This is a thoughtful, inspiring list of why growing up can be awesome and necessary. Particularly #5, “Growing up, however, means letting good people into your life and letting healthy relationships happen.”
My chocolate bar last week had a love poem.
from Invitation to Love, by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Come when the nights are bright with You are sweet, O Love, dear Love, Come when my heart is full of grief Come when the year’s first blossom blows,
stars
Or when the moon is mellow;
Come when the sun his golden bars
Drops on the hay-field yellow.
Come in the twilight soft and gray,
Come in the night or come in the day,
Come, O Love, whene’er you may,
And you are welcome, welcome.
You are soft as the nesting dove.
Come to my heart and bring it rest
As the bird flies home to its welcome nest.
Or when my heart is merry;
Come with the falling of the leaf
Or with the redd’ning cherry.
Come when the summer gleams and glows,
Come with the winter’s drifting snows,
And you are welcome, welcome.
This is how my night went:
Pre-movie drinking: Good! warmed up socially.
At movie: Movie seemed very, very long, but also, I was drunk. sweet. weepy at some points. Overwhelming urge during movie to text all those I loved to tell them I love them. Managed to wait until after movie.
After movie: Sweet-ass dance party. Claimed a dude wearing a tie around his head and a t-shirt with Nathan Fillion on it, underneath a button-up blue shirt. Danced with him for several hours.
At the end of the dance party: Hugged dude, thanked him for a good night. Joined my DD while she closed out. Went back to dude. Asked him a.) if he had a girlfriend, and b.) if not, could I have his phone number? He answered that a.) he did have a girlfriend, but b.) I could have his phone number I responded that no, I did not want his phone number, but thanks, and to have a great time. I hugged him again, and left.
Graaaar.
I’m really into gay dudes and dudes who have girlfriends.
This is far more appropriate than most drop-down boxes could ever be.
(via shloobykitten)
Source: blogcore
These are the things around Austin I would like to do/go to starting soon:
-Deep Eddy
-Blues on the Green at Zilker Park
-Eeyore’s Birthday
-See the bats at South Congress Bridge, damnit.
-Go to all the parks within Zilker Park - Umlauf Sculpture Garden, Prehistoric Park, and the gardens
-Ladybird Johnson Wildflower Center
-Fredericksburg Wildseed Farms
-Emma Long Park
-Go to another Alamo Drafthouse Sing-along
-Chicken Shit Bingo at Ginny’s Little Longhorn
-Continental Club
-Dancing at the Broken Spoke
-Order something from the menu at Salt Lick (I’ve only been there for events)
-Go to Shiner, TX
While reseraching for my history class today, I came across a book from 1936 that has black and white 3x5s pasted onto the pages for illustration. I have never seen that before in a book. As I was sitting on the floor paging through this, a guy about my age came around the corner of the stacks and asked how I was doing. I looked up at him with awe and told him to look. “I’ve never seen this before!” “That’s how you know it’s old school,” he said. He looked over my shoulder and asked what I was reading it for. I told him about my project for class and that I’m a history major. I asked what he studies, and he said he was just visiting Austin and heard about the library and its collections, so he came to see.
He told me about an article he’d read online that discussed which was worse - men who can’t read, or men who refuse? It addressed the concerning over growing illiteracy rates, and how those who can read, but refuse, should be ashamed of themselves, for they possess a gift that many can’t attain. And so this article inspired him to read more, not just magazines and fiction, but read more history books and non-fiction for self-educational purposes. Then he went off to walk the stacks and I checked out my books.
I can read, and I love to, but I tend to forget the amazing collections I have access to at UT. UT has world-class libraries that students tend to take for granted, and sometimes don’t even know about. Most freshman classes require some in-library research. In one freshman seminar class I took, we even took tours of the libraries and had to work with a librarian personally on a research project. So I’m trying to make better use of the resources while I have access to them. JSTOR is one of those as well.
I cried in my car tonight.
In the two weeks leading up to my leaving GAP, the one thing I wanted (other than to not be leaving GAP) was a good-bye card signed by my friends. That way, when I was feeling down or nostalgic once back in the States, I could look at that card and remember that people loved me.
Knowing better than to expect this to happen on its own, I asked my then-boyfriend to please buy a card and have my friends sign it. I mentioned it one week later.
I expected to receive this card the night before we all left, maybe before going to the bar, or once we were at the bar. Nope. I forgot about the card that night, due to the full range of emotions I was experiencing. Crying in the bathroom, trying to hide my tears from my roommate so she wouldn’t start crying. I only stayed at the bar less than an hour, because I didn’t want to start a crying chain. I’d witnessed it before at other going-away parties at that particular bar, and it was never pretty.
I even forgot about the card when my then-boyfriend was helping me carry my suitcases down the stairs to the bus.
I didn’t remember the card until I was waiting for my flight from Chicago to San Antonio. I never got the card. Did the card ever exist? Who knows. Probably not. I grabbed my bags and went to the nearest restroom, and finally let out the tears I’d been holding the last 16 hours. The tears I didn’t cry when I said goodbye to him. The tears I didn’t cry saying goodbye to my roommate and my friends. The tears I didn’t cry saying goodbye in Chicago to my friend and across-the-hall mate. The tears I didn’t cry on any of the plane rides, from Munich to Chicago, or even from D.C. to Chicago when I was moving TO Germany. When it sank in that the ONE THING I had asked for wasn’t given to me, I finally let go and just cried.
And now I’m crying while writing this.
So tonight in my car, when I was thinking about how much I want a damned cookie cake for my birthday, I remembered that horrible, horrible disappointment at not even having a card signed by my roommate and boyfriend, I cried. Because even when I don’t get a cookie cake for my birthday, I won’t be half as disappointed as I was last April.
