So Sam says when he returns home to his wife and children at the end of Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. While I may not be at home with my family right now, college has become a different kind of home to me. I don’t eat home-cooked meals here, watch movies with my mom, or giggle with my sisters, I do enjoy being here with my friends and having once again something to do. I’ve heard before that friends are the family that you choose for yourself. We may not have a choice in who our family members are, but we can choose our friends. I love my family very much but I love my friends too. And sometimes it becomes hard to choose between them when schedule conflicts arise. But you know, I couldn’t really do without either families I have because they are both a part of me.
Well, the dreaded trip is here. My brother and I are driving from the beautiful Southwest to the muggy South. Days of driving are long, and hotels smell weird.
Well, I have to start packing. My room is a mess, with clothes everywhere, and several suitcases littering the floor. Yes, it’s that time of year again: back to school. It’s strange how every year summer seems to fly by. They (whoever ‘they’ are) tell us that it’s 4 months long, but I think thy sneak in and steal about half of it away. My little sisters have already started classes at their school, so the house is quiet in the mornings (more or less). My brother and I go to college far, far away from home (We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto), and within the next few days we will have driven over 2,000 miles. My mom’s more than a bit worried.
Why is it that the moment I need to start packing I have in incredible urge to do something else? Happens every time, it seems. I should be packing right now. But my dear readers are so important that I am willing to give up the time that I could be spending packing to write this blog post. 😉 I love you all! Have a great day.
I was so proud of myself. I was going to do this one all by myself, without any help from you-know-who. I followed the recipe step by step, blending sugar and cream cheese, then adding the eggs one by one, mixing thoroughly. The next step was to add cream, vanilla, and butter, and blend. Next step: bake for 65 minutes . . . Wait!! Where’s the chocolate!! This is a chocolate cheesecake. The recipe calls for 12 ounces of chocolate, and I want to taste every bit of that. What do you do when the RECIPE messes up?? Well, I had to call in the expert for help. My mom is an amazing cook. Her cinnamon rolls are seriously awesome. She should be world-renowned for them. Well, she came and fixed my cheesecake, and I poured it into the crust I had made the day before, and stuck it into the oven. It baked and baked and baked, and started to smell seriously good, and baked, and then the timer went off!! But it wasn’t done. I baked it some more, and baked it and baked it some more, but it was still really jiggly. But finally my mom came home, we baked it a little more, and then left it to cool. And then we ate it. And boy was it yummy!!!
“Would You Rather?” is a game of choices. My high school history teacher used to ask us things like, “Would you rather remove your right arm with a cheese grater, or cut off your leg with a spoon?” How do you make choices like these?? Last night my pastor’s son preached at my church, and he opened his message with a short game of “Would You Rather?” His questions were not quite so life-changing as my history teacher’s, staying more on the track of normal life, with questions such as, “Would you rather own a dog or a cat?” Dog: “man’s best friend,” honest and loyal, vs. Cat: queen of the house, independent, resourceful.
You know, dog is considered to be man’s best friend, but I don’t particularly like dogs. They bark and whine and drool and lick you. I hate being licked. I prefer cats. Cats are more subtle, sure, they insist on being the queen, but I’m ok with that. I can deal with a co-ruler.
Dogs and cats are all fine and good. They’re good house pets, but the other day I found my true soul-mate. He’s tall, dark, and handsome, just like I always dreamed of, intelligent, spirited, and just all around wonderful. He is a horse. At the stables where he is kept he is known and feared for biting and kicking – at least while no one is riding him. But when I rode him, he was a perfect gentleman, giving me hardly any trouble at all. He was charming and responsive, the perfect man. I guess I don’t have to look any farther for my Prince Charming.
So you finally meet that girl you’ve been hearing so much about from your friend. Your friend introduces the two of you, helps the conversation get started, and then walks off to talk to someone else. What do you do?? I mean, you hardly even know this person, and just because you have a friend in common doesn’t mean you know what to talk about. Well, you try your best. You really are quite gallant in your attempts to ward off the inevitable, but such antics can only go on so long, and finally all conversation stops. An awkward silence ensues.
You know, I hate awkward moments like these. I do everything I possibly can to avoid them. But sometimes they’re simply unavoidable. What do you do then? I have friends who, when an awkward moment rears its ugly head will accentuate the situation by announcing, “Awk-wardddd!” But I have observed that instead of relieving the awkward tension of the moment, this announcement only serves to intensify the awkwardness felt by everyone included in the conversation. The best way I have found to alleviate awkwardness is to ignore it and pretend that the situation is not at all as awkward as you find it.
For the record, consider the word “awkward” to be very awkward in itself. I mean, just look at all those ‘a’s and the ‘wk’. It sounds like “squawk.” Maybe it should be “squawkward” instead of “awkward.”
Have you ever noticed what a big deal hair is in today’s society? Men worry about bald spots, going to great lengths to evade and, if circumstances require, hide them: lengths as great as plugs, hair tonic, and the horrendous comb-overs you might see on today’s fast-fading gentlemen. On the flip side, women are often equally fanatical about getting rid of hair, using processes such as shaving, tweezing, waxing, and laser hair removal, to name a few. What is this huge fascination with hair that our society seems to have?
It’s interesting to sit in the dining common on my college campus and watch the people stream by. You will see all sorts of hair. Variety begins with color, passes through cut, and doesn’t even begin to end with style. And with every cut, every style comes a look. Recently a very good friend of mine got a haircut. And she got it cut short. Very short. As in, shorter than my brother’s hair (as she pointed out to me). I was in a state of mild shock when I first saw it (she conveniently forgot to tell me about said haircut), but now that I have reconciled myself to the loss of her luscious locks I must admit that the cut is cute and stylish. What is it about a good haircut that revolutionizes a person’s look?
Short hair on women is chic and stylish in today’s trendy world, but there is just something about long hair that speaks femininity. As one who is endeavoring to grow her hair out from the all-too-frequent choppings of my past, I admire the women who are patient enough to keep their hair long and hope soon to join their ranks.