A Happening

I'm going to bed earlier and drinking lots of water. 

I'm watching less reality TV and sweeping more. 

I'm working out and choosing to only eat one piece of bread out of the basket. 

I've stopped shopping at Forever 21 and I only buy things I really really really like. 

Like, even if something is on sale, I usually don't buy it.

And I really like sales. 

I'm thinking before I'm speaking. 

I'm pausing before I'm blogging. 

I'm washing my face before I go to bed and sometimes I wear ear plugs.

I make eggs for breakfast and I'm eating almonds. For fun. 

I'm going to the library and I'm listening to less pop music. 

I'm having conversations with friends over cocktails about graduation and weddings. 

And the once blooming bush in the front yard is dying after only a week and it is making me so sad that I try not to look at it when I walk up to the porch. 

Something weird is happening and I'm not sure what it is or if I like it. 

I don't know what this all means for you, and I don't quite know what it means for me either, but it deserves attention. 

College

Just saw this and it  made me laugh.

Especially today after getting about 4 hours of sleep last night.

Can't. Stop. Yawning.

Can it be Thursday yet?

Accomplishments of a 21st Birthday:

Got Susie to eat at Chik Fil A.

Hugged a lot of people who mean a lot to me.

Released myself from the clutches of thinking even for one minute about homework.

Bought a whole entire brand new (to me) skirt at Goodwill for $3.75.

Changed my outfit 5 separate times.

Went to a liquor store, showed the good man my ID, and passed with flying colors.

Got my record player working in proper condition.

Successfully satisfied my party guests with the huge expectations of what I promised would be "the greatest party favor OF YOUR LIFE. I REPEAT: OF YOUR LIFE."

Took a shot and didn't spit it out everywhere.

Didn't get drunk. (Contrary to popular belief, this is not 21st birthday failure. No, my good sir. This is in fact an accomplishment.)

Responded to every "Happy Birthday Julia!" post on my Facebook wall because I'm just a total nerd like that.

Don't even have a hangover.

What up, world? I'm 21 now. And nothing has changed.

(More pictures to come later)

Cool Chicks

I love everything about this photo of Smith College students making a Victory Garden.

Can college moments like these please last forever?

Can I please garden in oxfords and tweed? 

And can it please be fall already!?

What's everyone doing today? Come on. Jump in. Take the plunge. Comment! You know you want to!

Photograph by Fred G. Chase. 1943.

Back

Oh, dears. It's been a while. 

The cable guy paid a visit to our house today and we are now up and running with super fancy cable and Wifi in our house. 

I was trying to avoid complaining about not having internet/tv for the last couple of days because really, I never want to be that dependent on something so trivial. In a way, I was enjoying being  able to be somewhat unplugged for a bit, but I have to say, I am excited that it's back because I've had so much to blog about  ever since saying goodbye to KP on Friday at the airport. This little Bushka has been quite busy. 

The weather in Savannah is uncharacteristically wonderful for this time of year and I can already feel fall sort of rolling in. But, maybe it's mostly in my head because it still is about 85 degrees out here.  (It's because I'm just soooo sick of shorts. For goodness sakes!)

Lately there has already been plenty of cooking and eating and unpacking and exploring and laughing and hugging. 

Can you tell if I'm happy to be back or not? 

So far, this quarter is living up to it's great potential-- and it's only day 5!

This is what I need:

Bras. I accidentally just dropped all of mine off at the laundromat.
I was wearing my bathing suit, if your wondering about the logistics.
I was wearing my bathing suit because all of my bras were dirty.
Was this story an over-share?
Lightbulbs. The second out of three lightbulbs just quit on me. This small room is feeling extra moody right now.
Scratch that.
I'd prefer natural light. In my room. In the kitchen. In the living room. In the hallway. This small room is feeling extra depressing right now.
Dinner.
Food to prepare dinner.
Money to buy food. Do you see where I'm going with this?
That dress that I didn't buy at the flea market this Sunday.
I had already started regretting it an hour after I said goodbye to it.
Why didn't I go back? Drat.
That's right. I didn't go back because I was saving money for my fictitious dinner. Double drat.
To stop buying clothes.
To write my bio for this blog. It's on the New Bushka To-Do List.
Yes, this list exists and is constantly growing with wonderful new ideas.
Get someone to write my bio for this blog.
Takers?
I want a bio as good as Kaitlin Patton's Facebook bio. But more factually based.
To watch the Bachelorette.
But I have to watch it on Hulu. More like BOOOOlu.
To wake up early enough in the morning to watch the two hours of the Bachelorette while also giving myself more than 2 minutes to get ready before I need to leave. Cough cough. This morning. Cough.
To stop watching The West Wing until 2 minutes before I need to leave in the morning.
To stop watching The West Wing.

No, but seriously though, I need to figure out this bra situation. I have work in the morning. 

On the other hand: YOLO.  

Move to Scranton.

Move to Palo Alto. 

Stop buying books and actually start reading books.
Call Tamara.
Call Dionna.
Google to find out if I can call someone in the UK.
Call Maggie.
Move to England.
Find a way to come to terms with the fact that I have a negative reaction to caffeinated coffee.
Convince myself it's not embarrassing to order decaf.
Convince myself that this does not make me a weaker person.
Burn the paper I wrote last quarter about how cool drinking adult coffee makes me feel.
A little excitement.
A little regret.
A little perspective.
Someone to take at least one cool picture of me this summer. Sorry, mom and Kait's. You tried.
A pet butterfly. Name it Margery. {See what I did there}
Only use {these} from now on and never use (these) again.
To make something.

To make a pie.

To make eggs.

To make lasagna.

To eat an avocado.

To eat dinner.

About 84% of this applies:

A Letter To My College-Age Self

JUL. 3, 2012

By ALEXANDRA GEHRINGER 

Live. Wildly, recklessly, and with as much passion as you can muster. Make out with your RA during Freshman Orientation. Accept one last drink from the cute guy behind the keg at the frat house basement. Stay out after the bars close. Make friends with the cab drivers. Lay in the middle of the street laughing with your best girls. Watch the Notebook at 3 a.m. when you're all drunk and have a good cry over failed relationship attempts. Get up on the damn stage and sing some freakin' karaoke already. 

Recognize the true moments. Wake up in the middle of the night for the first snow of the season and watch the city turn white with your roommates. (You might even want to put on John Mayer’s underrated, though classic, “St. Patrick’s Day” and sway arm in arm while singing along.) Find “your” desk in the library. Watch Grey’s Anatomy every week because you never know when a good thing can turn bad (hint: third season). Sit on top of the washing machines and have life chats with that random girl from upstairs. She’ll end up being one of your best friends.

Be careful. Don’t use that fake ID you found on the sidewalk. You don’t look 28 and you’re certainly not a Pacific Islander. Observe Cinco de Mayo, but be cautious of the tequila… that one doesn’t end well for you. No private planes, no matter what. Study. All the men you’ll ever date will have the same name — run now from the first one in a curious line of many. Get mad, but don’t stay mad. Shopping isn’t always the answer.

Let yourself off the hook. So you sleep through your first exam of college. So you crush on a gay guy for an entire semester. So you have a blowout with your roommates. So you eventually do sing on karaoke night and it’s a train wreck. So you throw up Chipotle and Jose Cuervo on the basket of shoes under your bed. So you spend all your money. So you get a D+ in Italian. So you got on that plane.  So you dated him.

Go to class. Call your mother. You’ll be fine.

This is what Tuesday sounds like:

Last night was happily spent at my new favorite coffee shop, Foxy Loxy. Are you sick of me gushing about this place yet? It's $2 lattes and ample work space have quickly made it one of my most frequented Savannah hang outs. Other pros include the fact that it is across the street from the Savannah Public Library, caddy corner from Arnold Hall, down the lane from one of my favorite lunch spots (Butterhead Greens) and within walking distance of my house.

Besides their delicious (and no frills) coffee drinks, they also have a refreshingly unique take on cafe food. They offer everything from Tex Mex (churros and queso) to an artisan cheese and fruit platter (I tried it for the first time tonight).

Frances, Claire and I were extremely productive and as I snacked on my goat cheese and apple slices, I couldn't help but be distracted at the extreme goodness of the evening. I cannot imagine being at a more well suited college for my taste. Literally surrounded with great friends and "burdened" with homework of reading and thinking about subject matter that I absolutely love-- I am so blessed.

I'm such a goon. 

Just as we were wrapping up, a black hatted man with a guitar grabbed a chair and set up shop in from of the fireplace. Immediately, I thought of Alta in Newport and the musicians that would play on any given night. With his wiry goatee and semi-scrawny stature, I expected a singer/songwriter, Ray Lamontagne-esque voice to come out of his mouth... something soothing and thoughtful in such a quiet atmosphere. 

As he started to sing, I started to laugh. I had forgotten a key component to the Alta atmosphere-- Rule number 1: The voice you are about to hear will not be the voice you expect. 

Please enjoy this video of (through further investigation) Ray from local band Bottles and Cans singing his soulful heart out.

Olivia

IT IS HERE.

As I mentioned the other day, I finally sat down with Olivia to ask her a few questions, have a ball of laughs and complete what has come to be one of my absolute favorite things I've ever done on this blog-- the getting to know you interviews. 

As you all can probably tell by any of my blogging having to do with roommates so far this year, Olivia is the absolute best. Even though her moving in with us was pretty much the start of our friendship, I literally already have grown so close to her and cannot imagine this year without her. Olivia is an insanely talented artist, terribly smart and a positively kind person.

I'm going to stop myself before I make the video completely pointless and give all the spoilers away, but let me just give a quick shout out to her budding photography skillz because you should all go check out her Flickr to see how legit she is-- and to get a good laugh at me trying to channel my inner faery (Didn't you hear? I'm a model now). 

Oh! And also-- let me just make a quick comment on the length of the videos. Sometimes, when people come up to me on the street and recognize me from the blog I make my friends watch the videos I make, one of their first questions is why in the world is this video so stankin long? Well, young squire, my answer is this: Because I like it that way. When these videos are first recorded they sometimes are up to an hour long (you know how girls are-- we just can't seem to stop gabbing about makeup and boys and cleaning supplies and what not). That means I have to cut out 45 WHOLE MINUTES of interview gold to really get down to the real hard hitting stuff that interview legends are made of. Therefore, a 15 minute video is really like a small glimpse in comparison to what I could be making you losers watch. Basically, what I'm trying to say is... be grateful. And just watch the whole thing! Everything Olivia says is super interesting, I promise. And if not for her, watch it for the eye candy on the left. I hear she's single and ready to mingle.