During the holidays, Union Square is swarmed with people not really there for the shopping but mostly there for the experience. I just noticed this year how many of those people are from out of town. It's nice, though, how girls will dress up in fancy clothes and run along laughing with a sense of wonder, like the whole place is magical and they're along for the ride.
Let's never forget how this place is magical, how the world is magical.
I keep deleting and trying to forget about the emails I'm getting that remind me to pay my tuition.
School is repulsive.
12.28.2009
12.16.2009
Long Awaited
I made Berry Blue Jello the other day, mixed with cool whip, and it looked like the ocean.
You have no idea how long I've wanted to post this. XD;
12.07.2009
Snow Day
I think the biggest problem I have with snow is the fact that I can't play in it.
Like today:
Oh look, it snowed!
... Too bad, I have to brush all of it off the car, crawl along at 2/3 the speed limit, and try and make it to school in 4 minutes.
Yeah, not happening.
I'm rather proud of myself, though, given the fact that I slept in, for one, and then took a shower, ran out of the house with my hair still wet and my jacket unzipped, wearing sneakers, walked across an unshoveled sidewalk, brushed the snow off the car, and still didn't freeze. I feel like a tough girl now. My Bay Area weather-pansy-ness has worn off (maybe?).
I'm still sad we never get to see snowflakes here, though. I wonder what makes there be snowflakes in one kind of snow and not in another? Here, I never see any. That one time my family's car broke down in Tahoe after skiing, I remember looking at all the snowflakes that were sticking to the window and being thoroughly entertained.
Last night me and the Husband went for a drive through the rich people part of town to look at the lights. This one guy had a whole cascade of giant snowflakes made of Christmas lights hanging over his front door. It was pretty amazing.
Like today:
Oh look, it snowed!
... Too bad, I have to brush all of it off the car, crawl along at 2/3 the speed limit, and try and make it to school in 4 minutes.
Yeah, not happening.
I'm rather proud of myself, though, given the fact that I slept in, for one, and then took a shower, ran out of the house with my hair still wet and my jacket unzipped, wearing sneakers, walked across an unshoveled sidewalk, brushed the snow off the car, and still didn't freeze. I feel like a tough girl now. My Bay Area weather-pansy-ness has worn off (maybe?).
I'm still sad we never get to see snowflakes here, though. I wonder what makes there be snowflakes in one kind of snow and not in another? Here, I never see any. That one time my family's car broke down in Tahoe after skiing, I remember looking at all the snowflakes that were sticking to the window and being thoroughly entertained.
Last night me and the Husband went for a drive through the rich people part of town to look at the lights. This one guy had a whole cascade of giant snowflakes made of Christmas lights hanging over his front door. It was pretty amazing.
12.03.2009
Clicky Heels
I wore heels to school today. Yes, me, miss all-about-comfort, won't even wear a suit jacket or peacoat because they feel restrictive like straitjackets. I wore heels.
They are the only things that make me tall enough so that the Seven jeans my sister gave me (wish I was stylish like her) don't drag on the ground. I don't have a sewing machine so I can't hem it. I haven't showered and need to compensate for it. Thus, heels.
My heels make clicky noises in the hallways at school. I remember always hating clicky heels when I was in middle school and high school because it always made me sound old. Kids turn around in the hall and think you're a teacher when they hear clicky heels. Teachers are old. I didn't want to sound old.
But now, I am a year away from graduation. Walking down the halls now, I don't feel ashamed of my clicky heels. 20 isn't old, and if it is, that's what I am. Growing old gracefully means gracefully growing into clicky heels. I think I have grown into my clicky heels.
They are the only things that make me tall enough so that the Seven jeans my sister gave me (wish I was stylish like her) don't drag on the ground. I don't have a sewing machine so I can't hem it. I haven't showered and need to compensate for it. Thus, heels.
My heels make clicky noises in the hallways at school. I remember always hating clicky heels when I was in middle school and high school because it always made me sound old. Kids turn around in the hall and think you're a teacher when they hear clicky heels. Teachers are old. I didn't want to sound old.
But now, I am a year away from graduation. Walking down the halls now, I don't feel ashamed of my clicky heels. 20 isn't old, and if it is, that's what I am. Growing old gracefully means gracefully growing into clicky heels. I think I have grown into my clicky heels.