Another Day, Another Year

Today is my birthday–my 18th birthday, to be specific.

 

I spent the entire day running errands with my dad last Friday, and he told me, “Youth is wasted on the young.” 

It took me a bit to figure out what that meant, but I have realized that we are given so many things to do, but at a young age, we have no idea what do with these opportunities. We grow older and finally understand how to take advantage of the given opportunities, but we are no longer able to do the things we could have.

Within my seventeenth year, I have met and gotten to know some of the most amazing people in my life. I have fallen in love, and fallen into heartbreak. Writing reflective college essays have helped e gain more knowledge about myself, and deciding where I am attending is beginning to define me.

I honestly don’t feel much different compared to yesterday, except for the fact that I can now do things that I don’t really feel the desire to do.

Birthdays aren’t really anything to be celebrated, in my opinion, since we’re celebrating another year closer to death (not to be morbid), but I’m also not afraid of death. I’m more afraid of missing out on wonderful people, experiences, and memories.

Sign My Yearbook?

I just finished my last full week of high school–ever. With that, I had my last government test, my last biology class, my last chapel. These are things that I will probably not miss.

Every day in journalism class this past week I reminded my teacher that these would be the last times I’d be squishing my peanut butter sandwiches in front of her (it’s an old habit that will probably never die…).

taken from Instagram

The last yearbook I’ll ever work on or write articles for.

I suppose it hasn’t quite sunk in that I’m graduating high school in a mere two weeks. That I’ll be finishing my classes in less than five days. After spending four years with the same 32 people, we’ve become a large, somewhat dysfunctional, family. So when it comes to yearbook signing, how can I sum up the past four years, or longer for some of my closer friends? As someone who loves to write, I tend to pen the more lengthy entries….but there are always some common ones I see when I sign yearbooks.

H.A.G.S.

“Have a good summer.” – Probably the most generic, over-used, unemotional, phrase one could use in a yearbook signing. I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing to write. But honestly? Why write that in someone’s yearbook taking up some perfectly good writing space rather than signing your name or not at all? I suppose that’s just a personal opinion though.

“You’re great, don’t ever change.”

Yes, I did grow up watching Lizzie McGuire. My friends and I were talking about it last week, referring to the final episode of the brilliant Disney Channel Series about what every single person would write in another’s yearbook (apparently that was the 2000′s version of “HAGS”). How our hopeless romantic of a best friend pondered deeply about what to write to the girl he was in love with. Sigh.

“Oh my gosh we HAVE to hang out this summer.” 

Well, this typically happened to me…and was normally from other girls I knew. Of course, I always ended up being busy, out of town, or I didn’t really hang out with the girl in the first place, and I never actually hung out with her. Oh well, can’t say we didn’t consider it.

What I miss the most is when I look back at my yearbook from kindergarten or first grade. I had things that said, “Dear Dale I like the har duos that your mom fisis – Delaney” in a nice teal-ish blue marker, or “Dear Dale I like you Love [insert kindergarten classmate's name here].”

Of course, there were my friends who acknowledged my artistry, “Dear dale you are niss I like you I like yoor colering love charlie.” and “Dear Dale you do cool pichers from Stathi.”

…apparently I only had six friends in kindergarten not including my teachers who loved me enough to signed my yearbook.

I don’t really look at past yearbooks and see what people write too often, only when I’m feeling sentimental. But it really is nice to see how much my classmates and I have grown over the years, how much we’ve changed within the span of year. I guess now all I have to do before I leave the carpeted hallways of my school is run around shoving my yearbook and a pen or permanent marker into my friends’ arms screaming, “SIGN MY YEARBOOK.”

California Dreamin’

As mentioned in the last post, I traveled to Los Angeles. Well, I’m actually still here. Since I’ve only been to LA truly once before this time (I don’t include the 8 hours I was here for college visits), it’s been quite an adventure.

While I’ve been here I have done some shopping and rediscovered my weakness for shoes…..luckily, I restrained myself from buying any (since I already bought two pairs online). Of course, that didn’t stop me from shopping anywhere else. I have never intended on becoming a fashion blogger, but maybe sometime I’ll start giving my personal shopping advice every now and then.

What I love about traveling to large cities is that consignment shopping and thrifting is never missing. Those are probably my favorite ways to shop. I find great pieces for a fraction of the original price, and I love to restyle things. Fellow college students with limited funds: Stores like Crossroads, Goodwill, and cheaper thrift stores are honestly your best friends. You may have to get around the fact that something you buy in these stores have been used a few times (sometimes brand new), but if you’re smart, you’ll get something with good quality and conditions.

I love shopping, and I really need to stop, because it can sometimes be a problem (at least I think so)…

But anyway, the actual reason I took a weekend getaway to LA is to visit the wonderful University of Southern California in which I will be attending. I can’t lie: Every minute I was getting more excited. I met some amazing people, the atmosphere is warm and welcoming, and I just see myself there more and more. I’m happy to say that today I officially committed to USC.

Ringing the Victory Bell declaring my enrollment.

Can you believe it?! I could go on and on about why I chose the school, how much I love it, or how I didn’t expect to get in at all, but I wouldn’t want to bore you.

Of course, my mommy’s secretly thinking, “My baby’s growing up so fast!” and my dad’s saying out loud, “I knew this was the school for you the moment we stepped onto campus last year. But NO, you didn’t see yourself here, Dale.” My dad likes to take credit for guiding me towards a lot of the things I have accomplished (i.e. “I gave you your first camera, Dale. That plastic Barbie one.”).

I honestly can’t contain my excitement about starting my college career. It’s hard to fathom, really.

With that being said, Fight On.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

The title of this article could only be a reference to David Bowie.

It’s beginning to hit me that my life is about to shift. Within the past busy few weeks, I have been to Chicago with my senior class, signed up for AP exams, gotten blue highlights in my hair, and traveled to Los Angeles. Not to forget that my high school classes are finishing up in about three weeks(!!!). Thank the Lord.

When I went to Chicago, I spent eight hours on a bus with my classmates (mainly sleeping), saw Second City, partied on a boat, saw a White Sox game, and shopped like I was on a mission. The last night we spent there, a majority of us hung out at the hotel pool, and eventually later had ourselves a little pow wow in the courtyard (only to be later harassed by a very, very drunk man, and our principal).

It’s moments like these that I remind myself how blessed I am to have such amazing people around me. Given that I don’t spend my time with all of them, they’re still an amazing group. With a class size of thirty two students, we always see each other–sometimes more than we’d prefer–no matter what. We get tired and annoyed with each other, but in the end we really are a large family. I’ve grown up with over half of my class, and the others I feel as though I’ve known them just as long.

I find it strange to think about how I’m almost done with my entire high school career. “Go the Distance” from Disney’s Hercules has become my theme song as I make my largest attempts at putting efforts into my schoolwork.

I seem to have lost my point in this post…but anyway, I am not the person I was at the beginning of the school year. I’d like to think I’ve become a better writer, or at least more distinguished in my style.

 

Yours truly,

Dale

Moo and Me

I grew up reading comic books, thanks to my dad, I was exposed to the likes of Batman and Spiderman (with the addition of one old comic book about Underdog from my uncle). While legendary superheroes caught my attention, the only comic that has always stayed on my mind is Calvin and Hobbes.

For some strange reason, up until the age of maybe eleven, I always mixed Calvin for Hobbes…but nevertheless, I truly related to Calvin–the boy. Hobbes was the best friend that any child could ask for. Of course, truth be told Hobbes only existed in the mind of a little boy.

When I think of imaginary friends, I like to convince myself that I had one. I vaguely remember writing “Dale and MooMoo” in purple chalk with large capital letters on my front sidewalk. I honestly do not remember what Moo looked like, but I can certainly tell you that he/she/it was NOT a cow, despite the name (for those who are wondering the name came from my stuffed animal that did not come to life).

As an only child, Moo was always there for me, especially when my few neighborhood friends couldn’t hang out with me. I never talked to Moo nor set up a spot for Moo at my play picnic table. Moo was simply there. The presence of my imaginary friend was enough to make me feel less alone in my single-digit-hood days.

We would travel to outer space as I lied out on the roof of my clubhouse, march through the desert when I had a towel on my head, or my personal favorite, draw pictures with chalk on my driveway. I had endless possibilities each hot summer day, and who knows what I did in the winter. Moo and I only hung out in the summer. It was the time of my life.

Eventually, like every other kid, I began to grow up. The thought of MooMoo was slowly fading as I reached my tweenage years. I eventually stopped thinking about Moo. Nowadays I like to think that Moo was the part of my mind that gave me all of my ideas, the conscience that encouraged me in things.

Maybe you had an imaginary friend that was simply there for you like Moo, or a creature that you believed was actually invisible. I’d like to think that Moo is still around in some shape or form (no, not my love for the couture designer Miu Miu), but if I’m not talking to Moo every single time I get road rage, I may have to question my sanity for a moment or two.

Tweet Tweet!

Honestly, I don’t really understand why I have a Twitter account. Before I actually got a Twitter account, I thought the entire thing was pointless. It was initially intended to let others know what one is doing, yes? So why on earth would I want to announce to my friends “I’m doing laundry in my basement.”?

Yes, I tweet on an almost daily basis, but I could probably go about with my life if I never had one as well. Of course, I like to post things such as “I really like the word squiggle,” or on some occasions, I will contribute to the more philosophical statements like the quote, “That’s what Love is. Attention to detail.” But let’s get realistic here: the majority of my “tweets” are in all actuality, the current thought I have in that specific moment of time. Really, it’s almost like reading my thought [edited] process.

Last fall I finally caved and got myself the account. My friends had mentioned that they prefer Twitter over Facebook, since there isn’t quite as much going on, and it appears to be more personal–especially since most people only allow people they want following them. Over time, I have accumulated knowledge of the following:

Passive Aggressive Tweet (noun): The process of letting angry thoughts out by complaining about something or someone via Twitter. If you happen to have a Twitter account, you may know what I’m talking about. The rule is simple: You can say what you want as long as you keep it ambiguous (that being said, there is always the possibility that people will actually know what you’re referring to).

I can honestly say that one of my favorite parts of having a Twitter is watching my friends share their road rage, annoyances, or anger towards a large organization like fast food restaurants. It is quite entertaining, to say the least.

Subtweeting (verb): The act of reacting to one person’s tweet, without mentioning that person. This is also a bit entertaining to watch the interactions bounce back at each other.

Hashtag (noun): Actually I don’t have a definition for “hashtag” because I still don’t quite understand the concept of them. I suppose you can categorize your tweets through these, or give an idea of what exactly you’re tweeting about without actually tweeting about it, or you can be like me and hashtag whatever the heck you want. But you must remember: Hashtags are for Twitter, and Twitter only.

Let’s just verify that Twitter is not simply used for the aforementioned concepts, but also to have an idea of what others are up to (NOT stalking, might I add). Or as I said, it is a form of sharing thoughts, because God forbid we constantly update our statuses (stati?). But honestly now, no one enjoys someone updating his or her status every single day.

The Great, The Okay, and the Not-So-Pretty

As you may or may not know, I am a high school senior. With it being second semester as well as the space of time where a majority of colleges send out admission decisions to eager students like me, I have seen it all.

At the beginning of my senior year, I decided I was going to apply to a total of 8 schools. Initially there were 9, but when working on the application, i found no good reason for me to go to school there. Thus, I removed that university from my list. My mental rankings were listed in my head respectively; as schools sent out their decisions, my brain had a black Sharpie running a straight line through the names of schools, a star for the good news, and a “?!” for a “WTF” effect.

I was not that senior who experienced heartbreak, but only the slightest of disappointments. A few denies, and one wait-list, I was beginning to feel that I would end up going to one of my back-up schools. Of course those feelings were overpowered by the good news of getting into two of my top choices of universities! I always told myself when regarding admission to specific colleges, “If it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen.” And that is exactly how it went. The schools who admitted me were not necessarily my top choices, but after deeper thought, I realized that these two schools are the most perfect fits for me and what I want to study (which is journalism, by the way).

Now is the time to actually make the decisions. One of my favorite things during high school was always hearing the announcements of where each senior class was going. It’s so strange to think that I am at this point now. In a mere six and a half weeks, it’s going to be me and my classmates walking across the stage, moving the little tassel from one side of the cap to the other. The last moment where my school’s Class of 2012 will be together as a whole–one single unit.

But before I begin to get too sentimental before the necessary moment, it’s incredible to see where my friends are sending their deposits, whether or not they’ll be leaving our hometown, or our state.

I don’t plan on announcing where I will enroll over my blog, but simply know that wherever I choose to go, it was meant to happen.

Hungry Yet?

That’s right: I am attending the midnight premier of the much-anticipated Hunger Games movie. Not only can I write an extremely well-worded bias review on Suzanne Collin’s novel, but I can also elaborate my long love for the ever beautiful Josh Hutcherson (ohmygawd he’s SOOOOO CUTE, iknowright?!). Yes, that was me attempting to be funny…I apologize. But quite honestly, the boy stole my heart when I first saw him in Little Manhattan.

I digress. I am currently sitting against my best friend’s magazine-paged/poster-lined wall while we wait until we feel that it is necessary to go to our theater without waiting in a line for so long our legs become numb. Thankfully she lives next to a theater that tends to be deserted on a regular basis…

After being awake since 6:30 this morning and going through the mentally strenuous routine known as “school,” I have to admit that I am feeling just a teensy bit drowsy. Nonetheless, I will power myself through that movie, because I was absolutely infatuated with the book (which I read in a day, might I add). Of course, Josh Hutcherson’s beautiful face will probably keep me staring at the screen the entire time.

With school, I have finally reached the fourth quarter of my senior year. This is epic. Senioritis practically consumed my entire mind, and I can begin to see the sliver of light at the end of the tunnel. Phew. Of course at the end of this metaphorical tunnel is graduation! It is so strange to see how fast everything really does go.

Perhaps I should head off now. I can guarantee that every time I see Josh Hutcherson on the screen, my mind will be whispering, “I can’t wait for our wedding together.”

 

Mourning for the Healthy Life

I am extremely irritable at the moment. The moment I got home I didn’t want to have a conversation with my parents, my mother started dropping off things inside my room for me to put away, my room is already a mess, and to top it all off, my cat is meowing in attempt to get my attention. The only thing I muttered was, “Get the heck away from me,” and moved on. I want to scream.

The only thing is, I can’t. Not without bringing myself to possible tears. My throat, well, it feels like it’s on fire. As well as my throbbing headache, and earache, I can’t help but want to be alone, right?

That’s right: I’m sick, and running around my house trying to somewhat rid my room of the crap that my mom added, I’m out of breath, and all I want to do is lie down. Not to mention my eyes are straining. My mother was trying to have small-talk with me by reminding me of Daylight Savings Time…and my failed attempts of ending the conversation just made her a bit angry (but she understood, given my current health condition).

Oh, a few minutes ago I ran downstairs screaming, “DAD I NEED COUGH DROPS!!!!!” almost in tears due to bag of the things next to my pillow went missing (they fell in between my mattress and headboard…but at least now I have twice the amount!).

Of course I don’t mean to be so…demanding and short with my parents and cat. I just want to back to my healthy self and be amiable. I am currently under my covers with my laptop scanning in and moving photographs to my external hard-drive. I’m too weak (of course I’m exaggerating) to even sit at my desk. Popping cough drops like candy, bottles of ibuprofen and water on my nightstand, this is exactly how I want to spend my Saturday night…….

I honestly can’t remember when I was this miserable health-wise, and man, I have to admit how much I love that I don’t have illnesses like some of my friends do and miss what seems like a gazillion days of school (and to be honest, I don’t like missing important educational information). So stay healthy, I’m sure none of you attempt to be sick for no reason. It’s all I want to be right now.

On the plus side, I got to take some awesome pictures today.

Britt

Toodles!

-Dale

Catching Planes

One of the many things that I absolutely love is traveling. While road trips are a frequent occurrence each year, I will always prefer flying over spending a long amount of time in a car. There’s something about the atmosphere in airports. No, not the sterile cleanliness that resembles that of a hospital, but probably the fact that everyone is going somewhere.

While my parents waited in the terminal chairs, I would always stand against the wall-sized windows pressing my nose against the glass watching the planes come and go. I used to pretend that I was on those planes that left (not inside it, but actually on the wings, mind you). The moment a plane arrived at my gate, I would race back to my parents screaming, “THAT’S US! THAT’S US! LET’S GO!” only to be disappointed by the long line that awaited.

A friend of mine wrote:

A little boy just passed me and said, “Airport terminals are the best!” Well, oddly technical little boy, you are wrong.”

I never realized how boring terminals can be until I had a layover on my way home from a summer program. Honestly, there isn’t much to do but wait. While I say that the constant motion in airports give me somewhat of an adrenaline rush, they are simple. There isn’t anything extravagant about the pleather chairs or the cream cheese bagel I had.

I tend to make the best of the layovers by observing others. Those groups of girls with brightly colored luggage and bedazzled zip-up hoodies, the guy sleeping along a row of terminal chairs, the somewhat drunk man sitting in front of me being asked to calm down; I always appear to see the strangest people in the airport. Of course, I have very opinionated thoughts when I see these people.

The time spent at airports is minuscule compared to the act of actually getting somewhere you don’t live. The ride is nice too, if you want to go that route (no pun intended). Traveling and vacation is where I get a lot of my reading done.

After so many grueling hours of school and absolutely zero snow days (weather, what gives?), I was indeed ready for a break. I can’t think of a better way to relax than to leave my city for a bit. I just can’t wait for the moments where I will be traveling to new places with my friends, rather than my parents. Some of my friends and I always fantasize about where we’ll go, what we’ll do, and who else is going.

Exciting adventures will ensue in those moments, and I am sure for you too.