Day 1, 2, Skip a Few...7?

In my attempt to blog everyday I realized that I might possibly have a social circle. So while it became a massive fail in my ten day, ten minute challenge I did indeed succeed in going out a few nights this week.

It's a win-lose-win then, right? Right.

It's especially hard for people like me, who live in very tiny social groups, to expand their friend circles so I'm kind of proud of myself for having a group of friends now at university. It only took four years, but seriously, who's counting?

 First moving here, felt like I was cut off from the people I knew and got along with and making new acquaintances was foreign. I spent a good chunk of my life getting to know the people I went to school with and still debated time and time again about who I wanted as a friend. And that was only in a class of fifty kids. 40,000 students at the University of Michigan has sort of stepped it up a notch.

From that pool of unwitting victims I have aligned myself with some curious folks. All of whom I hold dear. Mostly because they love me so much.

They let me know by giving me things like this:

You know who you are...

But I'm not only on the receiving end of this love train, I do nice things for my friends, too. For example, I would totally turn in their absentee ballots if they won't be in town. Not that I have ever done this. Ever. Not ever in my life.

So here's a bit of trivia for you all. Did you know that being in possession of a ballot that is not your own or that of a family member is a felony?!? Huh. Learn something new every day.

That's a bit steep, wouldn't you say? Because it is crazy hard to vote as a student in the United States.
Especially if you reside a few good hours away from your polling location.

But sorry, that was completely tangential. I just wanted to let you all know how much my friends mean to me. Especially those same friends who would bring me gifts. Like cakes filled with nail files if I were ever to be incarcerated in federal prison...

*cough cough*

So the real take-away from tonight's post is: Get out there and vote!

Day 4. Or Born to Soar

Life is not for the claustrophobic.

It's especially hard if you wear the weight of it on your shoulders. Take it from someone who knows, it'll press you deep into the ground, encapsulate you and keep you from moving and shaking it off.

Every time I get another e-mail with bad news, sad news, troubling news, bitter news, heartbreaking news, my chest tightens. There's another dumbbell added to the load. Another straw slowly breaking my back. I'm numbed and at the same time resigned to it. I sink an inch deeper and struggle a little less. This morning I read the e-mail and cried, I felt the tears falling down my cheeks and simultaneously opened my next assignment.

The world doesn't stop.

I can't afford to.

I'm only acknowledging it now because four days ago I made myself. And that's what is truly sad. Whether ninety-six leaving a gloriously appreciated life behind or twenty-three and tragically lost to us--life is ... there. It happened, it's beautiful, it's frustrating, it's terrifying. It goes and comes as it will, and it leaves us behind choking in the dust.

Today I'm going to work in my stomping boots. Because I can, today. I may not be able to so chose if and when I want life to happen, because it will, but I can decide how I react. So I'm acknowledging this crazy day by stomping.

Come stomp with me.

Day 3 or How is it possible that my genetics lasted this long?

 

In all honesty, for anyone who doesn't know my family history I'll just toss it out there: I had an ice cube's chance in hell to actually have been born. So, go me! And while it's neat to think that my family had the resilience to survive the black plague, I wonder how fast I'd crumble since I can't even manage to combat the smallest most common-est common cold out there.

This is what I ponder as I lean over the bathroom sink to wash my hands after having just dispelled the grossest, most gnarly loogy I could have imagined coming from my own body. But wait, there's more! The surprises of being sick just keep on coming. And in the shape of blistering cold sores. 

Oh, cold sores, how I loathe thee. Because it's not like I have a sexually transmitted disease, what I have, in fact, is a disgusting reminder that my immune system sucks. But instead of the empathy and compassion that I deserve, what everyone reads on my face is a pulsing red flag screaming, "I'm the baby cousin of genital herpes! Isn't that GROSS?" Yes, tiny demon virus. It is gross. Now go away. 

 

Please excuse me now while I go grab some tissues and a cup of tea. 

 

Day 2. Or random memory of the day.

Weather like today makes me want to play solitaire.

Not that rainy sledge-snow makes me want to pull out a deck of cards, mostly because I don't own a deck of cards.

I learned how to play on the kitchen floor. The home where I grew up was heated with a wood stove and on cool evenings my mom would perch in front of the heater in the kitchen and play cards. It was a coveted spot, in front of the heater. Whoever didn't fit there was banished to a pile of blankets in the living room to wallow in the midst of siblings to stay warm. Being the youngest at that time, I used my tiny stature to my advantage to crawl under my mother's arm and curl up in her lap. Advantaged seating by proxy.

Looking out from between her feet, I watched her play solitaire. At first it was a bit like trying to comprehend a book without being able to read words. Mysteriously she would place cards on top of the stack, create rows from thin air, and remove others all while I peered out and traced the lines of the thin, blue carpeting. I can still remember being very proud of figuring out that you needed to alternate colors, but then there is a large gap and I can't actually remember learning to play. There is only complete lack of understanding and enlightenment.

Solitaire enlightenment, it was a big step up in my life.

Mostly I just want to curl up in front of a heater. Which brings me to my next, and the more pressing, topic. Why isn't the heat on in my apartment?
Seriously.