Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Big dumps.


2014 is scaring me.

I know that there have been parts of 2013 that we haven't talked about and also parts that haven't even happened yet, but right now, today, alone in the kitchen, I'm eating macaroni and cheese and thinking about 2014.

Not only does the number 14 just seem so ominous to me, but there is this very specific visual image that pops into my head every time I think about this coming year. I picture me (in illustrated, cartoon version-- for some reason, any visual in my head is always illustrated. My brain default is in drawings apparently) standing on a big white room with nothing around me except for my two, blue and yellow, rolling, Costco suitcases that I've used my entire collegiate career and I'm just waiting. For what, I don't know. Seconds later, a big dump truck comes and drops tons of heavy sand on my suitcases and me. The weird part is that I'm not really mad or scared about it. I just kind of stand there half confused, half expecting it. And then when that truck is finished dumping everything, another one is right behind it. And then another one and another one and another one.

Thankfully because the visual in my head isn't the most realistic, It's not like I have to watch myself get suffocated like that scene with the corn in that movie with Harrison Ford. I think it's called Witness… Anyway. I'm fine. I just am constantly being dumped on. And that is 2014 so far. Which doesn't make 2014 sound very fun.

This post is meant to be a very rare and very special peak into the very rare and very special mind of Julia Patton.

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Today's Schedule:


Woke up
Took mom to work
Came home
Took a bath
Watched a movie 
Watched a movie
Took a nap
Ate a slice of cold, leftover pizza
Typing this post from bed
Still wearing pajamas from this morning that I put back on after aforementioned bath 
Considering putting on flip flops to go to Del Taco for a bean and cheese burrito
There is a solid 78% chance I won't though.

Am I living the life of:
A) a newborn baby
B) an unemployed college aged male (possibly with a very real addiction to pot)
C) the happiest form of a Julia ever
D) both A and C

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Thanks.


Oh me oh my.

I miss this. I miss sitting down and spilling it all. Typing and laughing to myself, but feeling like I'm laughing with you all too.

Do you ever have those kinds of friends that you are so, so close with and then through life, things change (the way life has a way of way too easily pulling off) and then it's like a Wednesday and you're in line at Starbucks you see something that reminds you of that person? So, you want to text them, but you wonder if in the time between way back when you were friends and now, this very moment, at Starbucks, you've somehow changed the truth of what your friendship once was-- you've polished it and put it on the top shelf of the trophy case-- and you feel like sending a text would be so random and weird and embarrassing. And, I mean, worst, worst, case scenario, they probably deleted your number from their phone. 'Sorry, who is this? Sorry-- I got a new phone and all of my contacts got deleted.' Ugh. I can't even... So you don't text them to tell them about the thing you just saw that made you think of them-- something you would have done impulsively a while ago.

About 75% of the time I don't send that text. But then 25% of the time, I do. And I don't think there has been one time that I've regretted sending that text.

Today, I'm sending that text.

Hi.

It's me.

It's been a while.

But I saw something today at Starbucks that reminded me of you.

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Hi


I know, I know, I know.

I've missed you guys a lot too.

Every day I don't blog, I get a little angrier with myself knowing that in a few years, when I look back at this time and there is a big, huge, sinkhole of information on the fall quarter of my senior year, I'll be kicking myself. But, truth be told, I'm kind of freaking a little bit out about my life right now. There are huge changes that are happening every day when it comes to my personal life, or my classes, or my senior project, or the fact that my imaginary mental life goal line for maybe the last 10 years (that is the end of college) is fast approaching and all of that has been very hard for me to handle. The other day, I was in the car talking to my friends and I said something like "Next year, on my birthday, we need to..." and then it suddenly hit me that next year, on my birthday, 'we need to' isn't really a thing anymore. And so I started waling in dismay. Which changed nothing. Who the heck knows where I'll be in a year? (In case you're curious, the short list of contenders in my mind happen to be New York, LA, Somewhere in Maine, Paris, or unemployed in a tent in my parents back yard) (Some of those are based in reality, while some, clearly, are not.) Anyway, I feel like I've been blogging less because maybe the things that I am blogging about are 'lasts' and it makes me sad. Actually, delete that part in the last sentence where I say 'I feel like' and 'maybe' and replace them with 'I definitely have' and 'for sure.'

I've been falsely keeping myself distracted with overcast thoughts about my future with many things, but mainly these things:

Allegiant- the third in the Divergent Series of books by Veronica Roth. It all ended with Allegiant. I mean... the ending... I'm not going to ruin in... but woah. Didn't see it coming. Put me in a complete tailspin for a good 48 hours.
Running- I mentioned this before (I feel like I'm not really on top of my creative writing groove) but I've been pretending to like running for the last two months. I thought surely by now I'd be totally into it. But I'm so not. I'm going to keep doing it because I keep telling myself it has to be making some sort of difference (although I'm not convinced) but I don't have to like it.
Napping- what's new?
Homeland- this show is so good. It's the kind of good that makes you talk out loud to the TV screen and the characters when you're watching it alone in a room.
And then also- Turning my space heater on the 'oscillator' setting and just going to town for a few hours. Back and forth. Back and forth. This might come off as cocky, but I'm a pretty good starer.

No, but seriously about that whole Paris thing. Why the hell not? The only French word I know is 'Cronut' but I could pick it up pretty quickly, right? What are your guys' thoughts?

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Damn, shorty.


At the risk of sounding cocky, I looked good today. 

Nothing crazy. 

I didn't suddenly lose 15 lbs. overnight and, by magazine standards, my hair could stand to be a little less frizzy, but all-in-all, something was different. Something was working. 

These days don't happen often and so believe me when I say that I notice it just as much... actually, probably way more than the people around me do, but I can say, with pretty much, almost, no... definitely all confidence that today, things were clicking. And when these moments come skipping into your life with the ease and effortlessness of an 8 year old on a playground, you document the dang thing on your blog because who knows when the next time it is going to happen. 

Do you know what I'm talking about? I hope you do. I hope that you've been there with me sometime semi-recently because, I gotta say, gosh, it feels pretty nice. 

I don't want to put too much thought into it and have the feeling flutter away like when you try and remember detail for detail of a really good dream, but for my own reference, I'm just going to jot down a few key points of possibly influential factors for future cross-referencing in case this sort of cellularly imperfect, wonderful weather, perfect storm of confidence happens again. 
  • Rachel Comey Boots- snagged these puppies this summer with Spencer at a heavenly sample sale in a Soho Jewish Community Center gymnasium. It was a particularly hot day that I could've missed altogether if I hadn't done the responsible thing and ditched out on work. Can you imagine the loss? They might be the most important thing I own. Like, top 5 in a list of things your grab when your house is on fire. Ok, no. Top 2. And, in Lindsay's words, they really encompass the new style rapture that is what she has coined as "New Juj." For the record, New Juj is Old Juj. Which is to say exactly the same as I was before, but with new cool boots. 
  • Showering- This concept, I am just really coming to find after 22 years of denial, is truly not overrated. I still don't love it. Getting all wet... drying off... yesterdays mascara somehow dripping, but also cemented under my eyes... my wet feet picking up random stuff off the floor. Such a freakin' hassle, yamiright? I mean, I'm not going to paint a picture of myself as some disgusting, cesspool of germs, but I will say, I never realized how different one looks when one takes on the responsibility of showering every day vs. maybe, like, once every 2 (ok 3) days instead. I finally get it. You win, mom.  
  • "Running"- The increase in showering is due to a sudden and unprecedented increase in working out. Spurts like this tend to happen in my life where I get really into the gym just long enough to stop feeling like I'm going to puke by the time I finish working out, but then suddenly my tennis shoes start collecting dust and the whole thing just sort of goes away until the next season of Biggest Loser finishes and I feel guilted into working out again. But without jinxing myself, this gym crush has kind of stuck and I've been a bit more strategic and extremely dedicated to the idea of becoming a runner. Ugh. Typing that kind of makes me hate myself. It was my #1 cause and crusade in high school to be the anti runner out of my group of friends and really, anti working out in general (says the girl who gained a nice and sexy 15 lbs of cupcake weight at her after school job). But, I've been coming around to the idea lately. Anyway, for now, I put running in quotes, because my workouts are still a nice blend of jogging and heavy panting, but I think Dr. Oz was right all of those years-- a healthy Oprah is a happy Oprah.
  • A good critique- I could feel the winds of positivity blowing across my face even before I had class, but let's not dismiss the power and altogether major positive vibes a great critique on a project can give you. Actually, forget great critique. Let's give it up for just neutral critiques sometimes, right? Getting out of class alive without a laundry list of complaints and your dignity  still intact is a win these days, let me tell you.   
  • Rachel Comey Boots, Part II (Heels)- Let's revisit the boots because I don't think you're totally sold on their magical powers yet. Did I mention these boots have a heel? A big, old, chunky one that screams comfort while also managing to give me a little leg elongating action. I feel like a lady, but also a cool lady, ya know? 
  • Curly hair- Let's just say when you've got hair as unruly as mine, there are good days and there are bad days. Today: a good day. 
Other factors
  • Orange Dress, Navy Sweater
  • Justin Bieber's new song- Guys. This is going to sound crazy, but hear me out. I swear he is singing to me. 

*I considered documenting the thing in a picture but I didn't want to clear out the facade of amazingness by possibly stumbling on some bad lighting or an unflattering angle that my iPhone self-timer could easily achieve. Let's keep this moment in our minds full of smoke in mirrors and pink clouds and unicorns, yeah? Besides, who am I kidding. The peak of this moment has passed and I'm typing this post from my bed in sweats. These Lulu Lemons are a cruel mistress. 

Monday, October 14, 2013

Haig Point. Because I want to.

School can get stressful. Especially right before midterms when you get really slammed with work. But with weather still so nice around here, who has the time to sit inside all day and bury oneself in homework? When presented with the choice of working alone (on school projects that will eventually get done anyway) or twerking (figuratively and emotionally) with all of your best friends at a friend's grandparent's vacation home on a nearby island paradise, it's an easy choice to make. 
Other mid-quarter vacation justifying reasons include but are not limited to: Ferry rides. Golf carts. Porch swings. Sunsets. Laughing. Memories. Because it's senior year. Because I want to. Because the entire weekend cost me $1.50. Because anything that could hypothetically be 'the last time' makes me do crazy things. And because of delicious gluten free apple cake that you're allowed to eat at any time of day. Even though it's cake and you've just woken up about 7 minutes earlier. 

This sunset could've been enough. Seriously. Would've done it all. All over again. Just for the sunset. And the wind in m' face. 

Being near the water does wonders for some of us...                                                 (Spencer)


And then let's talk about the porches at Claire's grandparent's house. With their blue ceilings and their magical swinging chairs. I sat on that porch swing just long enough that I felt like I was still rocking as I was falling asleep later that night. Ahh, sweet, sweet, blissful vacation perks. It's the little things, ya know? 


Little hams. 

What's better than a porch swing? A porch BED. Especially one piled high and deep with friends and iced tea. My future self will look at this picture and wonder what 22 year old Julia and all of her young, cool, friends must've been talking about for hours. Well, let me tell you: The complexities of the iPhone game, Dots. Ex-boyfriend birthday card etiquette. What defines 'ex-boyfriend' in the first place. At what point in the day would it be appropriate to eat more apple cake. The hypothetical (or perhaps, not so hypothetical) possibility of running away and staying in Haig point FOR EH VER. Prunes. Throwing hot dogs down hallways and what that truly looks like. And then, of course, the ever-interesting and always reliable conversation starter trifecta of boys, weddings, and our looming futures. 

Lindsay and Susie joined us later in the weekend and so we all caravanned around the island to meet them at the dock when the ferry dropped them off. We were making quite the spectacle. Our excitement level (perhaps aided by the sugar rush we were running off of from all of the consumed aforementioned apple cake) was similar to that of a group of young brides awaiting the return of their husbands after a long deployment in the Navy circa WWII. 


Ahh. What a group. What a weekend. What golden sun upon yonder South Carolinian Island breaks. What a tragedy that it is now over. 

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Tommy T

Something about the combination of going to see the movie Gravity last night (so good!) and listening to that Keith Urban song on the radio about 'taking the bullet' left my headspace a little dark before I went to bed. I woke up this morning at the tail end of a trail of scary nightmares that I'm having a hard time shaking. And as if things coudn't get any creepier, a lightbulb went out in my room right as I finished typing that last sentence, leaving me alone, downstairs, in the dark. Cool.

I'm trying to think of something funny to read, or watch, or listen to just to get my mind off of child murder nightmares (where does my brain come up with this stuff?!) before I head off to the gym and the first and only thing my sleepy brain can think of is Tom Haverford YouTube clips.




 Signing off. Happy Tuesday.

Ok. It literally just started POURING rain outside. Should I just get back in bed and start this day over?

Monday, October 7, 2013

Late Summer

I'm more than ready for this 85+ weather to kick it. And have been making sure everyone in the whole entire world knows it. But until that happens, I will continue to bask in the memories of a summer so long, it couldn't help but completely change my life. 












Come on, Autumn. Show yourself. 


Friday, October 4, 2013

Dat Cabin Lyfe






I'm none too outdoorsy m'self, but I gotta say, lately the cabin life has been calling my name. I keep finding myself daydreaming about graduating college, finding an old cabin somewhere and fixing it up one quiet, tree surrounded, wanderlusty moment at a time. I mean, can you just imagine the Instagrams?! If I'm really going to be honest here, this idea has gone a little bit past daydreaming and into some really embarrassing google searches of stuff like 'Cool Maine cabin rentals' or 'Underrated American cities with lots of under-appreciated character' or 'Cabins for rent by owner, cheap' or 'What am I doing with my life?'

Seriously-- can't you totally picture me living in Maine, though? Living on crab bisque and a prayer? I'd drive something like a Wagoneer and I'd be a key player in the local book club thanks to my signature artichoke dip that I'd bring to all of the meetings. Maybe I'd even fall in love with a lobsterman.

As glorious as creaky, hard-wood floors, single paned window views of my very own meadow, and the image of me living off the land and not having to shave my legs/armpits/beard for months sounds right now, one must ask oneself: Are these constructive and creative plans for the future or would My-Side-of-the-Mountain-ing myself just be running away from real life?

Thursday, October 3, 2013

I've Taken a Lover


Guys. I have a confession to make. It's not easy for me to say.
But, you should know...



That I've been cheating on you.



With another writing source. To be more specific... a typewriter.


Please! ...Don't cry. Let me explain.

It was all innocent at first... about a month ago, my parents gave me a typewriter for my birthday (thanks, guys) but little by little, I found myself choosing to spend time with it instead of my computer. I was sharing things with this typewriter that I never shared with you all, on the blog-- an outlet that allowed me to truly be unedited, but in a practice that requires a much slower outcome. No deleting. One key at a time. A private collection of paper and ink. There's something just so magical about it-- the way that I can make mistakes and it doesn't judge me for it with a squiggly red line... the soft hum of acknowledgment it gives me as I type merrily away. Before I knew it, I'd fallen deeply, deeply in love.

Sometimes, you just get caught up in the moment and before you know it, you've done something you never thought you'd do. I never intended to hurt you, and this doesn't erase all of the great times and memories we've shared, but it's been three weeks and suddenly, things have gotten out of hand.

Anyway...

I'm not willing to give up on either of you just yet. I think we can make this new, modern, sophisticated, relationship work. It's going to take honesty. And sharing. But I feel like this will be good for us.

Now,  I know, this is all so hard for you to hear, but I just want you all to know that you've done nothing wrong-- it's not you, it's me. I know you might be having feelings of confusion, or betrayal, or anger. And I want you to know that it's ok to feel all of those things. Please, take your time to accept this. I feel we can grow stronger because of it.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Tech-No.

Do you ever have that overwhelming feeling of inspiration when you are bombarded with about five different blog ideas to write about and instead of just sitting down and dealing with it like a productive human being, you eat a bowl of leftover chicken noodle soup and then crawl into bed and decide to take a nap instead?

No?

Me neither.

But, if I ever did happen to meet someone with that problem, I'd tell them to suck it up, put off your snoozin' for about 30 minutes (**...but I'm so sleeeepy...**) and write the dang blog posts.

Ok. Here we go.

This post starts with a long winded backstory about my first piece of personally owned technology.

When I was in fourth grade, I decided I wanted my own camcorder. Remember those? Big, chunky things that all of my most treasured childhood memories are stored on? I really can't tell you why I was so enamored with them-- I thought the idea of recording every detail one's own life, especially a childhood as completely and totally unprecedented and unique as my own (not) needed to be recorded and what better way to do that than by beginning production of my own, personally directed, edited and recorded documentary. (Clearly, not much has changed. Hi, I'm Julia and welcome to my blog where I write short essays about myself.) All of the footage would be compiled and the movie would be called "Julia Patton: A Childhood Completely Different than You Ever Expected: The Story of a Young, Upper-Middle Class, White, Tween Who is Completely Misunderstood in a Wealthy Area of Southern California." Who wouldn't want to watch hours and hours of footage of a precocious young me talking about my feelings and emotions with featurettes about the different items in my room and cameo appearances by my parents, sister and special guest friends? It would be groundbreaking.

My parents wisely used my want for something as completely unnecessary as a camcorder to teach the valuable life lesson of working hard for the things you want and told me if I wanted it, I'd be buying it myself. So, for nearly 8 months, I saved every penny (literally), held bake sales in the dead, cold, bitter, California winter, sold candy at the neighborhood swimming pool, licked envelopes for my dad's company (which my parents paid me A NICKEL for each one I sealed... totally jipped on that one), and withheld all of my birthday and Christmas money from my grandparents just to raise the $249.99  (+ tax) that the Circuit City website promised was the rebate price for my dream camera.

I remember walking into the store with my mom after school one day with a shoe-box of ones and loose change, picking out the camera I had had my eyes on for so long and smiling ear to ear as the very annoyed, pimply, checkout boy counted out all of my money one hard earned nickel at a time. His negative Nancy attitude couldn't bring me down. I was giving him American Currency! That I had earned! Take it and be grateful, sir! Anyway, all that mattered was that I had the camera in my possession. My first piece of, beautifully packaged, plasticky scented, battery charged, unexplainable, but user friendly piece of technology. I loved it. And it loved me back. And although the documentary never really had the social impact I was aiming for, I was able to dedicate nearly two years of free time as a 9-10 year old to spending hours alone in my room talking to a camera on a tripod in what I fancied a real life confessional-- Real Housewives style.

My parents really know what they're doing because this whole gratification from one's own hard work concept really took off and worked on me and they repeated the technique over and over and over and over again throughout my life. After my camcorder came my first digital camera (used for many-a-jr. high selfie during after-school play-dates with friends making duck face), and then a pink iPod Mini, and then a RAZR cell phone (one of the last losers in my grade to get my own cell phone. How embarrassing) and then every new generation following. All earned and paid for by me. Let's hear it for part-time jobs at local bakeries!

Not to mention essentially the invention of social media during my formative tween/teen years. MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube (and the vast expansion of the internet, globally speaking) and, my personal favorite, Instagram all coming into play while I grew into a young adult. Techonology was booming and it was all mine for the taking! 

**I should take the time to mention that although my parents did not buy me these things and have taught me responsibility in regards to money from a very young age through when I turned 16 and paid for my own car, they were in no way overly encouraging of the of technology and closely monitored my activity for quite a while, like any good parent should. Specifically speaking, I wasn't allowed to use most social media until well into my first year of high school and, much to my shagrin, wasn't allowed texting on my phone until nearly the end of 8th grade (pretty late considering most of my friends had their first cell phones going into 6th grade) which, back then, felt like a social death sentence. My dad really held fast on that one-- not a huge fan of the idea of technology/texting himself, I even had to make large poster-boards, a powerpoint presentation and board-room pitch to my him to please, please, PLEEEEASE let me get texting on my phone. Eventually my parents relented, but it was only after strict and clear guidelines and expectations were set. Like I said, they're good parents.**

As I've grown up with technology, I am constantly in awe of it. I truly love these vehicles in which to communicate in new and interesting ways, not only for the ever-changing technology that they offered, or the convenience they added to my life, but also the beautiful and interesting packages they came in. Web layouts, buttons, lack of buttons, shiny screens, interesting features, software updates, wifi-- it's all like crack to me. 

And then there was this summer. I'm in New York-- and whether that city is your cup of tea or not, it is arguably one of the most interesting and fast moving cities in the entire world-- not only the hub of global technology, an almost constant stream of media and connection, but also of history, art, culture and opportunity. The entire city is, in some way, plugged in. But at what cost? I noticed how much of my day I spent looking at screens or ear buds embedded,  ignoring the entire world being offered around me. Technology when I woke up in the morning, technology when I walked to work, killing time at work, on my lunch-break, on my walk home, on the subway, when I got home, before I went  to bed plus any downtime in between, you could find me distracting myself with a small, 4 ounce, black brick of shiny plastic and metal. It offers a high speed connection to not only anything you'd ever want to know, but also every person in the entire world. But in my case, it was doing just the opposite. 

The more I thought about my own connection to connection, the more I was fascinated by it. I decided to use Facebook as my very first case study. Now, I'm the first to admit that I love a good status update, but why am I so obsessed with sharing my thoughts, pictures and interests with a group of 500 some odd people, most of whom I haven't seen or talked to in years? And why are those people interested enough in my life to 'like' a photo of my friends and me, but not to ever want to spend time with me in person? And why is it that this almost stalkerish viewpoint I have of the people I've grown up with, old and new friends, made me feel so bad about myself through comparison? I played with the idea of deleting my Facebook entirely. My first thought was 'Impossible.' Facebook has become so completely engrained in the thread of our day to day lives that the idea of deleting it meant losing my online calendar of birthdays and events, my breaking news ticker (relationship status and otherwise) and worst of all, my way of communicating my pithy stream of consciousness status updates with all of the people I had lost touch with over the years, therefore stating to the world that I had basically nothing to offer.  

I couldn't wait to try. 

The thought terrified me. But what scared me even more was that I was thinking that way-- little technology is ever really a human necessity (and in my case, it certainly isn't), but it seems to me that we have simply forgotten that mythical time way, way, way back before cell phones and social media when we had to plan ahead to make plans with friends or possibly miss out on something. Or call, leave a message, and wait patiently for our call to be returned. Or, if we really want to throwback Thursday this biotch,  let's talk about freaking writing a letter and waiting by the mailbox FOR DAYS to get one in return! 

So I deleted it.

The first time lasted about 14 hours before I logged right back in to see what I'd missed, only to find the answer to that question was that I'd missed absolutely nothing. 

The second time really stuck. I was Facebook free for about a month or so when I grew curious again of whether or not my extreme approach of deleting my account might have gone a little too far. After logging back in again, it took me all of about 3 hours to decide that my life without Facebook was lacking in nothing. And when I'd really thought about it, I'd noticed that I'd filled the time I would've spent on Facebook with things so much more fulfilling to me than scrolling through a news feed, hitting refresh on pages giving me too much information about someone's lunch or making judgements about people I barely knew. So I deleted it again and didn't look back. 

Since doing that, it has only greater enhanced my curiosity in regards to my own use of technology. I decided about a week ago to challenge myself again by completely turning off my phone every Tuesday. Last Tuesday was my birthday and I wanted to be able to talk to my friends and family so I decided today would be my first try at it and I've got be honest and say that it has been so. hard. Just like when I first got rid of FB, it was mostly just the habit of having something to look at that makes it difficult to give up. There have been dozens of times already today that I "needed" my phone for something and realized it's off limits. Group texting my roommates, taking a picture of something interesting, listening to music in my car, getting a hold of someone to make short notice plans, giving myself something to look at during a break in my lecture while the rest of the entire class is on their phones too... But I also sort of love it! It's allowed hours of uninterrupted work. It's kept me from getting distracted writing this very post. It's made me turn on the radio. It makes me walk upstairs to actually talk to my roommates instead of texting them from my room (what-- don't act like you've never done that). And to look around during class or talk to someone next to me instead of seeing what I've missed on my Instagram feed. There were moments today where I literally sat blankly, physically not  knowing what to do with myself without my phone. The thought crossed my mind that from now on, I'm going to start bringing a book around with me, which, I guess is the entire point of this whole shabangity post. 

This all may sound a bit hypocritical due to the fact that the only reason you are even here right now, reading my thoughts is through the power of technology, but I don't think it has to be so black and white-- so all or nothing. My thoughts in this post are not to demonize or condemn the use of technology, the conveniences, and, at the very least, fun that if affords, but to pose a challenge for myself in the motives and boundaries regarding my usage-- to question my behavior when technology isn't in the palm of my hand. Even last night as Frances and I made dinner, we talked about just how many crazy awesome things we had done in just the past two hours thanks to our phones and computers. We had found the recipe for our dinner, taken pictures, sent videos, skyped with someone states away like they were in the same room, looked up ingredients, made measurement conversions-- all wirelessly! And in seconds! I feel like freaking Zenon, Girl of the 21st Century!

But not on Tuesdays. Tuesdays are for powering down. 

These points are neither new or completely without flaw, and who knows how long this will stick, but for right now, I am having a great time challenging myself to cutting down on the tech, picking up a book a little more often or even being able to devote a bit of time to this post. It's an inconvenience. And that's what I'm most excited about. 

ps- email is where it's at. 

Thursday, September 26, 2013

I'm not going to say I'm feelin 22, but I'm not going to say I'm not either.

Tuesday was m' birthday and I turned a whopping 22! 

Yikes. 

My amazing friends lessened the 'yikes' a little bit by distracting me all day with my two favorite things: food and attention.  

We planned on going to one of the more hip bars in Savannah for happy hour drinks and appetizers, but when we showed up at 5:50 like a group of senior citizens (come on! It was a Tuesday and we have homework to do!), the bar was closed (this only adding to my extreme insecurity about being the lame kid at the bar. I'm still relatively new to this whole drinking game, ya know). So we went with Plan B, which stands for Plan BETTER, and ended up having drinks and LOTS of cheese on the rooftop of one of my favorite restaurants in Savannah, Local 11 Ten

It was quiet and a warm Savannah breeze made it a perfect autumn evening. 




Ever the life of the party, Oli insisted that we ring in 22 with some Tequila. I'm really glad I did if for no other reason than the fact that I now have this picture of all of us that I absolutely love. 

(Once again, not the coolest drinker. That face. Really? Don't be such a baby, Patton.)

These gals sure know how to make a girl feel special. They all went around and affirmed me (before the shots), which made me feel like a million bucks and reminded me once again how extremely and ridiculously blessed I am to live here and have such cool, smart, fun, kind friends. I mean, I don't know if I've mentioned that on here before, but they're the tops. 

I'm glad I picked them. Just kidding.

A little earlier in the day, I even got a little sad, quiet and annoying thinking about the fact that this is my last birthday here in Savannah with all of these dweebs. I remember my very first birthday here four years ago, just a few weeks after I moved in. I barely had any friends and Spencer was going to be out of town for my birthday which basically cut down my friend group by about 65% right off the bat.  Remember this post? I sound so positive! "The Girl Who's Ready for Anything!" Come on, Julia. I feel ok telling you now that I was definitely totally lying. I felt lonely and wondered if Savannah would ever feel like home. Since then, I've had some of the best birthdays in my entire life (20) (21) thanks to these people and their (forced) understanding of the fact that I need birthday affection like Noah needs Allie. What will I do next year? Who will perform a choreographed dance for me at 6:00 in the morning to Birthday Sex? Who will help me pick out my birthday outfit? Who will make me do a shot, but also understand my very real fear of alcohol poisoning and won't push me to do more? Who will take pictures of me being all cute and birthday-ie without me having to ask? Who will talk me off the ledge when I'm freaking out about turning 23!? 

What an disaster adventure it will be. 

I'm going to go now emotionally eat the remainder of the chocolate soufflĂ© Susie made me. 






(WHO WILL MAKE ME CHOCOLATE SOUFFLÉ NEXT YEAR?)

(PS- Cliche or not, this is basically an exact description of how I feel about life right now. "Happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time." Swifty knows.)

22


I went to bed last night at 10:30 sharp.
I've set my alarm for 6:00 every morning this week.
I'm eating oatmeal for breakfast in a bowl that I can flip completely upside down with nothing coming out.
My bed is already made for the day and, as far as I know, no ones parents are going to be in town.
And I'm going to the gym to run on the treadmill.

This is 22.

Monday, September 23, 2013

Urbanna Farm

As research for my senior collection (which, I promise, I really am going to explain in a overly detailed, run on sentence riddled, mostly confusing blog post very soon) I got to go visit a very special place a mere 20 minutes away from my home in Savannah called Urbanna Farm

Our friend, Eliza, who we met three years ago when she lived in our old house before we did, and her husband Matt recently moved onto the farm to work, experience and learn from a fully sustainable family run farm with the farmer's themselves, an awesome family, the Williams. I hadn't talked to Eliza in a while, but I texted her and basically invited myself into their lives to observe for a few hours, what it essentially, a huge building block in the basis of my senior project: farm life. 

When Frances, Spencer and I headed out to their home on Friday and pulled into a dirt driveway and the Williams' smiling faces, I just couldn't have been more excited. 

Eliza greeted us and gave us a tour and, guys... guys... their farm was the coolest. Baby pigs, mama pigs, chickens, a rooster (that we named Rufus), rabbits, goats, herbs, SWEET POTATOES, tree frogs, tractors, and open... space... ahhh. It was glorious. 

I took a bunch of pictures (mostly of the chickens) and lingered around their property until it was obvious that we were stalling and just wanted to hang out. The entire drive home, I would not shut up about how cool that was and how inspired I felt about the coming year. And it almost made me want to quit this whole fashion mess and become a farmer! (I said almost). What a rewarding life that must be. 











MEMBERS OF THE WONDERFUL URBANNA FARM: 
IF YOU ARE READING THIS, I WILL BE BACK. 

Saturday, September 21, 2013

One week down


I started my senior year of college this week. That sentence is something that I don't think I quite understand the gravity of yet. I, 21 year old Julia who sometimes still forgets to put on her deodorant in the morning, who still has some clothes in her closet from Jr. High, who hasn't quite dropped that habit of inserting the word 'like' into the unnecessary parts of my sentences, started my very last, very most, veryest, year of college. This week. I mean, we all get how weird that is, right?

I remember being at church one day when I was a little kid, maybe five or six,  and a college aged family friend was back in Newport visiting for the weekend. Everyone was so excited to see her and asking her tons of questions or just telling her how old and mature she looked. I remember thinking that I wanted to be her. And how it looked like she must just be on cruise control for the rest of her perfect, college aged life. So, spoiler alert: I was one million percent wrong. This week (and, let's get real here, the last four years) has been a huge boiler room of alarms going off, screaming at me about things that I'm unprepared about, questions I can't answer, problems I can't fix and a deadline of real life getting uncomfortably close to becoming my life. 
If you've read this blog for more than five minutes, this isn't news to you. I'm a planner. A list-maker. A worrier. An over analyzer. A challenger. And, according to the Meyer's Briggs test I took the other day an ISTJ (there is major debate within my roommates whether I doctored my answers to make the test say I was an introvert-- it's not secret that I think that introverts are supremely superior to extroverts). But guess what else I am? A hard worker. A trooper. A talker. A problem solver. And an introvert (I love the new introverted me). So why is it so hard for me to come to terms with the fact that the next year, and probably next handful of years, is probably, definitely, most certainly going to be uncomfortable, hard and I'm sure in some moments, down right bad, but that I can do it? Everyone does it! You have to do it! And that I just need to shut up about it! 
BECAUSE I CAN'T. As cool as the introverted, arty girl persona is to me (and how fascinating people like that are in an almost zoo-like, observation driven obsession) I won't ever be able to be that person. Suffering in silence is not my bag. Sitting in the corner and being shy would just be such a missed opportunity for people to laugh at my jokes. And not asking people a million questions just leaves me itching to hear what their answers would have been if I had asked. Like the embarrassment of going bra shopping in third grade, a whole two years before most of my twiggy friends, I'm accepting it and moving on. 
SO WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?
  1. This year is gonna suck some days. But it is my life's goal right now to make it also a happy celebration of four years of living with my best friends during what are, arguably, the best years of my life so far. (This may sound dramatic, but this is where I'm coming from, people.) 
  2. I'm gonna complain. I'm allowed to complain. I promise that I'll work on cutting it down a whole lot. But it's going to happen. And it's going to happen on this blog. And when it does, can we all just give me some slack? Because I think sometimes I find that people need to complain. Or maybe just I do. 
  3. There will be a lot of therapeutic soup making.
  4. I might regret this later, but I am stating now that I am more willing to make sacrifices on my senior project (and perhaps the integrity of my gpa) to be able to enjoy what is left of this golden blink called college. 

But this is what has happened so far in just the first 7 days. And I gotta say... so far, so good. 

Frances and I drove from Dallas to Savannah. I always love this time. That drive never really gets old for me. (Besides when I'm actually doing it... I could do without actually doing it. But besides that, I really like it.)

And then we went out to Abe's to ring in the new year with Lindsay, Kara, and Oli. I can say with full confidence that this is my favorite bar in Savannah. Some may say that we're locals. 


And then I hit the ground running on my senior project. You better believe that I have a whole lot to say about this senior project. A whole lot. I'm going to be saying so much, in fact, that I'm going to dedicate a whole darn post on it. So stay tuned. 


Frances and I are taking a class together for the first time since the beginning of freshman year. (Remember this video?) We barely knew each other then and the class wasn't very good. Now I know Frances way better and this class is going to be amazing so I can appreciate it more when Frances does things in class that I think are funny.
And we hosted our first dinner party of the year last night. Claire made her delicious and famous pork tenderloin. Spencer made mashed potatoes. Frances made asparagus. Oli got the napkins out. I made carrots. I really like these people. 

See what I mean? No stress yet. 

But I promise you that it's coming. And don't say I didn't warn you. 

I've been having a hard time blogging lately, and I feel like I haven't been writing well. Take, for example, this entire post. I am about to post this, but I don't really feel like I've actually said anything at all. Sentence structure fails me and my thesis is non existent. You guys still love me when my writing sucks though, right?