering if I ever put it back. Uuuughhhhh. Luckily, there was no money in it and my bank card and student ID were in my purse. The only important thing in it was my license, which I have to get renewed when I go home next weekend anyway. But still. So I call the cab service and they direct me to the Boston Police Department Carriage & Hackney Division (how much do you love that name???), which oversees all of the cabs in Boston and has one giant Lost & Found for all of the cab services. Obviously, they're not open on Sundays, but I filed a report online, and I'm hoping they have it. If they don't, someone else is going to be using my CVS card and has one extremely attractive license photo of me... NOT.
So, I'm bummed about the license thing and feeling like I should tell my mom, but a little nervous about the impending lecture. But, being the honest daughter that I am, I call home anyway. Here is a slightly condensed version of the conversation:
*Ring, Ring*
Stephanie (she's home for Zak's bday): Hello?
Me: Hey, what are you doing?
Stephanie: Nothing. What's up?
Me: Nothing. Can I talk to Mom?
Stephanie: Yes, but only if you tell me why you want to talk to her.
Me: I want to talk to her because I left my wallet in a cab last night.
Stephanie: (Gasp) Tara! She's going to be so mad at you!
Me: Well, there wasn't anything important in it! Just my license!
Stephanie: Okay, here she is.
Mom: Hi! There's a line outside the laundry room to talk to you!
Me: Aww. Wait, who? You and Steph?
Mom: Well, yeah. You only need two people to make a line.
Me: Sooo, last night was really fun, but I think I left my wallet in the cab...
Mom: Oh, Tara!
Me: Buttherewasn'tanythingimportantinitbecauseIdidn'thaveanymoneyinitand
mybankcardwasinmypursesoreallyit'sjustmylicenseIdon'thavebutIhavetogetthat
renewednextweekendanyway!
Mom: Okay, well that's lucky. Hold on a sec, your sister wants to talk to you.
Me: ...Okay.
Kaitlyn: Hi.
Me: Hey.
Kaitlyn: I just wanted to say, smooth shootin', Junior.
She's so supportive.
Love,
Tara
Thursday, April 2, 2009
"Ouch!"
Thursday, April 2, 2009
9:24 am Late.
I have some sad news. I took out my cartilage piercing. For good. (I can see my mother jumping up and down right now...)
I pierced my cartilage second semester of my freshman year at a Claire's boutique in Downtown Crossing. Maria stood by for moral support, and we got dinner in a sketchy food court after the ordeal was over. Ironically, I provided her with moral support that same year when she got a tattoo on her wrist. She's currently undergoing laser surgery to have it removed. We helped each other make some dumb decisions freshman year.
Anyway, I loved my piercing. If I could, I'd have at least 7 piercings, but I've had to face the truth - my body doesn't like when I shove precious metals into it. For example, shortly after I got my cartilage piercing it became infected. Crazy infected. Like ear swollen, running a fever, swollen glands infected. I refused to take the piercing out, even though my ear had swollen up around the earring, so it became embedded in my ear. A doctor at Student Health prescribed me antibiotics, which eventually cleared up the infection, but also caused a brutal yeast infection (too much information? DEAL.).
For the past three years, the piercing has been getting infected every other week, no matter how often I clean it. I haven't been able to sleep on my left side. Every morning I have to pop my earring out of where it's become embedded in my cartilage. I have a bump of scar tissue on the back of my ear where the earring stud sticks through. It's been a struggle.
So the other night, after I had cleaned my ear and the earring and was fighting to shove the earring back through my poor ear, I thought why? Why are you doing this to yourself? Blood was starting to drip as I stabbed myself in the ear, and I looked at myself in the mirror, my face contorted in pain, and I just stopped. I slowly put the earring down, grabbed a tissue for my ear, and stood there, looking at the bloody hole I had created in my cute little ear. I was done.
Now I have a scar on my ear and a lone diamond earring on my dresser -- two things (scars and diamonds) that last forever and will serve as a reminder of an important lesson...
There are things in life you'll want, and you'll fight and suffer to keep them, only to realize you're much happier without.
Love,
Tara
9:24 am Late.
I have some sad news. I took out my cartilage piercing. For good. (I can see my mother jumping up and down right now...)
I pierced my cartilage second semester of my freshman year at a Claire's boutique in Downtown Crossing. Maria stood by for moral support, and we got dinner in a sketchy food court after the ordeal was over. Ironically, I provided her with moral support that same year when she got a tattoo on her wrist. She's currently undergoing laser surgery to have it removed. We helped each other make some dumb decisions freshman year.
Anyway, I loved my piercing. If I could, I'd have at least 7 piercings, but I've had to face the truth - my body doesn't like when I shove precious metals into it. For example, shortly after I got my cartilage piercing it became infected. Crazy infected. Like ear swollen, running a fever, swollen glands infected. I refused to take the piercing out, even though my ear had swollen up around the earring, so it became embedded in my ear. A doctor at Student Health prescribed me antibiotics, which eventually cleared up the infection, but also caused a brutal yeast infection (too much information? DEAL.).
For the past three years, the piercing has been getting infected every other week, no matter how often I clean it. I haven't been able to sleep on my left side. Every morning I have to pop my earring out of where it's become embedded in my cartilage. I have a bump of scar tissue on the back of my ear where the earring stud sticks through. It's been a struggle.
So the other night, after I had cleaned my ear and the earring and was fighting to shove the earring back through my poor ear, I thought why? Why are you doing this to yourself? Blood was starting to drip as I stabbed myself in the ear, and I looked at myself in the mirror, my face contorted in pain, and I just stopped. I slowly put the earring down, grabbed a tissue for my ear, and stood there, looking at the bloody hole I had created in my cute little ear. I was done.
Now I have a scar on my ear and a lone diamond earring on my dresser -- two things (scars and diamonds) that last forever and will serve as a reminder of an important lesson...
There are things in life you'll want, and you'll fight and suffer to keep them, only to realize you're much happier without.
Love,
Tara
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
"Time isn't wasted, when you're getting wasted..."
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
7:53 pm My clean room
Today I remembered what it is like to have free time, and it is sooo nice. I didn't go into my internship, as I normally would on a Tuesday, because Micha asked me to speak to the BU accreditation committee as a representative of the College of Communication at this luncheon thing. Always a sucker for a free lunch, I agreed. So, all day, my only commitment was from noon to 1:30. The rest of the day I had all to myself, and I took full advantage.
First, I awoke around 9:30 am, after about 10 hours of sleep. I actually sat and ate a normal breakfast (cinnamon raisin bagel with cream cheese), instead of cramming a power bar down my throat as I ran out the door. I listened to music as I got dressed, and even had time to do my hair. Normally, I wear my hair straight because it's actually a less time consuming process than wearing it curly. I just wash, blow-dry, straighten, and it's "Hello, Perfect."
Wearing it curly is all about timing. First, I wash it. Then I squeeze out the excess water and comb it into a low bun. I do not towel dry because that just ruins everything. After I've gotten dressed and my hair has dried slightly, I shake it out and scrunch with mousse. Then, for the next 45 minutes, I check on it, scrunching occasionally and applying hair spray to different areas. This is tricky, too - if you over-spray, your hair comes out crunchy; if you under-spray, your hair comes out with limp waves. Once it's mostly air-dried, I put my blow-dryer on low and gently dry the rest of my hair. Today, after all this, I pulled it back from my face by popping a few bobby pins in and creating a party bump. See pics below for examples of the party bump.
A lot of girls save the party bump exclusively for parties, but I've turned it into an everyday style. In Madrid, my friend Melissa would predict whether we were going to have a good night or not literally based on whether I was wearing some sort of party bump. It's a big deal. (See how much free time I have?? I can't believe I just explained all that...)
After my hair was perfected, I walked to the luncheon, instead of sprinting down Comm. Ave to class like I usually do. The luncheon was fine, and after, I ran some errands in the Kenmore Square area. When I got back to my room I chatted online for a little, and then I went to the gym for a solid sweat sesh. After the gym, I cleaned my ridiculously messy room for the first time in like, a month, while watching "The Real Housewives of New York" reruns. After, Maria, Noelle, Sasha, and I walked over to Sunset Cantina for dinner. Over a giant plate of nachos, we discussed all of the exciting events that are coming up in April and May. Marathon Monday, Senior Week, Maria's birthday, and my birthday were discussed extensively. That was when someone quoted our new favorite song, "I Love College." Hence, the title of this post. Check out the video here. I think I've been to that party...
Now, I'm back, after taking a long, luxurious, hot shower. I've been crossing things off my checklist left and right. It's amazing what you can get done when you have time to do it. Tonight, I have plans to finish cleaning my room, and then I'm going to watching the new episode of "Real Housewives" and eat some S'mores icecream.
If only every day could be this good :)
Love,
Tara
Monday, March 30, 2009
"Bottoms Up"
Monday, March 30, 2009
7:48 pm Aaaaaah.
I know I haven't blogged in forever. This past week was rather stressful. First of all, I was deathly ill. I know, it's tragic. Last Monday I woke up in the middle of the night sweating and shaking and super nauseous. Then that illness transformed into a major head cold - I can't believe a little girl like me can produce that much mucus. I've found I always get sick right before allergy season. I think my body doesn't know what to do with itself so I just get sick. Good times.
Never one to complain (...) or let circumstances get me down (...) I pressed on through the week, going to work and my internship and classes and... job interviews! The thought of living in my parents' basement until I'm 30 kept me motivated to keep churning out job applications.
So, today I'm treating myself. I had another great interview today, and even if I don't get the job, at least I'm making moves. After my interview and work in COM I came home and ate Ben & Jerry's S'mores icecream and I didn't go to kickboxing. Then I laid in bed and didn't clean my messy room. I've just been laying here, watching Golden Girls reruns for hours, and it's been awesome.
I always get super nervous before interviews. I try not to, but I think it's the worst part of the application process. Last night I was up until 2 in the morning putting together portfolios and laying out my outfit and making sure everything was perfect. I find dancing around to really loud music helps me shake the nerves, so this morning as I put on my make up and straightened my hair I listed to Bottoms Up. I heard it at my friend Melissa's party this weekend (so many BC boys!), and now I'm a little obsessed. There's nothing like a little head bobbing and singing into a hairspray bottle to make you feel a little better.
Miss Tara G, lookin' extra glossy...
Love,
Tara
7:48 pm Aaaaaah.
I know I haven't blogged in forever. This past week was rather stressful. First of all, I was deathly ill. I know, it's tragic. Last Monday I woke up in the middle of the night sweating and shaking and super nauseous. Then that illness transformed into a major head cold - I can't believe a little girl like me can produce that much mucus. I've found I always get sick right before allergy season. I think my body doesn't know what to do with itself so I just get sick. Good times.
Never one to complain (...) or let circumstances get me down (...) I pressed on through the week, going to work and my internship and classes and... job interviews! The thought of living in my parents' basement until I'm 30 kept me motivated to keep churning out job applications.
So, today I'm treating myself. I had another great interview today, and even if I don't get the job, at least I'm making moves. After my interview and work in COM I came home and ate Ben & Jerry's S'mores icecream and I didn't go to kickboxing. Then I laid in bed and didn't clean my messy room. I've just been laying here, watching Golden Girls reruns for hours, and it's been awesome.
I always get super nervous before interviews. I try not to, but I think it's the worst part of the application process. Last night I was up until 2 in the morning putting together portfolios and laying out my outfit and making sure everything was perfect. I find dancing around to really loud music helps me shake the nerves, so this morning as I put on my make up and straightened my hair I listed to Bottoms Up. I heard it at my friend Melissa's party this weekend (so many BC boys!), and now I'm a little obsessed. There's nothing like a little head bobbing and singing into a hairspray bottle to make you feel a little better.
Miss Tara G, lookin' extra glossy...
Love,
Tara
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
"This song will never get old!"
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
6:37 pm Cold.
6:37 pm Cold.
We need to talk about the Britney Spears concert. Monday night I went to the most cracked out "circus" I've ever seen, and IT WAS SO GREAT. First of all, we decorated t-shirts with the words "Team Britney" on the front. On the back, we each wrote a word to make up the sentence "Hit Me Britney One More Time." All the high schoolers at the concert were soooo jealous.
The Pussycat Dolls opened for Brit, and I was pleasantly surprised by their performance. They actually sang, and their dancing was crazy. It made me long to be a back-up dancer. They started to sing "I Don't Need A Man," which I told Noelle I had never heard before. Noelle looked at me like I was crazy and said, "Girl, it's like your song. You would love it." I did.
After the Dolls performed, all these crazy clowns and contortionists hit the stage to entertain us while Britney waited back stage, probably finishing her Red Bull and asking God, in a Southern accent, to bring her luck. It took FOREVER for her to finally get on stage, but when she did it was amazing. People FREAKED OUT as she descended from the ceiling on a trapeze.
It's Britney, bitch...
The concert was good. She lip-synched the entire time, but that was expected. I was a little disappointed that she didn't dance more - I mean, she wasn't singing, so it wouldn't have been hard - but it was still a really cool performance.
Towards the end, she "sang" a remix to "Hit Me Baby One More Time," and as we were screaming and singing along, Noelle yelled, "This song will never get old!" It was so true.
Love her, hate her, say what you want about her...
I'm a Britney lifer.
Love,
Tara
Sunday, March 15, 2009
"I'm washing my hands of you."
Sunday, March 15, 2009
5:12 pm Beware...
Sooo, I'm still in Glastonbury. I couldn't stand to let my spring break end, so I got talked into staying until tomorrow morning. I'm taking a 6 am bus, so while extending my vacation seems like a great idea right now, I'm sure I will be cursing myself when I have to wake up at 4:30 tomorrow morning.
Anywhozzle, having another full day at home has been just lovely. I woke up at 7:30 am to go on a hike with Dad. We went over to the Kongscut Land Trust and walked around in the cold for a while. There's no marked trail so it was all a little etch-a-sketch, but we managed to find our way back. It was all good until my mind started to wander, and I thought about what would happen if we were attacked by a bear. I spent the rest of the hike looking for hiding places within running distance.
After the hike, I came home, ate a grapefruit (my favorite fruit, next to kiwis and apricots), and Mom and I went to the mall for some spring clothes shopping. I needed some stuff to wear to my internship, so we cleaned up at Express. Then we went to Ann Taylor Loft at Evergreen and did some spring clothes shopping for her. Contrary to rumors, Ann Taylor stores are not going out of business. After Mom modeled her clothes in the dressing room, and I gave the final approval, we went over to Moe's Southwest Grill for some delicious Mexican food. I suggest the Art Vandalay burrito. Mmm, I could eat another one right now.
Full of Mexican food and giddy with spendorphins (n. opiate-like hormones that are manufactured in the body and contribute to natural feelings of well-being after shopping), we came home where my parents ganged up on me and convinced me to stay until tomorrow morning. Okay, actually they suggested it, and the thought of packing now as opposed to later convinced me to stay. Give me a chance to procrastinate, and I'll take it.
Now that the rest of my day was free (though my To Do List begged to differ), Mom and I went to the Museum on the Green to look up dead relatives. Mom has really been getting into our family's geneaology, and it's kind of weird how every one of our relatives has seemed to live in Connecticut and Massachusetts for hundreds of years. Even right in Glastonbury. Apparently, we're direct relatives of the Hubbards who donated the land for Hubbard Green. Personally, I think I should be able to take the land back because my great (x 20) grandfather donated it, but I think other people might disagree, so I won't make a fuss. I'm a people-pleaser.
After scouring a dusty old book for information on relatives (okay, she scoured, I sat there for moral support), we walked around the graveyard looking for names of people we're related to. We didn't find anyone we were directly related to, but it was so nice out. As we walked through the green I received a phone call from my charming sister Stephanie, who asked me in a very accusatory tone why I had not called her all day. I told her that I had been busy spending money and eating burritos and trudging through graveyards, but she was not very sympathetic. I guess working 80 hours a week can do that to a person.
Once the graveyard stroll was over, we picked up Kaitlyn from work, and went to CVS where they wouldn't let me have my prescriptions again because they told me I wasn't insured. I hate insurance companies. Seriously. Don't ever work for one. They just spend their days trying to steal your money and not insure you. When I went part-time as a student, we told the insurance company, in keeping with being honest and, you know, not committing insurance fraud. This meant we (hahaha, I mean my parents) would have to pay much more money to give me health insurance, but whatever. Now, even though my parents have paid more than is due, Aetna still keeps saying I'm not insured. So, every time I go to CVS, the prescription pick-up guys roll their eyes like "Here's the crazy girl who thinks she has insurance, again." They can't say that though, so when I approach the counter, they just politely ask, "Um, did your insurance maybe change?" And then I politely say, "NO! Aetna is just the root of all that is evil and wrong in this world." Can't a girl pick up her nose spray without it being a big deal? I mean, seriously. Aetna - you're on my list.
After another awkward encounter with the prescription pick-up guys we drove home, where I asked Dad (very politely) how much money he was going to give me to go to grad school. He laughed and started rubbing his hands together. I thought he was doing some cool magic trick where he conjures up $200,000 and hands it to me, but instead he said, "Know what this is?"
"What, dearest Father?" I replied.
"I'm washing my hands of you."
Is this any way to treat your oldest and dearest daughter who has brought so much joy to your life? I think not. In fact, I would write this denial of education down in my notebook of Things My Parents Did That I Will Never Do to My Own Children, but I already ran out of space.
Love,
Tara
5:12 pm Beware...
Sooo, I'm still in Glastonbury. I couldn't stand to let my spring break end, so I got talked into staying until tomorrow morning. I'm taking a 6 am bus, so while extending my vacation seems like a great idea right now, I'm sure I will be cursing myself when I have to wake up at 4:30 tomorrow morning.
Anywhozzle, having another full day at home has been just lovely. I woke up at 7:30 am to go on a hike with Dad. We went over to the Kongscut Land Trust and walked around in the cold for a while. There's no marked trail so it was all a little etch-a-sketch, but we managed to find our way back. It was all good until my mind started to wander, and I thought about what would happen if we were attacked by a bear. I spent the rest of the hike looking for hiding places within running distance.
After the hike, I came home, ate a grapefruit (my favorite fruit, next to kiwis and apricots), and Mom and I went to the mall for some spring clothes shopping. I needed some stuff to wear to my internship, so we cleaned up at Express. Then we went to Ann Taylor Loft at Evergreen and did some spring clothes shopping for her. Contrary to rumors, Ann Taylor stores are not going out of business. After Mom modeled her clothes in the dressing room, and I gave the final approval, we went over to Moe's Southwest Grill for some delicious Mexican food. I suggest the Art Vandalay burrito. Mmm, I could eat another one right now.
Full of Mexican food and giddy with spendorphins (n. opiate-like hormones that are manufactured in the body and contribute to natural feelings of well-being after shopping), we came home where my parents ganged up on me and convinced me to stay until tomorrow morning. Okay, actually they suggested it, and the thought of packing now as opposed to later convinced me to stay. Give me a chance to procrastinate, and I'll take it.
Now that the rest of my day was free (though my To Do List begged to differ), Mom and I went to the Museum on the Green to look up dead relatives. Mom has really been getting into our family's geneaology, and it's kind of weird how every one of our relatives has seemed to live in Connecticut and Massachusetts for hundreds of years. Even right in Glastonbury. Apparently, we're direct relatives of the Hubbards who donated the land for Hubbard Green. Personally, I think I should be able to take the land back because my great (x 20) grandfather donated it, but I think other people might disagree, so I won't make a fuss. I'm a people-pleaser.
After scouring a dusty old book for information on relatives (okay, she scoured, I sat there for moral support), we walked around the graveyard looking for names of people we're related to. We didn't find anyone we were directly related to, but it was so nice out. As we walked through the green I received a phone call from my charming sister Stephanie, who asked me in a very accusatory tone why I had not called her all day. I told her that I had been busy spending money and eating burritos and trudging through graveyards, but she was not very sympathetic. I guess working 80 hours a week can do that to a person.
Once the graveyard stroll was over, we picked up Kaitlyn from work, and went to CVS where they wouldn't let me have my prescriptions again because they told me I wasn't insured. I hate insurance companies. Seriously. Don't ever work for one. They just spend their days trying to steal your money and not insure you. When I went part-time as a student, we told the insurance company, in keeping with being honest and, you know, not committing insurance fraud. This meant we (hahaha, I mean my parents) would have to pay much more money to give me health insurance, but whatever. Now, even though my parents have paid more than is due, Aetna still keeps saying I'm not insured. So, every time I go to CVS, the prescription pick-up guys roll their eyes like "Here's the crazy girl who thinks she has insurance, again." They can't say that though, so when I approach the counter, they just politely ask, "Um, did your insurance maybe change?" And then I politely say, "NO! Aetna is just the root of all that is evil and wrong in this world." Can't a girl pick up her nose spray without it being a big deal? I mean, seriously. Aetna - you're on my list.
After another awkward encounter with the prescription pick-up guys we drove home, where I asked Dad (very politely) how much money he was going to give me to go to grad school. He laughed and started rubbing his hands together. I thought he was doing some cool magic trick where he conjures up $200,000 and hands it to me, but instead he said, "Know what this is?"
"What, dearest Father?" I replied.
"I'm washing my hands of you."
Is this any way to treat your oldest and dearest daughter who has brought so much joy to your life? I think not. In fact, I would write this denial of education down in my notebook of Things My Parents Did That I Will Never Do to My Own Children, but I already ran out of space.
Love,
Tara
Thursday, March 12, 2009
"How do you sleep?"
Thursday, March 12, 2009
12:52 pm Four days left...
So, one of the things I have thoroughly enjoyed during this spring break in Gbury is singing. Singing is not something I do much of while at school (neighbors complain, RAs get called, it gets messy), but when I'm home I sing all the time. First, there are the songs I make up. This morning I started with "Where are my keys?" and then switched to "Ima need to get over" when I needed to switch lanes on the highway. There's no particular tune to either of these songs, though when I broke out into "What will I have for lunch?" it kind of sounded like "Row, Row, Row Your Boat."
Then there are songs on the radio. While I was driving "Gives You Hell" came on, which I sang to, along with some choreographed arm movements. Luckily, that song comes on the radio every two minutes so I had many opportunities to practice. After that, "How Do You Sleep?" came on. Stephanie has been in love with Jesse McCartney since she was 11, but she was disappointed with his music video. I hated it the first time I watched it, but now I kinda like it. Regardless, I've memorized Ludacris' rap, the best part of the song.
And JM's so hot, who really cares about the video?
Love,
Tara
12:52 pm Four days left...
So, one of the things I have thoroughly enjoyed during this spring break in Gbury is singing. Singing is not something I do much of while at school (neighbors complain, RAs get called, it gets messy), but when I'm home I sing all the time. First, there are the songs I make up. This morning I started with "Where are my keys?" and then switched to "Ima need to get over" when I needed to switch lanes on the highway. There's no particular tune to either of these songs, though when I broke out into "What will I have for lunch?" it kind of sounded like "Row, Row, Row Your Boat."
Then there are songs on the radio. While I was driving "Gives You Hell" came on, which I sang to, along with some choreographed arm movements. Luckily, that song comes on the radio every two minutes so I had many opportunities to practice. After that, "How Do You Sleep?" came on. Stephanie has been in love with Jesse McCartney since she was 11, but she was disappointed with his music video. I hated it the first time I watched it, but now I kinda like it. Regardless, I've memorized Ludacris' rap, the best part of the song.
And JM's so hot, who really cares about the video?
Love,
Tara
Sunday, March 8, 2009
"Sweet Dreams"
Sunday, March 8, 2009
10:57 pm Not tired.
This daylight savings thing is really messing with my sleep schedule. Or maybe it's the fact that I didn't get up until 1:30 this afternoon. Hard to say. Either way, interning at B+S has forced me to try and live a healthier lifestyle. My first goal was to tackle sleeping. I've noticed (okay, people have told me) that I tend to be cranky and irritable when I don't get my beauty sleep. And it's true. When the 7 am alarm chimes on my Blackberry, my reaction usually involves a combination of crying and cursing the gods, with a whole bunch of expletives thrown in. You would think that the early morning text messages I receive from my doting parents, wishing me a sparkling day and a GMK (goodmorning kiss - * insert collective "awww" here*) would help, but I'm usually in such a foul mood I can't bring myself to respond to them until later.
So, to improve my life, I have come up with a sleep schedule. It goes along with my OCD tendencies and makes me feel like I have some sort of control over my life, even if it hasn't really helped me sleep better. After extensive research on the Internet, I have learned that adults typically need 7 to 9 hours of sleep a night, but it's different for everyone. In general, you should try not to let yourself sleep more than 9 hours in one night because that can lead to you feeling more tired the next day, and taking one nap a day is fine so long as it's only 20 minutes and not after 3 pm. You also should refrain from doing other activities in your bedroom besides sleeping (this has proved difficult since I live in a dorm), and you shouldn't watch TV or go on the computer before bed because it stimulates something and that's bad. Phew.
Anyway, just writing this post is making me sleepy because it's boring me to tears. I just haven't been able to come up with anything interesting to write about lately. Maybe I'll have a really inspiring dream tonight...
I hope for your sake I do.
Love,
Tara
10:57 pm Not tired.
This daylight savings thing is really messing with my sleep schedule. Or maybe it's the fact that I didn't get up until 1:30 this afternoon. Hard to say. Either way, interning at B+S has forced me to try and live a healthier lifestyle. My first goal was to tackle sleeping. I've noticed (okay, people have told me) that I tend to be cranky and irritable when I don't get my beauty sleep. And it's true. When the 7 am alarm chimes on my Blackberry, my reaction usually involves a combination of crying and cursing the gods, with a whole bunch of expletives thrown in. You would think that the early morning text messages I receive from my doting parents, wishing me a sparkling day and a GMK (goodmorning kiss - * insert collective "awww" here*) would help, but I'm usually in such a foul mood I can't bring myself to respond to them until later.
So, to improve my life, I have come up with a sleep schedule. It goes along with my OCD tendencies and makes me feel like I have some sort of control over my life, even if it hasn't really helped me sleep better. After extensive research on the Internet, I have learned that adults typically need 7 to 9 hours of sleep a night, but it's different for everyone. In general, you should try not to let yourself sleep more than 9 hours in one night because that can lead to you feeling more tired the next day, and taking one nap a day is fine so long as it's only 20 minutes and not after 3 pm. You also should refrain from doing other activities in your bedroom besides sleeping (this has proved difficult since I live in a dorm), and you shouldn't watch TV or go on the computer before bed because it stimulates something and that's bad. Phew.
Anyway, just writing this post is making me sleepy because it's boring me to tears. I just haven't been able to come up with anything interesting to write about lately. Maybe I'll have a really inspiring dream tonight...
I hope for your sake I do.
Love,
Tara
Thursday, March 5, 2009
"Really!?!"
Thursday, March 5, 2009
6:44 pm No class tonight!
This makes me laugh:
I like it for a number of reasons, but in addition to its hilarious content, it reminds me of Stephanie, who says "Really!?!" allll the time.
Love,
Tara
6:44 pm No class tonight!
This makes me laugh:
I like it for a number of reasons, but in addition to its hilarious content, it reminds me of Stephanie, who says "Really!?!" allll the time.
Love,
Tara
Monday, March 2, 2009
"Hush yo mouth"
Monday, March 2, 2009
3:34 pm First Snow Day in Four Years...
In honor of the snow day, I just spent hours looking through my old text messages from the past month. Enjoy...
Maria (1/28): 2:29 pm: Itll be ok when I stab him with a broken beer bottle. You can drive the getaway car. Or hail down a taxi super fast.
Kaitlyn (2/3): 10:17 pm: I have my pjs on inside out, a spoon under my pillow, a cup of sugar next to my bed. All my homework is done and my clothes are picked out. Snow!
Dad (2/4): 2:17 pm: Glad to know you’re OK. Stay away from stalkers. ;)
Christina (2/4): 3:38 pm: Girl!!!!!!
Erica (2/5): 10:26 pm: I need your help. I feel like making bad decisions tonight
Dad (2/9): 1:46 pm: In regards to the beanpot, I was going to remain neutral, but I can’t resist. I am awarding $20 to the daughter whose school wins the beanpot. Makes it more interesting, huh?
Maria (2/9): 2:48 pm: Yes! Put the poor kid out of his misery. Take him out back. Take him out to pasture. Set him free. Give him his papers…sall i got.
Mom (2/9): 4:44 pm: Hey! Wuz up?
Stephanie (2/9): 8:02 pm: Why aren’t you married to matt gilroy!?
Maria (2/12): 5:40 pm: Please don’t. This is stuff we can fix unlike aids or pregnancy.
Anon. (2/13): 8:02 pm: So by valentine I meant lets meet up and eat/drink, not rose petals and satin sheets
Nora (2/14): 2:34 pm: It’ll be fine! Just be very nice…cry if necessary
Kaitlyn (2/18): 11:00 am: [picture of a Sim man] This is the man I made you. Enjoy
Kaitlyn (2/25): 8:23 pm: Hush yo mouth
Greg (2/28): 11:49 pm: I love you and i wish you would love me back
Love,
Tara
3:34 pm First Snow Day in Four Years...
In honor of the snow day, I just spent hours looking through my old text messages from the past month. Enjoy...
Maria (1/28): 2:29 pm: Itll be ok when I stab him with a broken beer bottle. You can drive the getaway car. Or hail down a taxi super fast.
Kaitlyn (2/3): 10:17 pm: I have my pjs on inside out, a spoon under my pillow, a cup of sugar next to my bed. All my homework is done and my clothes are picked out. Snow!
Dad (2/4): 2:17 pm: Glad to know you’re OK. Stay away from stalkers. ;)
Christina (2/4): 3:38 pm: Girl!!!!!!
Erica (2/5): 10:26 pm: I need your help. I feel like making bad decisions tonight
Dad (2/9): 1:46 pm: In regards to the beanpot, I was going to remain neutral, but I can’t resist. I am awarding $20 to the daughter whose school wins the beanpot. Makes it more interesting, huh?
Maria (2/9): 2:48 pm: Yes! Put the poor kid out of his misery. Take him out back. Take him out to pasture. Set him free. Give him his papers…sall i got.
Mom (2/9): 4:44 pm: Hey! Wuz up?
Stephanie (2/9): 8:02 pm: Why aren’t you married to matt gilroy!?
Maria (2/12): 5:40 pm: Please don’t. This is stuff we can fix unlike aids or pregnancy.
Anon. (2/13): 8:02 pm: So by valentine I meant lets meet up and eat/drink, not rose petals and satin sheets
Nora (2/14): 2:34 pm: It’ll be fine! Just be very nice…cry if necessary
Kaitlyn (2/18): 11:00 am: [picture of a Sim man] This is the man I made you. Enjoy
Kaitlyn (2/25): 8:23 pm: Hush yo mouth
Greg (2/28): 11:49 pm: I love you and i wish you would love me back
Love,
Tara
Saturday, February 28, 2009
"Free Hugs."
Saturday, February 28, 2009
9:18 pm I need a hug.
Maria posted this video in her comment about my last post. You've gotta watch it.
I teared up when I saw it! Big shock, I know. Anyway, a lot of people talked to me about my last post, and it got me thinking about hugging. I think one of the best feelings in the world is a really good hug. I think most people would agree. I did a little research and found that hugging has actually been proven to reduce stress. The act releases oxytocin and lowers blood pressure. In brief, it makes you feel great.
Anyway, this post is a call to action: check out this website and hug somebody. You'll both feel better.
When was the last time you hugged somebody?
Love,
Tara
9:18 pm I need a hug.
Maria posted this video in her comment about my last post. You've gotta watch it.
I teared up when I saw it! Big shock, I know. Anyway, a lot of people talked to me about my last post, and it got me thinking about hugging. I think one of the best feelings in the world is a really good hug. I think most people would agree. I did a little research and found that hugging has actually been proven to reduce stress. The act releases oxytocin and lowers blood pressure. In brief, it makes you feel great.
Anyway, this post is a call to action: check out this website and hug somebody. You'll both feel better.
When was the last time you hugged somebody?
Love,
Tara
Saturday, February 21, 2009
...
Saturday, February 21, 2009
10:38 am In bed.
When I wish on things (eyelashes, birthday candles) I wish for other people to be happy. I'm not telling you this because I want you to think I'm a wonderful person (I mean, I am - let's be clear), but I've been thinking about it a lot, and I need to talk about it. I've just come to the conclusion that if everyone else in the world was happy, I'd probably be happier too. I have a hard time believing there's a good reason for all the sadness in the world.
Like, do you ever see someone you just want to hug? I know that sounds kind of creepy, but I'm serious. I see people I want to hug all the time. Like the other day I was in the dining hall. It's in a mostly freshman dorm, so there are a lot of freshmen eating there - duh. And occasionally, I see kids eating alone. And some kids are totally okay with it - mostly upperclassmen who are doing work or grabbing lunch in between classes, but some just aren't, you know? It's like this kid who puts down his dishes at this empty table in a sea of crowded tables and just sits there and bites into his sandwich and eats as fast as he can because you know he just wants to get out of there. But he already skipped breakfast so he wouldn't have to eat alone, so he's starving, and he's looking around wondering if anyone sees that he's alone. And he puts his Ipod in so he can drown out the sounds of people chatting around him, because while that's really what he'd like to be doing at least this way he looks like he's busy. College isn't what he thought it would be. And I just want to stand up and yell "I'll eat with you!!!" But that's probably the last thing he wants - nobody wants a pity lunch date. So I just wish I could hug him and tell him everything's going to get better and that the first year of college is hard, but I promise it's going to get better.
And then last week in one of my classes the girl next to me started having a coughing fit. She's a grad student - tiny, blonde hair - and you could tell she was sick, but she was toughing it out, and she was there. So the teacher's talking, and she starts coughing. Just a little. Like she's trying to stifle it. But she keeps coughing. She drinks water to try to make it stop, but she just coughs more. She's letting out these little coughs when her body really just wants her to hack away and clear her lungs, but she's in the middle of class and everyone will notice if she runs out. So I'm next to her and she's turning red and her shoulders are shaking and she's tearing up as she's trying to stifle this cough and she's getting embarrassed because people are starting to notice, and I just want to say, "It's okay! Who cares about them? It's not your fault you have to cough!! I'm sorry you don't feel good. It's going to get better." Because we've all been there too.
And then the other day I'm walking down Comm Ave, and I walk by this girl who's crying into her cell phone. Like, really crying. And she's just walking down the street, crying quietly, talking to someone, and she just looked like she was in so much pain. Like, life couldn't get any worse. And I felt so sad for her because I've been that girl who cries into her cell phone and feels like the world is ending - in fact, I've been that girl many times in several different countries. Nobody should have to feel so much pain that they can't help but let it out, right there in the middle of the street.
And then yesterday I was watching the Grey's Anatomy I'd missed from Thursday, and, of course, this woman dies when they try to remove like half of her brain or something ,and they have to tell the husband, and he just starts sobbing and saying, "Where's my wife? I want my wife," and I just started bawling - just lying in bed, crying so hard for this imaginary man and his imaginary dead wife. And I wanted to hug him too.
And then finally, when we were in Disney World over the winter break, I saw this family all over our hotel that consisted of a distracted father, a miserable mother, a little girl, and two toddlers. Well, the reason I noticed them everywhere was because the mother was always yelling at this little girl. So one night, Mom and I are walking back to our room, and the miserable mother is a little ahead of us, pushing a double stroller, and the little girl is walking next to it. The little girl runs ahead of the stroller to trigger the automatic door to open, and while she's running she drops the toy she was holding - one of those spinny, light-up things you get at amusement parks - in front of the stroller. "See what you did? Are you happy? Are you happy?" the mother scolds the little girl before snatching the toy away from her. "You just had to run ahead and now look what you did." And I wanted to tap her on the shoulder and be like, "Um, excuse me, what did she do?" I mean, she dropped her toy and the mother had to stop the stroller for half a second so she didn't run it over, but you would have thought something horrible had happened the way this mother talking to her daughter. And the worst part is - she didn't really yell. She was just so mean, like quietly cutting into her daughter with her words. And the little girl looked so, so sad. Five seconds ago she'd been skipping and running, and now she just looked like, adult sad. You know? Like the sadness only adults should have to cope with, never little girls. And I remember just praying that some higher power would help her out in this life because with a mother like that she's going to grow up believing everything is her fault.
So, I don't know what the point of all this is. I've just been thinking lately that I don't understand why life has to have any sadness at all. Why can't we all just achieve our dreams and have the friends we want and the life and love that we want without all the suffering? Horrible, sad things happen to good people all the time, and it's not okay, but I don't really know what to do about it. I used to believe all the, "Everything happens for a reason" b.s., but I don't anymore. There's no reason for all the sadness and embarrassment I talked about above that happens everyday. I don't think it makes us stronger. I think it breaks us down.
Love,
Tara
10:38 am In bed.
When I wish on things (eyelashes, birthday candles) I wish for other people to be happy. I'm not telling you this because I want you to think I'm a wonderful person (I mean, I am - let's be clear), but I've been thinking about it a lot, and I need to talk about it. I've just come to the conclusion that if everyone else in the world was happy, I'd probably be happier too. I have a hard time believing there's a good reason for all the sadness in the world.
Like, do you ever see someone you just want to hug? I know that sounds kind of creepy, but I'm serious. I see people I want to hug all the time. Like the other day I was in the dining hall. It's in a mostly freshman dorm, so there are a lot of freshmen eating there - duh. And occasionally, I see kids eating alone. And some kids are totally okay with it - mostly upperclassmen who are doing work or grabbing lunch in between classes, but some just aren't, you know? It's like this kid who puts down his dishes at this empty table in a sea of crowded tables and just sits there and bites into his sandwich and eats as fast as he can because you know he just wants to get out of there. But he already skipped breakfast so he wouldn't have to eat alone, so he's starving, and he's looking around wondering if anyone sees that he's alone. And he puts his Ipod in so he can drown out the sounds of people chatting around him, because while that's really what he'd like to be doing at least this way he looks like he's busy. College isn't what he thought it would be. And I just want to stand up and yell "I'll eat with you!!!" But that's probably the last thing he wants - nobody wants a pity lunch date. So I just wish I could hug him and tell him everything's going to get better and that the first year of college is hard, but I promise it's going to get better.
And then last week in one of my classes the girl next to me started having a coughing fit. She's a grad student - tiny, blonde hair - and you could tell she was sick, but she was toughing it out, and she was there. So the teacher's talking, and she starts coughing. Just a little. Like she's trying to stifle it. But she keeps coughing. She drinks water to try to make it stop, but she just coughs more. She's letting out these little coughs when her body really just wants her to hack away and clear her lungs, but she's in the middle of class and everyone will notice if she runs out. So I'm next to her and she's turning red and her shoulders are shaking and she's tearing up as she's trying to stifle this cough and she's getting embarrassed because people are starting to notice, and I just want to say, "It's okay! Who cares about them? It's not your fault you have to cough!! I'm sorry you don't feel good. It's going to get better." Because we've all been there too.
And then the other day I'm walking down Comm Ave, and I walk by this girl who's crying into her cell phone. Like, really crying. And she's just walking down the street, crying quietly, talking to someone, and she just looked like she was in so much pain. Like, life couldn't get any worse. And I felt so sad for her because I've been that girl who cries into her cell phone and feels like the world is ending - in fact, I've been that girl many times in several different countries. Nobody should have to feel so much pain that they can't help but let it out, right there in the middle of the street.
And then yesterday I was watching the Grey's Anatomy I'd missed from Thursday, and, of course, this woman dies when they try to remove like half of her brain or something ,and they have to tell the husband, and he just starts sobbing and saying, "Where's my wife? I want my wife," and I just started bawling - just lying in bed, crying so hard for this imaginary man and his imaginary dead wife. And I wanted to hug him too.
And then finally, when we were in Disney World over the winter break, I saw this family all over our hotel that consisted of a distracted father, a miserable mother, a little girl, and two toddlers. Well, the reason I noticed them everywhere was because the mother was always yelling at this little girl. So one night, Mom and I are walking back to our room, and the miserable mother is a little ahead of us, pushing a double stroller, and the little girl is walking next to it. The little girl runs ahead of the stroller to trigger the automatic door to open, and while she's running she drops the toy she was holding - one of those spinny, light-up things you get at amusement parks - in front of the stroller. "See what you did? Are you happy? Are you happy?" the mother scolds the little girl before snatching the toy away from her. "You just had to run ahead and now look what you did." And I wanted to tap her on the shoulder and be like, "Um, excuse me, what did she do?" I mean, she dropped her toy and the mother had to stop the stroller for half a second so she didn't run it over, but you would have thought something horrible had happened the way this mother talking to her daughter. And the worst part is - she didn't really yell. She was just so mean, like quietly cutting into her daughter with her words. And the little girl looked so, so sad. Five seconds ago she'd been skipping and running, and now she just looked like, adult sad. You know? Like the sadness only adults should have to cope with, never little girls. And I remember just praying that some higher power would help her out in this life because with a mother like that she's going to grow up believing everything is her fault.
So, I don't know what the point of all this is. I've just been thinking lately that I don't understand why life has to have any sadness at all. Why can't we all just achieve our dreams and have the friends we want and the life and love that we want without all the suffering? Horrible, sad things happen to good people all the time, and it's not okay, but I don't really know what to do about it. I used to believe all the, "Everything happens for a reason" b.s., but I don't anymore. There's no reason for all the sadness and embarrassment I talked about above that happens everyday. I don't think it makes us stronger. I think it breaks us down.
Love,
Tara
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
"Who owns water?"
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
10:50 pm WTF.
I'm starting a new segment on my blog called: WTF. I'm not going to spell out what it stands for (What The F--- oh, you figure it out), but basically whenever I see or hear or learn about something that really makes me angry, it's getting put on my WTF list. Today, boys and girls, we're going to talk a little bit about bottled water.
10:50 pm WTF.
I'm starting a new segment on my blog called: WTF. I'm not going to spell out what it stands for (What The F--- oh, you figure it out), but basically whenever I see or hear or learn about something that really makes me angry, it's getting put on my WTF list. Today, boys and girls, we're going to talk a little bit about bottled water.
I decided to do a movie review for the environmental magazine we're creating in my Magazine Workshop class, so I just watched "Flow: For The Love of Water" on my ITunes.
Double you.
Tee.
Eff.
Honestly, part of me didn't want to watch it. I did a ton of research for another story I'm doing on "Clean Coal" (want to know the ending? IT DOESN'T EXIST.) that left me pretty sure my children's children will be dealing with some really scary stuff thanks to global warming. And honestly, I still have nightmares about plastic since I read Susan Casey's "Our Ocean's Are Turning Into Plastic, Are We?". Plus, those"Forever in a Landfill" commercials that are on TV all the time have made me feel so guilty I've actually stopped buying bottled water. But, as it turns out, I have another reason not to buy bottled water. Check out the trailer.
I was seriously shaking by the end of the film. At first I thought it was going to be about water conservation, which it is a little, but it's mostly about who has the right to clean, accessible water. The answer should be that we all do, but unfortunately there are these big water corporations who are managing to make a profit by privatizing water in third world countries. It's SO messed up! And it's not even just the third world countries. They're doing it here too. It's disgusting.
You really need to see this film. Companies like Nestle (owners of Poland Spring, Pellegrino, Perrier), Coca-Cola (owners of Dasani - which is tap water, Fuji Water), and Pepsi (Aquafina - also tap water) are depriving people of one of the essential things humans need to survive, so they can make a buck. The World Bank is loaning billions of dollars to the world's poorest countries so that they can build dams they don't need so big water companies like Suez, Vivendi, and Thames Water can profit. Of course, these poor countries end up poorer and can't pay off the debt! It's a vicious cycle.
Sometimes I get fired up about these things, and then I get a little depressed because I think, "What kind of difference can I really make?" During the film, one of the activists repeats Margaret Mead's famous quote and it gave me chills: "Never doubt that a small group of committed, thoughtful citizens can change the world. Indeed it is the only thing that ever has."
The saddest part, though?
One statistic in the film says that it would cost thirty billion dollars to give safe water to everyone on the planet.
...We spend 3 times that on bottled water in one year.
What.
The.
Flove,
Tara
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
"You Look Awesome Today and Everyday"
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
6:43 pm The Village.
I make it a point to blog every other day. It's not a point I usually stick to, but it's a point nonetheless. Seeing as I last blogged on Sunday, today would be a blogging day.
But I can't think of anything to write about.
Well, okay, I can think of a few things, but they don't really go together.
First of all, I almost missed my bus this morning. By "almost missed" I mean I was standing at the bus stop waiting for 3 minutes before it came, instead of the usual ten. I had left my apartment and was at the little store downstairs, purchasing my breakfast of a power bar and a strawberry yogurt (they were out of cherry vanilla) when I realized I had left the lunch I packed upstairs. I raced back into my building, pressed the elevator button for the 10th floor about a hundred times (because that makes it go faster) and raced (in heels) back to my apartment where I grabbed my lunch, accidentally knocked over a cleaning lady, and raced (in heels) back to the elevator where I pressed the elevator button for the 1st floor about a hundred times (because that makes it go faster). Then I raced back (in heels) by the security guard (who I'd already said "Hi" to multiple times because of all the back and forth I was doing), and out into the streets of Boston. Then I waited at the bus stop until the bus came. A little anti-climatic, but a thrilling story nonetheless.
In other news, I screwed up horribly at my internship today. I probably shouldn't talk about it (Martha's watching), and I guess it wasn't "horrible" per say, but it was pretty stupid of me, and I looked dumb. Way to go, Tara.
The COM Student Services staff was supposed to go out to dinner at The Cheesecake Factory tonight, but it was postponed because Micha is sick. Each year, in honor of Grad App Season being over, the whole staff goes out on COM's dollar. It's great. And this year I can drink. It's going to be huge.
This morning I woke up to find that Maria had taped words of encouragement to all the mirrors in the apartment. She printed them off this guy's blog, so all of them have a picture of this random guy giving a thumbs up. It's pretty hilarious. For example, one of the pictures says this:
"Those jeans look smokin hot on that ass of yours."
I'm sparing you the more profane ones.
Finally, I had a dream the other night that the Headless Horseman was coming after me, but I wasn't scared - more excited. So, I skipped down a busy street singing Jason Mraz's "You and I."
I was really good.
Love,
Tara
6:43 pm The Village.
I make it a point to blog every other day. It's not a point I usually stick to, but it's a point nonetheless. Seeing as I last blogged on Sunday, today would be a blogging day.
But I can't think of anything to write about.
Well, okay, I can think of a few things, but they don't really go together.
First of all, I almost missed my bus this morning. By "almost missed" I mean I was standing at the bus stop waiting for 3 minutes before it came, instead of the usual ten. I had left my apartment and was at the little store downstairs, purchasing my breakfast of a power bar and a strawberry yogurt (they were out of cherry vanilla) when I realized I had left the lunch I packed upstairs. I raced back into my building, pressed the elevator button for the 10th floor about a hundred times (because that makes it go faster) and raced (in heels) back to my apartment where I grabbed my lunch, accidentally knocked over a cleaning lady, and raced (in heels) back to the elevator where I pressed the elevator button for the 1st floor about a hundred times (because that makes it go faster). Then I raced back (in heels) by the security guard (who I'd already said "Hi" to multiple times because of all the back and forth I was doing), and out into the streets of Boston. Then I waited at the bus stop until the bus came. A little anti-climatic, but a thrilling story nonetheless.
In other news, I screwed up horribly at my internship today. I probably shouldn't talk about it (Martha's watching), and I guess it wasn't "horrible" per say, but it was pretty stupid of me, and I looked dumb. Way to go, Tara.
The COM Student Services staff was supposed to go out to dinner at The Cheesecake Factory tonight, but it was postponed because Micha is sick. Each year, in honor of Grad App Season being over, the whole staff goes out on COM's dollar. It's great. And this year I can drink. It's going to be huge.
This morning I woke up to find that Maria had taped words of encouragement to all the mirrors in the apartment. She printed them off this guy's blog, so all of them have a picture of this random guy giving a thumbs up. It's pretty hilarious. For example, one of the pictures says this:
"Those jeans look smokin hot on that ass of yours."
I'm sparing you the more profane ones.
Finally, I had a dream the other night that the Headless Horseman was coming after me, but I wasn't scared - more excited. So, I skipped down a busy street singing Jason Mraz's "You and I."
I was really good.
Love,
Tara
Sunday, February 15, 2009
"It's never too late for a second chance."
Sunday, February 15, 2009
5:17 pm Being distracted by The Real Housewives of Orange County.
Soooo, Valentine's Day 09 was rather uneventful. Anyone shocked? Anyone? I came home for the long weekend, so that meant V Day with the fam. My mom and I started our V Day evening by watching Nights in Rodanthe. I thought it was going to be a light, romantic movie. I was wrong. I was looking to be inspired by movie love, but it was hard to through all the tears. My mom and I cried next to each other, while my dad shot us quizzical looks from across the room.
Once the movie ended and I had recovered, I picked up Kaitlyn from her friend's house and crawled into bed. I wasn't really tired though, so I spent some time fooling around on my computer. I did the usual stuff: checked my BU email, my AOL email, went on Facebook, checked the weather, whatever. And then I remembered one of my favorite past times - looking at the Craig's List Missed Connections!
For those of you who don't know (I only recently became acquainted with it myself), the "Missed Connections" link is where people can post messages in hopes of finding someone they "missed." For example, a typical message might look like this:
"To the cute brunette on the B line last night - we made brief eye contact over the crazy man who was mumbling to himself. I wanted to say something to you, but you got off at the next stop, and I missed my chance. I was wearing a Berklee hoodie and holding my guitar case. I'd really like to get to know you better. If you see this, please respond."
Okay, so that's a relatively tame one, but some of them are creepy and outrageous and each one of them is oh so entertaining. I always look in the Boston Missed Connections to see if I can pick out one about me or one of my friends. I haven't found one yet, but I'm still hoping. But then I think: What would I do if one was actually about me?
...probably freak out, blog about it, and then never respond :)
Love,
Tara
5:17 pm Being distracted by The Real Housewives of Orange County.
Soooo, Valentine's Day 09 was rather uneventful. Anyone shocked? Anyone? I came home for the long weekend, so that meant V Day with the fam. My mom and I started our V Day evening by watching Nights in Rodanthe. I thought it was going to be a light, romantic movie. I was wrong. I was looking to be inspired by movie love, but it was hard to through all the tears. My mom and I cried next to each other, while my dad shot us quizzical looks from across the room.
Once the movie ended and I had recovered, I picked up Kaitlyn from her friend's house and crawled into bed. I wasn't really tired though, so I spent some time fooling around on my computer. I did the usual stuff: checked my BU email, my AOL email, went on Facebook, checked the weather, whatever. And then I remembered one of my favorite past times - looking at the Craig's List Missed Connections!
For those of you who don't know (I only recently became acquainted with it myself), the "Missed Connections" link is where people can post messages in hopes of finding someone they "missed." For example, a typical message might look like this:
"To the cute brunette on the B line last night - we made brief eye contact over the crazy man who was mumbling to himself. I wanted to say something to you, but you got off at the next stop, and I missed my chance. I was wearing a Berklee hoodie and holding my guitar case. I'd really like to get to know you better. If you see this, please respond."
Okay, so that's a relatively tame one, but some of them are creepy and outrageous and each one of them is oh so entertaining. I always look in the Boston Missed Connections to see if I can pick out one about me or one of my friends. I haven't found one yet, but I'm still hoping. But then I think: What would I do if one was actually about me?
...probably freak out, blog about it, and then never respond :)
Love,
Tara
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
"The Brain That Changes Itself"
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
7:23 pm Bloated.
I'm having bad luck with things leaking in bags.
It started just like any other lonely lunch at the internship. I hadn't had time to pack a lunch last night due to my being drunk due to the fact that BU won the Beanpot (See? Not my fault.), so I had purchased a salad and a few other things before hopping on the bus this morning. I was picking out the large kernels of black pepper that were ruining my perfectly good salad when I decided I wanted to read. I get an hour for lunch ("I mean, we're not paying you, so take an hour," said my boss one day), so after the first few days of having nothing to do but read Martha Stewart's blog, I decided to start bringing stuff to read to work.
I rooted around in my giant black bag and pulled out a tattered copy of "The Brain That Changes Itself." At one time, it had been a nice, new, clean book, but after The Great Hot Chocolate Spill of 2/3/09 it wasn't looking so good. I sat there, turning the pages of the book, wondering how I was going to tell my father I had ruined the book he'd let me borrow (...guess I just did) and thinking about The Spill. Everything had just been so WET. Wow, I could just feel the moisture in my hands as I thought about it.
Wait -- I could feel the moisture in my hands.
I dropped my book onto the desk and looked at the slime that was covering my finger tips. Frantic, I threw both my hands into my bag, looking for the source of the slime.
Everything was covered! Swearing under my breath, I threw the contents of my bag onto the floor, but I could not find the source. My lunch wasn't in the bag. Nothing had leaked. It didn't make sense. But a funky, fruity smell was tickling my nostrils as I sat there glaring at the bag, trying to wipe off the slime from my hands. It smelled like a - OH NO.
Fearing the very worst, I slowly unzipped the middle pocket of my bag - the pocket I never use, except that one time weeks ago when I had used it to hold a ...banana. Gagging silently and glancing over the cubicle at my neighbor, I grabbed a plastic bag and scooped out the dripping, blackened contents, tied the bag, and ran to the kitchen. I grabbed a roll of paper towels and sat on the floor of my cubicle, quietly trying to soak up the banana juices. The smell of rotten banana and old hot chocolate were creating an interesting odor. It was kind of good at first, but then not - like when you smell curry and realize its body odor. I finally had to give up when I started getting light headed.
Sitting at my desk, smelling like stale hot chocolate and moldy bananas, I looked at the book. The Brain That Changes Itself. It was mocking me. I had come to the realization while I was in Madrid that I am a forgetful, sometimes irresponsible person, but sometimes I forget that. And then little situations like this happen and remind me.
I would have liked to have pondered the irony of the book and the exploding rotten banana more, but I didn't really have time. Suddenly, I really had to go...
I ran into the bathroom and threw up.
Love,
Tara
7:23 pm Bloated.
I'm having bad luck with things leaking in bags.
It started just like any other lonely lunch at the internship. I hadn't had time to pack a lunch last night due to my being drunk due to the fact that BU won the Beanpot (See? Not my fault.), so I had purchased a salad and a few other things before hopping on the bus this morning. I was picking out the large kernels of black pepper that were ruining my perfectly good salad when I decided I wanted to read. I get an hour for lunch ("I mean, we're not paying you, so take an hour," said my boss one day), so after the first few days of having nothing to do but read Martha Stewart's blog, I decided to start bringing stuff to read to work.
I rooted around in my giant black bag and pulled out a tattered copy of "The Brain That Changes Itself." At one time, it had been a nice, new, clean book, but after The Great Hot Chocolate Spill of 2/3/09 it wasn't looking so good. I sat there, turning the pages of the book, wondering how I was going to tell my father I had ruined the book he'd let me borrow (...guess I just did) and thinking about The Spill. Everything had just been so WET. Wow, I could just feel the moisture in my hands as I thought about it.
Wait -- I could feel the moisture in my hands.
I dropped my book onto the desk and looked at the slime that was covering my finger tips. Frantic, I threw both my hands into my bag, looking for the source of the slime.
Everything was covered! Swearing under my breath, I threw the contents of my bag onto the floor, but I could not find the source. My lunch wasn't in the bag. Nothing had leaked. It didn't make sense. But a funky, fruity smell was tickling my nostrils as I sat there glaring at the bag, trying to wipe off the slime from my hands. It smelled like a - OH NO.
Fearing the very worst, I slowly unzipped the middle pocket of my bag - the pocket I never use, except that one time weeks ago when I had used it to hold a ...banana. Gagging silently and glancing over the cubicle at my neighbor, I grabbed a plastic bag and scooped out the dripping, blackened contents, tied the bag, and ran to the kitchen. I grabbed a roll of paper towels and sat on the floor of my cubicle, quietly trying to soak up the banana juices. The smell of rotten banana and old hot chocolate were creating an interesting odor. It was kind of good at first, but then not - like when you smell curry and realize its body odor. I finally had to give up when I started getting light headed.
Sitting at my desk, smelling like stale hot chocolate and moldy bananas, I looked at the book. The Brain That Changes Itself. It was mocking me. I had come to the realization while I was in Madrid that I am a forgetful, sometimes irresponsible person, but sometimes I forget that. And then little situations like this happen and remind me.
I would have liked to have pondered the irony of the book and the exploding rotten banana more, but I didn't really have time. Suddenly, I really had to go...
I ran into the bathroom and threw up.
Love,
Tara
Sunday, February 8, 2009
"I Quit."
Sunday, February 8, 2009
10:55 am Bowl of apple cinnamon oatmeal...mmmm....
10:55 am Bowl of apple cinnamon oatmeal...mmmm....
I woke up this morning around 10 and laid in my bed for a half an hour, staring at the ceiling, thinking about my life. This usually is a scary thing (do you people realize I'm turning 30 in nine years???), so I try to avoid doing it. Anyway, as I thought about the busy week ahead, I started thinking about one of the big things in my life that I actually don't mind so much. In fact, it's a thing I rather enjoy...
I really like my job. I mean, do I want to work there after I graduate? GOD, no. But working for COM Student Services, for the most part, makes me smile.
See how cheerful and helpful I look? Don't you just want to ask me a question?
Basically, my job consists of answering students' questions, talking down angry parents on the phone, and filing. Our office also processes all of COM's Graduate School applications, so lately we've been doing a lot of those (hence the reason I was in COM both days last weekend). Last year, I was promoted to Senior Office Assistant (big moment in my life). This basically means I get to tell the other office assistants what to do. I don't really do it, but it's nice to know that I can.
Just look at me in action...
What makes my job so great isn't really the job itself. I tell my boss, Bryan, I'm quitting every other day, actually. This usually happens when any one of the following things happens: the heat is broken in COM and it's 80 degrees for a week straight in the office; there's a dead mouse rotting somewhere in the office that no one can find; it's graduate application season; a parent gets mad at me on the phone because their son or daughter is too stupid to go abroad or do an internship or, you know, return to school the following semester; a student gets mad at me because I tell them a class won't count for a requirement or they can't have the appointment time they want or they can't see an advisor this second, etc. After any of these situations I usually announce that I'm quitting and walk out. I always return though. Why? I think because the people I work with make dealing with obnoxious parents and annoying students worth it.
And I need money.
Love,
Tara
Storypeople quote that sums up my life right now:
"Money Matters"
I think of it as an opportunity to find out how much money means to me, she said. So far, it means a lot more than I think is probably healthy.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
"You're Dripping"
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
8:08 pm In front of my computer, duh.
I had a little escapado this morning. The word "escapado," it turns out, has no meaning in English or in Spanish, but my family came up with it when we were vacationing in Cancun a few years ago. Our definition of an "escapado" is an "escapade" or a mishap of some kind. Now, every vacation we take together we laugh about all of the escapados we have endured on past vacations. Riding the bus this morning wasn't exactly a vacation, but there was certainly a mishap - so it counts.
I walked on to the 57 bus to Watertown Yard at precisely 8:10 (read: the bus was a minute late). I got a seat towards the front, texted my dad, and clicked on my Ipod. Through Brighton we sped until, over the sounds of Ben Lee's "Catch My Disease," I hear a woman say, "You're dripping," as she points to my bag. I look down and, to my horror, realize my hot chocolate has spilled through my bag, onto my leg, and onto the floor and the seat beside me. I thank her and proceed to panic.
Now, I know you're asking yourself, "Tara, why would you put a thermos of hot chocolate in your bag? Why wouldn't you just hold it?" Because! I got the thermos for Christmas and it has this leak guard thing that makes it spill proof! ...Unless you screw the cap on wrong. Apparently, in my rush to get ready this morning I had just thrown the cap on like some reckless daredevil. And now, as my fellow passengers watched me try to sop up liquid from my soaked pants, I was paying.
"How did you not feel it??" my mother asked me later. I really don't know. Maybe it was the fact that the hot chocolate was, well, hot, so I didn't notice the difference in temperature on my leg. Maybe I was distracted by Ben Lee's melodious voice. It's hard to say.
But I did feel it when we pulled into Watertown Yard, and I stepped off the bus. Suddenly, I was very cold - and not just where the spot was on my thigh. I was cold, well, in some rather private places. Confused, I took off my glove and placed a hand on my butt. ALL WET. Horrified, I twisted around (good thing I'm flexible) to see that the entire seat of my pants was a dark, wet splotch. I had been sitting in hot chocolate for the entire bus ride.
Body + Soul has an article in the March issue about thinking positively. One of the things you're not supposed to do when things go wrong is say, "This is the story of my life."
But it's kind of hard not to when you're a 21-year-old girl, walking down the street, looking like you wet your pants.
Love,
Tara
8:08 pm In front of my computer, duh.
I had a little escapado this morning. The word "escapado," it turns out, has no meaning in English or in Spanish, but my family came up with it when we were vacationing in Cancun a few years ago. Our definition of an "escapado" is an "escapade" or a mishap of some kind. Now, every vacation we take together we laugh about all of the escapados we have endured on past vacations. Riding the bus this morning wasn't exactly a vacation, but there was certainly a mishap - so it counts.
I walked on to the 57 bus to Watertown Yard at precisely 8:10 (read: the bus was a minute late). I got a seat towards the front, texted my dad, and clicked on my Ipod. Through Brighton we sped until, over the sounds of Ben Lee's "Catch My Disease," I hear a woman say, "You're dripping," as she points to my bag. I look down and, to my horror, realize my hot chocolate has spilled through my bag, onto my leg, and onto the floor and the seat beside me. I thank her and proceed to panic.
Now, I know you're asking yourself, "Tara, why would you put a thermos of hot chocolate in your bag? Why wouldn't you just hold it?" Because! I got the thermos for Christmas and it has this leak guard thing that makes it spill proof! ...Unless you screw the cap on wrong. Apparently, in my rush to get ready this morning I had just thrown the cap on like some reckless daredevil. And now, as my fellow passengers watched me try to sop up liquid from my soaked pants, I was paying.
"How did you not feel it??" my mother asked me later. I really don't know. Maybe it was the fact that the hot chocolate was, well, hot, so I didn't notice the difference in temperature on my leg. Maybe I was distracted by Ben Lee's melodious voice. It's hard to say.
But I did feel it when we pulled into Watertown Yard, and I stepped off the bus. Suddenly, I was very cold - and not just where the spot was on my thigh. I was cold, well, in some rather private places. Confused, I took off my glove and placed a hand on my butt. ALL WET. Horrified, I twisted around (good thing I'm flexible) to see that the entire seat of my pants was a dark, wet splotch. I had been sitting in hot chocolate for the entire bus ride.
Body + Soul has an article in the March issue about thinking positively. One of the things you're not supposed to do when things go wrong is say, "This is the story of my life."
But it's kind of hard not to when you're a 21-year-old girl, walking down the street, looking like you wet your pants.
Love,
Tara
Sunday, February 1, 2009
"The United States of Tara"
Sunday, February 1, 2009
2:51 pm In a good place.
Have you heard about this new show called "The United States of Tara?" It's about this suburban mom (Toni Collette) who has multiple personalities. I think. Anyway, I was a little unhappy when my mom told me about it because I don't like other people having my name, but I like Toni Collette and when I watched the trailer I felt I could relate a little. Check it out below.
I mean, I don't actually have multiple personalities, but sometimes I feel like I do. And one of her personalities is "T"! How great is that? Anyway, watching the trailer inspired me to explore my own many personalities. Let's take a look at this weekend.
Friday, at my internship, I was "Tara the Intern," a smart, young college student who's eager to please. She enjoys spending time in her cubicle, looking up the recommended daily allowances (RDA) of things like folate and riboflavin. She doesn't mind spending the day fact-checking a story on apricots, and she enjoys the simple things, like the organic ylang ylang lotion in the bathroom. She tries not to get flustered when she messes up or when editors she's already met introduce themselves for the third time. She smiles at anything anyone says. She eats lunch alone in her cubicle, but it's okay. She's always okay.
Friday evening, I was "Tara the Down-trodden College Student." She runs in heels, bundled in her winter coat, pashmina, and glittons to make the 5:07 bus that always leaves at 5:06. She waits in line and pays her fare. She sits toward the front of the bus and checks her phone. She listens to her Ipod. She skips that sad songs because they make her feel especially sad at the end of the day. People on the bus watch her. She wishes they wouldn't. After getting stuck in Brighton because of a car accident, she finally makes it back to her dorm after an hour and fifteen minutes on the bus. She's sad and frustrated and a little angry. Then she walks into her suite and becomes...
"Girl!" In her common room she sees Christina with her head in Maria's lap as Maria fools around on her computer. Noelle is in a chair looking at a magazine. They listen to her as she collapses on the couch and vents about her day. They tell her to take deep breaths and make her laugh. They talk about the night before and plans for the weekend and life in general and order dinner from T. Anthony's. She laughs and feels happy for the first time all day.
That night, she becomes "That Girl at the Gym." She's too tired to go out but knows a workout will make her feel better. The gym is pretty empty - it's Friday night - but it's perfect. She hops on the elliptical and listens to her Work Out playlist. She feels good. She watches the televisions above her and gets sucked in to two different tv shows. There's some kind of Law & Order type show about this child molester who abducts a little girl. She hates shows like this, but she can't stop watching. Two televisions over, there's some kind of army version of Law & Order about a platoon leader accused of raping a woman in his squad. She hates shows like this too. She wishes someone would change the channel. No one does. She gets so involved in these shows she finds herself gasping at certain parts. At one point the child molester show gets pretty intense - the police are searching the house the little girl is in - and she finds herself yelling "Oh no!" People on other machines look at her. She's a little embarrassed. A similar thing happens later when the child molester is shooting at the police and, like a reflex, she brings her hands up to cover her face. She's literally on the elliptical, covering her eyes. She's a little embarrassed after that too. She works out twice as long as she'd planned because she wants to see how the shows end. She takes five minutes to wipe down the elliptical so she can see how things turn out with this other girl who was abducted 8 years ago and had been living with the child molester. The girl, now 16 and returned to her parents, used to love astronomy, so the last scene is her looking through a telescope and turning to her dad and saying "The stars are still there." She starts to cry and quickly leaves the gym.
The next day, she's "COM Student Services Senior Office Assistant." Forced to work on a Saturday because the deadline for Graduate School applications is Sunday, she dutifully shows up to the office 20 minutes late. The office is crazy, but fun. She laughs a lot. She loves all of the people she works with and likes having a sense of purpose. Everyone works on applications and jokes around and eats take-out. And she's getting paid! People are genuinely glad to have her around. She loves her job. Even on a Saturday.
That afternoon, she's "Bargain-hunter." She goes off to the grocery store with Maria, after printing off coupons from couponmom.com and listening to Maria read off sales from the Shaw's flyer. She spends about an hour at the grocery store, comparing prices and going through the grocery list she has on her Blackberry. She comes home, stocks her cupboard shelves, and updates her budget, satisfied.
That night, she's "Going-out Tara." She dances around her room while she selects an outfit and puts on make-up. She texts and calls friends to make plans. She pregames in the common room with her roommates and makes predictions for the night. They take pictures and laugh. They venture to the Fanueil Hall area and go to two different bars. She dances and sings to the live band at the Tap. By the end of the night she can hardly hear. It's awesome.
Later, as her and her friends try to hail a cab to go home, she becomes "The Bitch." Just as she's hailed a cab, a guy steps in front of her and tries to steal it. She get's angry. She says "Are you f*cking kidding me?" He pretends not to hear her. His friend laughs. It's not funny. She puts her hand on the door handle he's trying to grab, looks him in the eye and says, "No, you've got to be f*cking kidding me. Move." He laughs uncomfortably. She and her friends get in the cab. She wishes guys in Boston weren't such assholes.
And now I'm just back to being me again. The girl who went to work again at COM this morning and then met her sister and dad for lunch at Noodle Street and came back and decided to blog because she likes to. She's big on communicating. Her dad calls her "the glue" because she likes to bring people together. She texts her mom every night when she gets back to her dorm because she knows her mom worries. She likes to go to The Cheesecake Factory at the Prudential with Steph, and she calls Kaitlyn "Shnatertot," and isn't really sure why. She likes to get lunch in the Warren dining hall with Noelle on Mondays, and one of her favorite things to do is to find a clean spot on Maria's floor, sit there, and complain about her life. She's happiest on the weekend and is a little scared that she can't picture what her life will be like past May. But she's a 21 year old girl in her senior year of college with a great job, an solid internship, hilarious friends, and a supportive family, so she's happy. And pretty lucky.
And all of her selves agree on that.
Love,
Tara
2:51 pm In a good place.
Have you heard about this new show called "The United States of Tara?" It's about this suburban mom (Toni Collette) who has multiple personalities. I think. Anyway, I was a little unhappy when my mom told me about it because I don't like other people having my name, but I like Toni Collette and when I watched the trailer I felt I could relate a little. Check it out below.
I mean, I don't actually have multiple personalities, but sometimes I feel like I do. And one of her personalities is "T"! How great is that? Anyway, watching the trailer inspired me to explore my own many personalities. Let's take a look at this weekend.
Friday, at my internship, I was "Tara the Intern," a smart, young college student who's eager to please. She enjoys spending time in her cubicle, looking up the recommended daily allowances (RDA) of things like folate and riboflavin. She doesn't mind spending the day fact-checking a story on apricots, and she enjoys the simple things, like the organic ylang ylang lotion in the bathroom. She tries not to get flustered when she messes up or when editors she's already met introduce themselves for the third time. She smiles at anything anyone says. She eats lunch alone in her cubicle, but it's okay. She's always okay.
Friday evening, I was "Tara the Down-trodden College Student." She runs in heels, bundled in her winter coat, pashmina, and glittons to make the 5:07 bus that always leaves at 5:06. She waits in line and pays her fare. She sits toward the front of the bus and checks her phone. She listens to her Ipod. She skips that sad songs because they make her feel especially sad at the end of the day. People on the bus watch her. She wishes they wouldn't. After getting stuck in Brighton because of a car accident, she finally makes it back to her dorm after an hour and fifteen minutes on the bus. She's sad and frustrated and a little angry. Then she walks into her suite and becomes...
"Girl!" In her common room she sees Christina with her head in Maria's lap as Maria fools around on her computer. Noelle is in a chair looking at a magazine. They listen to her as she collapses on the couch and vents about her day. They tell her to take deep breaths and make her laugh. They talk about the night before and plans for the weekend and life in general and order dinner from T. Anthony's. She laughs and feels happy for the first time all day.
That night, she becomes "That Girl at the Gym." She's too tired to go out but knows a workout will make her feel better. The gym is pretty empty - it's Friday night - but it's perfect. She hops on the elliptical and listens to her Work Out playlist. She feels good. She watches the televisions above her and gets sucked in to two different tv shows. There's some kind of Law & Order type show about this child molester who abducts a little girl. She hates shows like this, but she can't stop watching. Two televisions over, there's some kind of army version of Law & Order about a platoon leader accused of raping a woman in his squad. She hates shows like this too. She wishes someone would change the channel. No one does. She gets so involved in these shows she finds herself gasping at certain parts. At one point the child molester show gets pretty intense - the police are searching the house the little girl is in - and she finds herself yelling "Oh no!" People on other machines look at her. She's a little embarrassed. A similar thing happens later when the child molester is shooting at the police and, like a reflex, she brings her hands up to cover her face. She's literally on the elliptical, covering her eyes. She's a little embarrassed after that too. She works out twice as long as she'd planned because she wants to see how the shows end. She takes five minutes to wipe down the elliptical so she can see how things turn out with this other girl who was abducted 8 years ago and had been living with the child molester. The girl, now 16 and returned to her parents, used to love astronomy, so the last scene is her looking through a telescope and turning to her dad and saying "The stars are still there." She starts to cry and quickly leaves the gym.
The next day, she's "COM Student Services Senior Office Assistant." Forced to work on a Saturday because the deadline for Graduate School applications is Sunday, she dutifully shows up to the office 20 minutes late. The office is crazy, but fun. She laughs a lot. She loves all of the people she works with and likes having a sense of purpose. Everyone works on applications and jokes around and eats take-out. And she's getting paid! People are genuinely glad to have her around. She loves her job. Even on a Saturday.
That afternoon, she's "Bargain-hunter." She goes off to the grocery store with Maria, after printing off coupons from couponmom.com and listening to Maria read off sales from the Shaw's flyer. She spends about an hour at the grocery store, comparing prices and going through the grocery list she has on her Blackberry. She comes home, stocks her cupboard shelves, and updates her budget, satisfied.
That night, she's "Going-out Tara." She dances around her room while she selects an outfit and puts on make-up. She texts and calls friends to make plans. She pregames in the common room with her roommates and makes predictions for the night. They take pictures and laugh. They venture to the Fanueil Hall area and go to two different bars. She dances and sings to the live band at the Tap. By the end of the night she can hardly hear. It's awesome.
Later, as her and her friends try to hail a cab to go home, she becomes "The Bitch." Just as she's hailed a cab, a guy steps in front of her and tries to steal it. She get's angry. She says "Are you f*cking kidding me?" He pretends not to hear her. His friend laughs. It's not funny. She puts her hand on the door handle he's trying to grab, looks him in the eye and says, "No, you've got to be f*cking kidding me. Move." He laughs uncomfortably. She and her friends get in the cab. She wishes guys in Boston weren't such assholes.
And now I'm just back to being me again. The girl who went to work again at COM this morning and then met her sister and dad for lunch at Noodle Street and came back and decided to blog because she likes to. She's big on communicating. Her dad calls her "the glue" because she likes to bring people together. She texts her mom every night when she gets back to her dorm because she knows her mom worries. She likes to go to The Cheesecake Factory at the Prudential with Steph, and she calls Kaitlyn "Shnatertot," and isn't really sure why. She likes to get lunch in the Warren dining hall with Noelle on Mondays, and one of her favorite things to do is to find a clean spot on Maria's floor, sit there, and complain about her life. She's happiest on the weekend and is a little scared that she can't picture what her life will be like past May. But she's a 21 year old girl in her senior year of college with a great job, an solid internship, hilarious friends, and a supportive family, so she's happy. And pretty lucky.
And all of her selves agree on that.
Love,
Tara
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