Wednesday, April 28, 2010

The Yellow Cardigan.

Preface. This is an epiphany that has sprouted/been realized/developed after being away from home and on my own in the real, independent college world this past year. (Note: All the opinions included therein are that of myself as an individual and do not necessarily represent the views of, my girl scout troop (if I had one..), or the Walker family at large.)

Chapter One. My life and experience in high school was a breeze and a dream. In all honesty, it was in many ways too good to be true. I got nearly everything I could have ever wanted, when I wanted, and how I wanted. Imagine the perfect boyfriend, the extracurricular activities of choice, a generous home/family life, good girlfriends, impressive get the point. My life was grand.

Chapter Two. I entered the scene at my university thinking all would fall into place as it did before. I'd soon be discovered and again be one of the very best. I'd get the best grades, receive the best scholarships, make it on the Dean's list, yada yada ya. It didn't take long for some rejection to occur, possibly the very first substantial case of rejection I've ever encountered in my nineteen years of life. I tried to shake it off, but it kept coming. I wasn't the smartest, I wasn't the coolest, I wasn' get the point. Enter the under-confident, submissive, self-conscious inflicting depression that I had up to this point, never seen reflected in the mirror. Further, I no longer knew what I wanted or aspired to do. I had no idea what I wanted my plans to be. How life had changed. The future seemed scary; I'd never felt so lost.

Chapter Three. I watched Confessions of a Shopaholic. I know what my mother is saying, "Where are you going with this? As it is you definitely did your fair share of damage on your Discover card..." But this isn't the point. I know Rebecca Bloomwood doesn't seem like the best role-model (I mean come on, she believes her destiny is to shop), but if you look behind her compulsive spending habits, you find a little more depth. I respect her. She found a way of morphing her menial talents and interests into a career (I say menial because mine are definitely menial) by finding muse in a green scarf, the whole time never abandoning her original style, even when trying to make her wrongs right. Catching my drift yet?

Chapter Four. I was shopping on, in the sweater section to be exact. I came across this little number:

I know, it's adorable. I just wish it was a pretty floral color, perhaps a pale yellow. It's spring after all, and I've been cooped up much too long in drab, snow clothes. Yes, a pastel yellow of this sweater would be somewhat of a nirvana to me.....only they don't offer a pastel yellow. For the expense price of $128.00, I only have the option of the blackest of black, or this grainy white. Enter my epiphany.

Chapter Five. All the people and majors and jobs already out there on the market are like this grainy white sweater. They've been done before and taken. The dreamy yellow cardigan I envision, that could be me. A person, career, and future completely different than the rest. An original like Rebecca Bloomwood, "The girl in the Green Scarf." No more wallowing over the golden days of high school, which in all actuality is the borrowed time spent on Rebecca Bloomwood's credit card. This is the new me, in pursuit of my yellow cardigan.

Why not aspire to be something I haven't seen before?

Why would I want to become what someone already is?

From now on I'm going to see things a little different.

I'm going to dream a little different.

In sum, I'm going to be a little different.

I'm going to be my own big-shot.

P.S. My epilogue includes all the posts to follow, documenting the development and pursuit of the "yellow cardigan". I'm excited for my journey. And I hope you are too.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Some people make the world special just by being in it.

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal.

Love leaves a memory no one can steal.

Thinking of you this weekend, Air.


Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Watcha got there, kid?

Receiving mail is so great, especially if it's a package from Mumzie & Daddio.
(And I'm not just saying this so I will receive more at an increased frequency in the future....though I wouldn't complain to that either....i'm just saying.)

Side note: do I use too many ellipses? I've become increasingly aware of how annoying it may be to some people. So for what it's worth, know that I'm working on it, and that I'm sorry for any irritation it may have caused.
(And I may or may not had to just refrain from adding some more, unintentionally of course. It's a habit, what more can I say?)

As always, the Easter Bunny spoiled me like Edward pampers Vivian in Pretty Woman. And lucky for me, the post man didn't refuse service to the poor, lowly college student that I know, because Rodeo Drive refuses it to her? Not so funny and clever? Okay.  It must have been a tough week; no wit to be found in here at the moment. But moving on.

What's funny is that my mom NEVER allowed me to have a sweet lunch pail like this when I could have really used one, as a major popularity-inducing device in elementary school. Instead, I had to sit at the left outskirt table in the cafeteria with the "almost-popular-but-not-quite-who-instead-have-to-focus-on-their-grades-to-make-up-for-the-fact" girls. But don't think I'm complaining! Sporting the random, plain company promotional lunch bag instead and being a scholar to make up for it, set into motion a life-long pursuit of nerdiness in all my completed years of public schooling, and ultimately got me to where I am now. (Which is where I always wanted to be.) So I guess what I'm trying to say is that Mom (oops, I mean Easter Bunny).....I was rather bitter and embarrassed of my lunch accessory back then, and (or would proper grammar be but?) I thank you a hundred times for your effort in making up for it now. Even if my chances of currently being cool these days are slim to none. Nevertheless, I'll let you know if the lunch box sparks some overdue miracles.

Oh, and new parents, be aware of the significant decision you are making when purchasing your child's lunch pail. I mean it.

P.S. If I wasn't a huge Twilight fan before, I am now.
P.P.S. The forty bucks was another nice, restituting gesture. Seriously.
P.P.P.S. I kind of forgot about the I'm going to have to ask for you to give me another break. I just quit biting my nails! Sheesh, give me a break. I'm taking one bad habit at a time.
P.P.P.P.S. Mom.......


That's a lot of P.S.