Those Life-Long Friendships of College

The other day, I was tagged in the following article (which I'm just copying and pasting for the sake of referring back) by one of my closest friends.

10 THINGS YOU SHOULD THANK YOUR COLLEGE BEST FRIENDS FOR RIGHT NOW

https://thesouthernwander.wordpress.com/2015/03/20/10-things-you-should-thank-your-college-best-friends-for-right-now/

 

If I was to give one piece of advice to anyone coming into college for the first time, it would be to make one really good best friend.  In the years leading up to my departure to college, I had this idea in my head that I’d meet a ton of new people and make a shit ton of new friends in my new life.  I remember my senior year, when dreaming of that wonderful place called college land, I told my best friend in high school I knew I’d make, at the very least, fifty friends.  Little did I know, that wouldn’t be the case.  For a lot of people in college, they find it unexpectedly difficult to meet people and make long, lasting friendships with their peers. This in part due to college “oneness”, or the feeling of being one fish and a very large pond while struggling to maintain that state of being an independent.  For me, my pond was a rather very large ocean with over 20,000 fish and I was swimming in it.  I tried clubs, joining a sorority, everything. Everyone seemed to always be doing their own thing in college and had no interest in maintaining a friendship outside of loose chitchat in lecture halls or social gatherings.  Unlike the dream I had of my thousands of college friendships, I ended up with a very small number of close friends who I could now, after eight months, call my sisters.

 

I've always said, you go to college to find your bridesmaids, not your husband. The friendships you make in college are the ones you should hold on to and cherish more than anything. College is a place where you are discovering who you truly are, and the friends you make during this time are more important than you could imagine.  Now is the time to make those mistakes you’ll regret a year or two from now, and if your friends are still there after that time you ran half naked across the intramural fields, then you know they are your friends for life.

 

The truth is, you can’t do this alone.  In order to thrive and blossom in college, you need a strong support system.  You need to lay the foundation for a strong and vibrant friendship that can push you through finals week, stay up with you all night studying flashcards, and be your shoulder to cry on when that upperclassman boy finds another girl.  College is going to be the first hardest fight you’ve ever had to face.  It’s going to kick your ass.  It’s going to leave you feeling battered and broken.  But it’s going to be an amazing ride.  You’re going to meet so many people who are going to mold you, shape you, and give you strength.  And if you can find those people who love you for all your faults and all of your weaknesses, who see only potential and magnificent beauty in you, then you’re already half way there.  Hold on to them, love them, and thank them.

 

1.  Thank you for being my partner in crime.

 

     In just a few short months, we’ve basically become the actual definition of “sisters from

     other misters”. It’s like something in the universe drew us together like magnets because we

     were supposed to find one another.  You accepted my weirdness, you loved me for all of my

     quirks, you always stood by my side no matter what, and for that I couldn’t be more grateful.

 

2.  Thank you for taking time out of your day to be interested in mine.

 

     I know you’re probably sick of hearing the same story about the same guy every single day

     for the past few months, but you listen. At least you pretend to. Thank you for staying up

     all night to hear me out about this guy or that guy or how much I hate a class. Thank you

     for having an interest in my life and for actually caring about what I have to say.

 

3.  Thank you for showing me my worth as a woman.

 

     I’ll never forget those nights we’ve spent lying on the scratchy carpets of the residence hall,

     crying over some guy who didn’t love us back, listening to Hozier.  Who found someone more

     interesting, with bigger tits, or a prettier face.  Thank you for reminding me not to define my

     worth on the attention of a man. Thank you for reminding me that I am strong, I am

     independent, and I am worthy of everything and all of the love in the universe.  Thank you

     for not letting me fall to deep and for picking me up after every heartbreak.

 

4. Thank you for being unapologetically honest no matter what.

 

     If it wasn't for you, I would have gone to class with my entire ass and jellybean underwear

     showing through my leggings. That's why I love you. Thank you for telling me everything

     straight up and for always being open and honest with me.

 

5.  Thank you for not judging me and for being there with me as I make bad decisions.

 

     I know some of the things I do are questionable.  Thank you for not thinking I’m a weirdo.

     Thank you for not judging me when I thought about having sex with that guy that one time.

     Instead of thinking I was a freak or hitting me, you made sure I was ready and asked what

     kind of lingerie I was going to wear and then we both laughed about it for an hour.  Thank

     you for letting me use your shaving cream, so I wouldn’t leave without silky dolphin legs.  

     Thank you for not judging me after all of the stuff I tell you, like how I loved the feeling

     after drinking too much Bacardi or how I had that thing with that guy that one night.  Thank

     you for sharing this weird, crazy, messed up experience with me and for giving me Tylenol

     when I experience my first hangover.

 

6.  Thank you for daily pep talks.

 

     Whether it be before a huge exam, or before a hot date, thank you for always pumping me

     up and keeping me in check.

 

7.  Thank you for always being up for food.

 

     No matter what time of day, or what you're doing, thank you for always being up to

     grabbing food with me. Whether it be 7 p.m. and a not-so-delicious dinner at PCB or

     ordering pizza at midnight, or calling in some insomnia Cookies at three a.m., you're

     always game for food.

 

8. Thank you for taking road trips with me.

 

     Thank you for always being cool with going on random, spontaneous road trips and for

     helping me navigate the GPS that can't seem to stay on my car dashboard.

 

9. Thank you for always accepting me the way I am.

 

     There's a lot of pressure today to be perfect in all aspects of life. Thank you for always

     reminding me how boring the word "pretty" is. Instead, we shouldn't strive to be just

     perfectly pretty, but rather "pretty amazing", "pretty talented", and "pretty smart". Thank

     you for always always always loving me and accepting me for the way I am. Thank you for

     not making fun of me when I'm stretched out in pajamas with no bra or makeup on. Thank

     you for showing me that it's okay to be totally and completely vulnerable. Thank you for

     making me feel comfortable in my own skin and for reassuring me that I am and always

     will be beautiful, and life is beautiful, and everything will be okay.

 

10. Thank you for showing me there's nothing I can't do.

 

     Thank you for encouraging me every day to do everything I ever wanted to do. Thank you

     for encouraging me to apply for that study abroad program in some foreign country or

     that internship nobody thought I'd get. Thank you for showing me how to live with a full,

     loving heart. Thank you for keeping me sane during exams, breakups, hookups, crazy nights,

     and pillow fights. Thank you for listening to me ramble and being my designated crying

     buddy and drinking pal. Thank you for being my other half. Thank you for making this huge

     college not seem so big after all. Thank you for being my lifevest when I felt like I was

     sinking in this giant ocean called college.

 

 

 

This was one of those chain Facebook posts where I'm supposed to tag my "Life-Long Friendships Made in College"—which I was in the process of doing when I realized it could be read as a low-blow.

 

(A little background information:

 

One of my best friends from high school and I are in the middle of not-speaking. It started several months ago when I realized the mean words passed between us weren't in teasing anymore. At least, they didn't feel like they were teasing—and I am extremely good at hearing underlying texts. Then again, who needs underlying texts when someone calls you a "fucking cunt"?

 

Anyway, to avoid a rant—because that's not what this post is about—she and I are no longer talking and currently in the "not friends" zone, so posting something like this seemed like I was rubbing it in her face.)

 

So I'm posting my responses to this article here!

 

Thank you:

 

Ally and Dez - I'm not really sure y'all count since we met while we were little, but I'm counting y'all anyway, because you two really are my best friends. You two have been there through everything! From raiding your mother's closet for clothes to get all date-worthy, dressed-up in to summer pool parties and fireworks in the front yard to my homeward bound support system in everything I do. Dez, thank you for putting up with me through our semester of roommate-hood (because I know I drove you nuts), and Ally, thank you for tolerating me through all the awkward years of childhood and my wuss self.

 

Beanie, Angelique, and Hayla - You three made London feel not so far away from home. I dedicate my favorite moments of studying abroad to my friendship with y'all. And although we're far away now—with two of you in Arizona and the other still in London—I truly believe our friendship with last the test of time.

 

Mary - While I met you through Dez, you have proved a true friend to me and I love you for it. You were creating a niche for me long before I ever stepped onto campus, and as such, your friends opened their arms to me. Before I even knew it, I had a great circle of friends that eased the trials of college. Thank you so much for always standing by me!

 

And last, but certainly not least:

 

My kindred spirit, Kathleen - Since that first day in Chorus when I finally broke from my shell and spoke to you and we realized we had so much in common, I have known that you are truly my twin. You are the one I call when I need food at some insane hour, I want a book recommendation, or I'm just bored and sick of homework. You are the one who will go on midnight drives with me in your adorable little car, Norman—who I have learned to love as though he was mine. We mesh scarily well and I know—even after only just over a term of knowing you—I know we will be friends forever. I love you, girl.

 

To the friends who I have lost over the years, maybe we'll come back together in the future; maybe not, but I know that there is someone out there who will be your Life-Long Friendship from College and you'll be the happiest you've ever been when y'all are together.

 

To all those friends I'll make in the future, I can't wait to meet you and explore all our adventures that are waiting just beyond the horizon for us!

 

                              — KGratiaM

Night Owl Postings

I really need to stop with the late-night/early-morning posts. I have a topic, but they always just end up a pile of word vomit with me trying desperately to stay on track. It's a little depressing.

Note to Self: Don't do it!

                             — KGratiaM

Family Trees

To say that I have an addiction to Ancestry.com would be a understatement. Not only have I quite literally raided my relatives genealogy stashes out from under them for years, I just spent five and a half hours straight sifting through tree matches--and enjoying myself.

It isn't until I looked up and realized the clock read 3:29am that I understand why I suddenly feel so sore. Both the dog and the cat are passed out next to me, and all the humans have long-since gone to bed. And here I am with my book off to the side of my computer, ready for a read when I finally shut this thing off and go upstairs.

                                             

 

(And the saddest part about all of this is I still will read once I get upstairs--even though it's now...3:50am.)

 

(It's a good book! Leave me alone.)

 

Not to say I didn't get plenty of great information out of merging the trees on Ancestry.com. I've always kind of liked the trees better than flicking through the other files. That said, I love the old script--back when kindergarteners were still taught how to write and not just how to type. (Whatever makes me think I'll be able to stand the lack of pens when I'm a teacher, I don't even know. Now makes me want to bang my head against a wall.)

 

And, yes, okay. The trees are kind of cheating, as they're already somewhat put together. But I think my favorite part is when I suddenly end up with an extra sibling I didn't know about.

 

 

Especially when there's already thirteen others I did know about.

 

 

But, yes. I do enjoy myself. Something about the organizing of information keeps my brain in a mellow mood. It's kind of my personal therapy, which I guess is why I never minded being switched for filing duty during high school. Or why I spend entire nights catching up on my Tumblr tags and relabeling everything I've already posted. (Which, of course, I will be putting off another day because it's 4:10am and I'm exhausted.)

 

And then my eyes flick to my book. Will I read or won't I? That is the question.

 

And I'm pretty sure we all know the answer to that...

 

 

                             — KGratiaM

==

Below is the cover and the Goodreads link to the book I'm so obsessed with. I've never really been a Nicholas Sparks fan, but for whatever reason, I got sucked into this one and I cannot put it down. Britt Robertson is starring in the movie that is coming out...I think, April?

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18296133-the-longest-ride



Severe Lack of Hope Here

Last night was literally eleven straight hours of distraction.

I deliberately turned down seeing a theatre production with friends—which I'm glad I did, since it turned out to be three hours, instead of the assumed one—because I have homework to do.

And yet, here I am, a day later, without having done a word of it.

But that's not what I'm here to talk about. What I oh-so loudly realized last night is that I have no hope left in this world. I knew I had no faith. But I apparently have no hope either. (And apparently, they're two different things.)

I realized this when I came across this book recommendation on my Goodreads account:

And my initial response was: "If it has romance, sure. I can't do the non-hope stuff. I need a some hope to read anything."

Then I realized what I'd said and started out on a rampage.

So I have no hope. Great.

I guess I should've known that. It really doesn't surprise me. I've listened to enough stupid ideas from people around me to know the world is doomed. We are in a downward spiral of broken dreams.

I've copied comedian Kathleen Madigan's bit on hope—or rather, lack-there-of:

My sister was on board with Obama, but she's ten years younger than me. She's much less cynical. "Oh, Kathleen, he's all about hope and change, and change and hope, and hope and change. Whole thing's going to change. Don't you have any hope left, for Christ's sake?"

I'm like, "Let me check for a minute—Uh, no." No. I gave up hope for this country officially when we took the pillows out of coach on American Airlines, okay? If we can no longer afford a five-cent foam piece of shit so my neck doesn't break on a six-hour flight, we suck. It is over. Just go get your Rosetta Stone and learn a little Chinese before they get here....

No, I don't have any hope. I didn't even have that much hope when I was young, though. I'm always amazed at how young people get—they're all into stuff. Like, literally, Lou and I worked in Canada somewhere, and I'm walked down the street in Vancouver, Canada, and in one hand, I had a lit cigarette, and in the other hand, I had a hotdog. And this twenty-something girl leaps out of an alley with a Green Peace folder, and she goes, "Excuse me, ma'am. Can I talk to you about the future?"

You better hurry up. I could have a stroke by the time you're done talking. I'm like, "Honey, I clearly don't give a shit about myself. What are the odds I care about what's in your folder?"

I would like to have hope. Even my religion, I'm out of hope. I was raised Catholic. Really. This Pope, he's ignoring everything. My mom still has hope about it. "Well, maybe this whole scandal will make things change for the better."

"Well, if there's one thing the Catholic church is not hip on, Mom, it would be change. The last Pope, before he died, made a special trip to Russia to apologize to the Greek Orthodox church for things we did in the year 1204. 1204! That's the file they're on, Mom."

So, needless to say, that's a hilarious version of it, but there you go. Obama and Green Peace folders and Catholicism aside, Kathleen Madigan and I are both completely out of hope for this world. It's depressing. And a wee bit pathetic, but I really don't.

Now, don't get me wrong, I am all for aiming to change for the better and I'll encourage it all the way to the moon and back, but I am completely out of hope about it. I have absolutely no faith that this world will even get itself in order enough not to faceplant at the end of its days. No hope. None.

And before anyone goes off about how Kathleen Madigan is only talking about the U.S. while I'm saying the entire planet, here's another portion from that same album:

I went to Iraq and Afghanistan to entertain the troops....We went to Afghanistan first. Wow. What a shithole. That did not even meet my low expectations. I was like, "What a dump!"

And when people are like, "How much money will it take to fix Afghanistan?", I'm like, I don't know. I saw it. From what I saw, run this question through your mind:

"How much money would it cost to fix the moon?"

Now, whatever number just shot through your head, you are correct.

At the risk of starting a rampage from any military person out there, I think war is stupid. The fact that people on this Earth cannot work out their issues without running someone through with metal balls—We have a problem. Just imagine how much better this world would be if people just got over their shit?

And I'm not going to lie. I've had problems with people that I didn't handle in the best of ways, but I also didn't fill them full with lead. I'm not saying I have a better alternative, but I believe with all my heart and soul that there is a better way to deal with something than blowing them sky-high.

Talk it out. Forget about it and move on. I really don't care which. Just pick one and get over it. I am so sick about hearing the count of deaths per day. I don't want to know that. Ignorance is bliss. I'd like to stay that way. Thank you.

And the fact that I have to say that just to avoid the topic of war is disgusting. We call this peace? What about this is peaceful? Someone explain that to me, because I really don't get it.

So, no. I have no hope. If two people can't solve a problem without heavy artillery, it is over!

                             — KGratiaM

==

All italic chunks are material copied directly from Kathleen Madigan's album, "Gone Madigan". None of it is mine—trust me, I'm not that funny—and I take no claim to it. If you aren't aware of her shows, look her up. She is hilarious!

DCP Application

I'm a late-bloomer. In every sense of the word. I'm nineteen years old, and I just finished applying to my first real job. Real in the sense that I applied, not just that I'd be getting paid—(and babysitting totally counts!)

I applied to the Disney College Program.

For those of you who don't know, the Disney company has a program that allows current and just-graduated college students to come to one of their parks and work/take classes (either Disney World, Florida or Disneyland, California).

 

 

(So it's probably safe to say I'm a little obsessed right now.)

 

I never thought something as basic as applying for a job could be so exhausting. I'm so nervous. I mean, yes, it's Disney, but #freaking out over here.

 

Anyway, I am excited. I might have gone on a little rampage the other night when I found out there was an audition for Character Roles (humans and critters alike) and started looking up Peter Pan YouTube videos.

 

(Y'all don't even understand. I am obsessed with Peter Pan.)

 

 

 

(But I'll save that rant for another day.)

 

But my point was I've been through auditions. I'm an actress. Auditions are just part of the package. I actually like auditions, but maybe I'm just weird like that. I don't know what is so different between applying somewhere and auditioning, but these are two completely different feelings.

 

(And I just love how I get nervous afterwards. That isn't helpful anymore; it's just obnoxious.)



So aside from that, I'm actually nervous over a piece of paper. I don't get it.

 

And I really don't know what I was attempting to say over this post. Maybe it was just a rant. But now I'm done before I really just start talking about nothing.

 

                             — KGratiaM

   

Weasels

I find myself fighting back and forth for a decision over my education. I spent five months abroad in London last year, and I'd never felt more at home than sitting on a random stair along the road of the city. I've always been a country girl. I grew up around horsefarms with Colorado-blood running through my veins. I've never been a city girl. I've hated the city from the moment I first stepped into it. But London was bright and open; nothing like the dark heaviness that weighs on Atlanta, or New York. It's weird for me to fit in a city. But I did. My hate of tennis shoes sparked me to wear some delicate boot and my refusal to go on any guided tours—I hardly looked like a tourist. London accepted me with the wide arms of history and clean tube stations.

But now, living in a place I once called home—well, it doesn't feel like Home anymore. There are niches I sink into every now and then, like striking the set earlier today for the theatre or when I ride in the equestrian club. I find myself looking for reasons to justify me moving back permanently—because for some reason, I feel the need to have a reason. Like "Because I want to" isn't enough anymore. Maybe it wasn't ever. But I don't fit in my old home—and that's probably the slimiest sensation one could imagine. It makes me feel gross, and wrong.
I guess I just really don't belong here anymore...

http://www.courses.vcu.edu/ENG200-lad/dillard.htm

For whatever reason, this short story that I had to read for class helped me. I thought I'd link it here for anyone else who needs a new point of view.

                             — KGratiaM