I’ve been off my blogging game recently because, let’s face it, the end of the school year is not a time for leisure, it’s a time for strategic planning and reviewing applications and writing recommendation letters and throwing appreciation lunches and finding all the lost things and/or just finally admitting that you lost them and it’s time to move on. Oh, and so.much.paper.work.
I feel like Jen Hatmaker in her Worst End of School Mom Ever post, except I’m not a mom, just a person who can’t.even. I just can’t.
On that note, I confess…
*Even though I love working with college students, truly they are shining stars in the bright sky of our future, and even though a college campus is a vibrant, bustling, exciting place to work, never a day goes by without a protest or an impromptu concert or a bunch of people walking around in their underwear at 2 pm on a Tuesday…. I feel slightly giddy inside when summer comes and about 45,000 of the 50,000 students go elsewhere for 3 months. Parking is easier, the office is quieter, and I can (mostly) drive around campus without fear of someone running in front of my car like a squirrel.
(I probably should also confess that I have a little problem with jay walking on campus… the minute I step foot out of my parking garage, I start walking in a zig zaggy line to get just the right shortcut to my office, paying no mind to the cars whizzing by. I’m working on it.)
*I feel like my hair is ‘my thing,’ like Jo in Little Women it’s my ‘one beauty.’ I even won ‘Prettiest Hair’ when I was in 8th grade. I have a trophy and everything. The thing is, my hair somehow manages to be both really thick and heavy (like, to carry around on my head all day) as well as really light for the wind to whip around in 10 different directions at once at the slightest provocation. I am not saying I am alone in this, but I am wondering if I am alone in this???
This is me at Will’s graduation, attempting to take a graceful picture we can frame and put in our home and look at daily to remember this momentous day:
Not so much. Notice the women behind me whose hair is perfectly in place. Seriously? Anybody else having trouble? Bueller?
Cousin It it is.
*It really bothers me when people say “conscientious” instead of “conscious,” as in, I’m trying to be really “conscientious of her feelings.” Conscientious means trying to do what is right. Like, conscience. Conscious means aware. You can say “I am trying to be more conscientious in my relationships by always considering other people’s feelings” but you cannot be “conscientious of” something. Just- you can’t.
*My favorite lipstick is this Mood Magic green lipstick that reacts with your body chemistry to turn your lips bright pink, ala 1985. I put it on, blot it so it’s not too garish of a color, then layer lipgloss over it. All day every day. Does it taste kind of funny? Yes. Do I get weird looks from people when I whip out a green lipstick? Yes. Does it vaguely remind me of a makeup kit lipstick my grandmother bought me for my 5th birthday that made me feel carsick whenever I smelled it? Yes. But it stays on for a long time, and it doesn’t dry my lips out. So I’ll probably wear it until I die.
*I am inordinately scared of bugs, which I have a tendency to call ‘buggies’ for no apparent reason. I hate them. It is unfortunate that I also live in Texas, which I swear is the X-Men headquarters for insects. Ever heard ‘everything is bigger in Texas?’ That’s real. That’s really real.