Cleaning Out the Bookshelf

I love to read- being able to leave the real world, and enter one that allows my transgressions and mishaps of the day to fade away. I often feel a sort of people-claustrophobia caused by social-anxiety. That isn't to say I dislike being around people, rather that I often over-analyze and work myself up about minor interactions and sometimes I just need to unwind.

I'm also a disorganized bookshelf keeper.

Recently, I found that my "unwinding" time is spent on the internet (Facebook, tumblr...), which still ends up in some sort of social interaction, even if indirect. I have begun to turn to video games, all the while my bookshelves of many unread promises are collecting dust.

I have 2 bookshelves in my dorm packed with books, and another, larger, bookshelf at home stuffed, and overfilling with many unread books.

With my last semester of college winding down, my goal is to begin reading these books, and create a collection that I wish to keep with me forever (Harry Potter, all Jane Austen novels... to name a few). I realize that because I will be moving out of my house (sorry mom, sorry dad, lovers you!)  in the near future, I should probably cut back on the number of books I hoard. My plan is to donate some of my books as I finish them- to give other people an opportunity to read, rather than have something that is going to collect dust on my shelf.

Don't get me wrong- I will one day have a large collection of books when I finally settle down. But that will not be happening soon. There is still too much of the world to explore.

With all that being said, I am beginning this clean out with a book called, Pop Goes the Weasel: The Secret Meanings of Nursery Rhymes by Albert Jack. I don't know how long I've had this book... I think I bought it back when Borders (RIP) was closing.  

I likely won't publish something about all the books I read, but inspiration often leads to writing. There are also a few milestones fast approaching in life that I am sure I will have a lot to say about.

Dear Basketball,

I am sorry.

I am sorry that we have fallen apart in the past few years. It wasn't your fault. I take full blame. I went to college, you know? I joined new clubs and got a few jobs. I played a lot of pick up freshman year, you probably thought I would never give you up. I mean, I didn't think I was going to either. Funny how things don't always turn out the way we were expecting.

I'm a junior now. I played some intramurals this year... but it wasn't serious We had maybe 4 games. My heart wasn't there though. I was just going through the motions: dribble, pass, box out, lay up. I am sorry I let myself fall so far away.

I had a reality check this past week. I was in the stands, watching you. And you know what? I was jealous. I had stopped trying to play, and yet I had the audacity to be jealous of those players. Not because of the fan count (though ENC represent!). You remember those high school games? We had maybe 5 parents (15 on a good day) in the stands (M-what? MV) and we still played our hearts out. No it's not the fans, it's you.

It was the competition and the heart, the bruises and the sweat, the strategy and vision. The one time I got poked in the eye but hit the shot and everyone thought my eye was bleeding. The one time I was afraid of playing varsity, so I made a bigger deal about my back pain than was true. We've been through a lot.

I think of the love letter Michael Jordan wrote you. I remember reading it in high school, and thinking, "Yes. Basketball, you truly are fantastic." I thought about playing college ball. I got scared though. I didn't think I was good enough, and was afraid to try... and this is where it has gotten us.

I'm sorry Basketball, and I'm sorry Delilah. We will make amends.

Thank you ENC Basketball for reminding me.

Much Love x14,
Mega Leg

The Break-Up Counselor.

It is not a fun job but chances are, in your friends group, you have that one friend who you turn to for advice when your relationship has gone sour and you need advice. Maybe, in your friends group, you have a friend that is in a... not-so-good relationship, but cannot see the problems, or needs someone to point them out because they are in denial. Hearing a 3rd party, outside perspective, that only has your well-being in mind, is a useful tool when things get out of hand.

Hate me; I am that friend... which is funny, because I am also probably the one who has the least experience in the whole fantasy Realm of Relationships. That aside, I think any outside person (please note: this does not mean a random person) can give advice as long as they truly care for their friend.

Here are my thoughts on the experience of the Break-Up Counselor:

The Break-Up Counselor is a jerk. There is no win-win. In reality, the friend is probably just looking for confirmation that breaking-up is the right decision, but to the break-up counselor it feels like the whole world has been put on their shoulders. You give your thoughts, and either the friend hates you for suggesting it and the should-be-ex now hates you too, or the friend agrees and breaks up with boy, and you are filled with this doubt on whether or not you should have said anything, because it feels like you convinced them to break-up. You are now on par with the controlling significant other.

Ugh. Break-Up Counseling: Not for the weak of heart or mind.

You have to be logical. This sucks because your friend has invested a decent amount of time, tears and emotion in this relationship.

"But you don't understand, I love him."
Yes, well... you're right. I don't exactly understand how you feel, but I know that he is making you cry yourself to sleep on a regular basis, criticizes everything you do, is controlling and verbally abusive. 
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger?"
-__-''

Sometimes all you can do is talk to them. Let them talk about everything that they hold inside. As a Break-Up Counselor sometimes, you may want to go and shake sense into your friend, or punch the guy who is causing this conversation in the first place. It is recommended that you do not do either, because that will cause more problems, and make the 3rd party join the 1st party, and nobody likes a party crasher.

The number one quality required to be the break-up counselor is patience. Denial is cyclical and not easy to break. When you think you have made a break in the cycle, everything falls back to where you started. The break-up counselor is a loving friend who really just has your best interest in heart. And let's be honest your friend just wants someone to talk to.

SoulFest 2012

Well it's about time. For those of you who don't know, SoulFest is an annual four day concert celebrating all things Jesus. And it is great, although I received a few sentiments that indicated it to be quite expensive. As a college student, the prices are not something I can afford. Especially while paying off monthly interest on my college loans. There are plenty of ways to make the cost less, but I am never sure how much time I have during my summer, let alone whether or not I'll be in New England. I'm a procrastinator at heart.

Not only are there discounts offered to buy tickets, there is also a super secret way to get in for free. But fear not! This super secret is, in fact, on their website: Volunteering! Camping, volunteering with awesome people, music, and all things festival. It is all I could ask for.

The last time I volunteered was 4 years ago, and I went with my mother and older sister. I didn't have my driver's permit (though I definatley should have). I was working "Inside parking," in which I directed artists for the Revival Stage. Big coach buses would enter the area and I would have to pretend like I knew how to direct cars. I was terrified, but I did get to casually talk with random band members from Superchic[k], Kutless and Tenth Avenue North. In the off time, I was able to catch a few bands, and I met some awesome people who had a great impact on me, and made the experience all I could have asked for.

This year, I went back again to volunteer. Just me and my sister. (I've had my license for a while now, if you were wondering). This time we were placed in the Box Office, but we only had hours to work there on Thursday night and Friday. If you purchased or picked up tickets around either of those times you might have seen us. Hello again!

We still had some volunteer time we needed to fill, and we ended up in PARKING! Woooo! So hey, if you came on Wednesday or Thursday after 2p, we might have seen you there too!

You know. Volunteering is something you have to do from your heart. Especially. Especially, when you encounter people who feel like you are a suitable person to take all their anger out on. If it weren't for other supportive volunteers, super nice people who just seemed to love everything when I walked up to their car, and the knowledge that nothing rude was meant personally (I hope!), I might have broken down a couple of times.

Switchfoot. Can't you tell?

But I made it through: fought the super heat, the meanies, and the tenting on a slope that made you wake up at the end of your tent. And, I got to see a few band that I quite enjoyed: like Chasing Cooper (formerly known as Siloam), TobyMac, Switchfoot and Reilly. Oh and Paul Colman, who was hilarious, and had the crowd singing "In the Jungle."

Unfortunately we left a day early. So if you are a SoulFest Volunteer person: I'm so sorry!! I had no intentions of leaving early, we weren't scheduled for anything yet, we didn't sign in, and my sister was ready to leave after we packed up. No excuses.

I didn't get to say goodbye to anyone. So if fate brings you here and you were someone I wanted to say goodbye to: It was good to meet you!

To the ENC tent: Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for that T-Shirt. I had grossly sweat through all of the shirts I brought, and that one saved my life, and anyone who had to stand in my vicinity. I will wear that shirt proudly around campus next year. #ENClove!

Whew. That was a lot. But it was truly a great weekend.

Befriending Irony

I always forget an umbrella when it rains. Every time. If it is a sunny, beautiful day, my umbrella weighs down my bag, laughing at me with Irony. Then, when it does rain, it happens to be the day I decide: carrying around a heavy umbrella is futile. Oh Irony, how you must take pleasure in my life.

One day last summer, I was waiting at the trolley stop. I was wearing a nice dress and was going into town to meet with some friends. The sun shone, the work day had gone by quickly, it was a Friday and the day could not seem to get any better. I boarded the trolley and was off for an adventure with my friends. The trolley went underground; I transferred to the subway (the much less glamorous form of public transit) and continued on my way.

Finally getting off the hot, crowded train, I took to the stairs anxious to be welcomed back into the sunlight. I knocked myself for ever reflecting on how wonderful and sunny the day was… I should have known that it was only a matter of time before Irony felt the need to check up on me.

Sheets of rain poured down from the sky. Buckets in the clouds seemed to just overflow and dump out onto me. I did not want to take that first step out into the street. I saw businessmen sprinting with their briefcases over their heads, people trying to use a newspaper as shelter. I had a purse… with no umbrella in it.

People pushed by me from the subway exit as I debated whether or not I should ditch my friends, go home and apologize later. Just as I was turning around to reenter the subway, a man accidentally bumped me, pushing me out from underneath my shelter: instantly drenched. So much for decision making, clearly Irony had already made plans for me. I felt like I was being manipulated into going on a date, and just could not say no.

I walked down streets, water dripping off my nose, muttering to myself and ranting about my hatred for Irony and Irony’s love for me.

I arrived at the coffee shop, where my friends said to meet. Maybe I was early. The shop was slowly filling up as college students got out of their summer classes. I shook my head at myself, thinking about all the people walking by looking at me right now: drenched and sipping on my tea…alone. I let 14 minutes pass before I looked at my phone to see 3 texts all saying the same thing:

“Weather’s bad, we’ll reschedule.”

As I sat there, I realized that I had not been sitting by myself at all. Irony was sipping on a latte beside me with a big grin slapped on his face.

Well played Irony, well played.

Love the Word, Hate the Flavor

Gouda. I am not quite sure what is so appealing about this word. It's refreshing. You simply say the word and it finishes with "ahh," like you just took a sip of ice water of a stifling hot day.

Gouda. Iz Gewd.
Gewd. Ahhh...

Whether you care or not, Gouda cheese originated in Holland, and if you ever cared how to make it just click HERE!

As much as I love randomly saying "Gouda Cheese," or quoting She's the Man when I say, "My favorite's Gouda," I just can't bring myself to actually enjoy this particular dairy product.

I would love to say that I actually enjoy this cheese, rather than be an endorser for a product I don't actually eat. And yet, here I am... writing about Gouda.

I was first tried Gouda as a Freshman in college. As a vegetarian at a small (mostly commuter student) college campus, my food choices are limited. Not to mention I'm picky. So, if it's not a salad, it's a sandwich! And a sandwich for me, is basically a salad with a slice of provolone cheese and bread. It's an amazing sandwich.

Since provolone cheese is a delicacy on my campus, you are lucky to grab even half a slice before it's gone. Especially if you don't go to lunch in the first wave of people. (Which I never do). I learned my lesson- in my sandwich, there is no substitute'. No provolone, no sandwich. End of story.

It's called provolovin' for a reason.

The first time I was faced with the dilemma of no provolone, I thought, "No biggie, the cheese doesn't even make that much of a difference once I put the lettuce, tomato, cucumber, honey mustard, bean sprouts, pickles, banana peppers and whatever else I can find on the sandwich." I thought, "I always talk about how much I love Gouda. I'll just put that in my sandwich and then I can say I ate gouda, and I liked it." I though, "What could possibly go wrong?"

My sandwich looked beautiful. I was excited to have my first bite of gouda cheese.

...

I ended up taking the cheese out of the sandwich, and just eating the bread and vegetables.

With that sandwich I discovered that: Gouda, while sounding delicious when spoken, does not belong in that sandwich.

Coffee Past 7p

Some people are night owls while others are early birds. What do you call a person who is neither? What kind of bird just likes to sleep? Well, whatever it is, when I am in summer mode that is the kind of bird I become, even though I try to force myself to wake up early.

My freshman year of college I tried to become a night owl. I would stay up to anywhere from 12a to 3a before going to sleep, and I would wake up at 7a. All without drinking coffee. I was pretty smug about it. But, it did not take long to figure out that 4 hours of sleep for me was simply not enough. Long story short, I decided to self-enforce a bedtime.

The summer before my sophomore year, I began drinking coffee because I would go to work at 6a. During the school year I would go to bed at a reasonable 11p. I didn't need to drink coffee, but it tasted good, and it was nice having a little bit of help waking up in the morning. A few times however, I decided that it would be a great idea to get a coffee at 7p. Thinking it would help me with my homework. Besides, caffeine doesn't affect me that much. (Denial).

I did this last night again:

"It's 3a. I'm wide awake. And I want to sleep. I love sleep. It's a hobby. I want sleep. I tried to sleep. I was yawning. That means I'm tired, right? Why is my mind racing a million miles a second, and my eyes wide open? My eyes hurt, but they won't close.

I know better than having coffee past 7p. I should have known better, I have to wake up at 6a tomorrow today. I won't be happy."

The solution? -- More Coffee.

And I thought I wasn't going to give in and drink coffee when I got to college.