Senior Year For Real

Hi, hi, hello, let's skip the "yeah I kinda didn't post all month last month again" sermon and get right into it, shall we?

The first semester of senior year is almost over and I'm nowhere near confident about my project deadlines. I think so is everyone else in my class. We're a fun little group with great shoes and panic in our eyes, ordering too much coffee and spending the first half hour of every lesson down at the vending machine, eating our nerves. I got five seperate To Do lists and it turns out that "writing the whole pr concept" does not get any less time consuming just by putting a little dash in front of it. What a nasty surprise.

On the move to the copying machine. How very dynamic.

Some people do sports to reduce stress. I went to my beloved ballet class yesterday, with all the best of intentions. However, when the ballet baby (my teacher always brings her eight (or nine? I'm new with this) month old boy, who used to be a total delight, lying peacefully on his back, listening to the classical music; now he's still absolutely delighful, just way more mobile and sound-intense) began leaning out of his little car seat, and the others were all talking about the choreography and looking the other way, horrors began forming in my mind, but before I could alert his mom, his cute big head threw off his balance and he rolled out of the seat and onto the floor. He wasn't seriously hurt (though he sure cried like he had just been pushed out of a moving car) and his mom assured me that things like these happen all the time, but I'm deeply ashamed for not having said anything sooner. I don't even wanna know how much of an annoying helicopter I'll be if I have children one day. I'm already dancing the dying swan scene with an alarmed twitching in my eyes because I can see the baby in the mirror, grabbing the power chord of the stereo behind me. I mean, I love this class with all my heart. But I'm still a teensy bit stressed.

I'm more of a "carbs fix everything" kinda gal

Focus on the little things. I am sitting in my car after riding the train home for an eternity, parked in the parking lot, and I am devouring a cold slice of cheese pizza and washing it down with coke from a plastic cup while blasting Taylor Swift. That scenario might not sound especially desirable to you, but think about it: I got my own car with a drink holder. I got enough time to enjoy my lunch in here all by myself without rushing. I had just the three dollars for my pizza floating around on the bottom of my purse. I'm not lactose intolerant. And I get to decide what music to put on.

Plan fun things for when it's over. I booked a hotel room for September. I got no way of getting there yet, but we won't be nagging about details, are we? "Book as many trips as possible without digging too deep into your pocket, because you don't know if you're gonna get a job right after graduating" is....probably too long for a new bumper sticker.

But honestly, like I'd ever put a bumper sticker on my car.

Love,

Rosy Smith