College students procrastinating…as always.
So I forgot to share this when it actually happened, but I was chosen to be a College Fashionista…twice!
My friends Kiara and Lauren write for College Fashionista, a fashion website dedicated to getting gals through college with cute and practical outfit ideas! Writers take pictures of fashionistas around their campus and write about their specific style and how it can influence an outfit.
Here’s the links to both of the articles I was featured in:
Girly and Grunge by Kiara Catanzaro (I’m fairly certain my eyes are closed in this picture)
Fall Look by Lauren Zazzara
Yes, I realize I’m wearing the same boots and jacket in both of them. Yes, I do own other clothes. I swear.
Both pieces were awesome, and I was so happy to be featured.
Like most college students, I go to the dining hall to have lunch with my friends on a daily basis. Except we’re weird. Weirder than that kid who walks around humming to himself all day and no one even knows his name. We’re a social weird though. We talk about topics most people don’t—or won’t—and we tend to bring our surrounding peers into the conversation.
So Wednesday, like any other day, we grabbed lunch from the dining hall and the five of us went to the café to eat—because who really wants to sit in the crowded dining hall and listen to freshmen discussing how drunk they got last night. (Seriously, dude? It’s a Tuesday.)
We sat down and began our normal conversation, which always leads to talking about feminist ideals and how society sucks or who wants to sleep with whom. So essentially, we start talking about how great boobs are—because they are awesome—and we had a pansexual and lady homo (lesbian) present for the discussion—and a guy sitting a few feet away chuckles and shakes his head a bit. My friend noticed and joked with him, and he said something along the lines of, “Oh, don’t let me stop you. Please continue this conversation.” So we did. We generally don’t let the company that surrounds us restrict our conversation, although this time, we probably should’ve considered it.
The boob conversation delves deeper into the topic of nipple-to-boob ratio and what the preference seems to be or is for those present that are sexually attracted to women, and my friend invites the guy to join the conversation. He does. “I feel like there’s no bad nipple-to-boob ratio,” he says.
A smart answer.
Then the topic of “older guys” gets brought up, and the discussion leads to who thinks middle-aged men can be sexier than college guys and who prefers “that touch of gray” in a guy’s hair. Ya know, just casual public lunch conversation.
The random guy eventually asked all of us what we majored in, and we told him. Politely, my friend asks what his major is.
“Uh, I actually teach here.”
If you can picture 5 mortified, red-faced, jaw-dropped 20-something college girls, now is the time to do that.
Turns out he’s an almost 40-year-old psychology professor, and I’ll probably be in his class next year. I wonder if nipple-to-boob ratio will be on the syllabus.
My life is a series of awkward events.
When people talk about the future, it stresses me out.
I’m not talking about people asking me what I’m eating for lunch. I mean when boyfriends talk about having kids. Or people asking me 500 questions about my study abroad plans next semester when I don’t have the answers. Or someone asking me where I think I’ll be in 5 years. I know where I want to be, but right now, I don’t have the time or patience to think about anything other than exactly what I want for my future. If I don’t focus on that, then I won’t ever get there.
Do me a favor. Leave me alone. When I get where I want to be, then you can ask me how I did it. Right now, don’t ask me how I’m going to do it because I don’t know. I just know I’m going to.
I’m writing this from my bed with a mug of wonderful tea beside me. I consider this a huge accomplishment. No, not because I managed to walk across my dorm and not spill hot tea on myself, but because it is 12:13 am, and I’m actually showered and laying in bed RELAXING. This is so rare for me that I can’t remember the last time it happened.
For those of you who don’t know, I’m an editor for my campus newspaper. That means on Wednesday nights—affectionately referred to as BV Wednesdays by the editorial staff—we spend the night (starting at 7pm) in the newsroom editing, doing layout, formatting pictures, etc. It’s a lot of fun most of the time, but some nights we just run ridiculously late, and I have an 8:30 am class…so I don’t like being there past midnight—especially when I have to go back to my dorm and shower and do stuff.
However, not only did we finish both pages of edits (from the Managing Editor Nate and the Editor-in-Chief Kevin), but I was back in my dorm by 11:30. Finishing both pages of edits means that I won’t have to go down and spend hours in the newsroom tomorrow like I normally do. HALLELUJAH. Another great thing about tomorrow? My 8:30 am and my 2:30 pm classes are cancelled! Now, those are my two favorite classes…but this means I only have one class tomorrow, I don’t have to go down to the newsroom, and life is just good.
So I’m celebrating by relaxing for the first time in God knows how long.
This is nice.
A day in the life.
Wow. So I just got into my hotel room after an eight-hour drive from St. Bonaventure to NYC. I had the most amazing talk with my professor (who was driving the car). We just sat in the front, and while everyone else was sleeping, she shared stories about her life and career. We just talked. And it was awesome. I wasn’t expecting to do much but sit and listen to my music, but I got to listen to stories from her career as a journalist and all about the things she wished she’d done differently in life. I respected her before, but now, I have such a deep appreciation for her presence in my life.
She and her husband (also a professor at my university) are the supervisors for this trip to NYC. Their classes (obviously I’m in hers) are presenting on a panel at a conference on journalism and communications related topics. Our panel is on advocacy journalism/journalists and it’s/their effect on journalism and the world. I’m speaking about Melissa Fabello, the young female blogger who was able to get Seventeen magazine to agree to stop using manipulated spreads.
Well anyway, I’m just chillin’ in my hotel room with two of my best friends. We have a queen bed and a cot…here’s a picture of my friend Catie trying to figure out how to set up the cot for our friend Elyse while she was sitting on the toilet singing about her shit. Yeah, my friends are just badass like that.
Catie also just came out of the shower and flashed us.
A day in the life, ya know?
While coming into the city via The Lincoln Tunnel, I quoted Buddy the Elf. Oh yes I did.
“I traveled through the seven layers of the candy cane forest, through the sea of swirly twirly gumdrops, and then…
THROUGH THE LINCOLN TUNNEL”
All freshmen at St. Bonaventure University are required to take a University 101 class that teaches them the basics of college life. For my class, I had to do a presentation on myself. This, along with a short verbal addition at the end, is what I came up with.