Shorter hair, Skinnier jeans

Like a major earthquake or volcanic eruption, sometimes it takes a catastrophe to cause enough of a shift in your life to let certain things into or out of it.


Life experiences can completely change the face of who we are, like Mount St. Helens, but more often, little shocks and jolts cause minor changes in how we think, how we view the world, how we choose to spend our time in mortality, and what we value.

On an infinitely more superficial note, sometimes these bumps and jolts knock us hard enough to allow certain things slip through the newly opened cracks. For example, a few months ago, I cut my hair without giving it a second thought. My mentality was, "It's just hair. There are much more important things in this world." So I let my roommate Melissa wash my hair in the kitchen sink and chop it right then and there on our fake wooden floor. The long hair I'd had for just about forever = gone.







The shock that Suzy so masterfully captured in that middle picture gradually wore off and I quite enjoy having shorter hair. It's a lot healthier, I have spunky, sporty ponytails these days (always fun), I can do messy buns, my hair doesn't get as static-y from my black coat, and the wind picks up my hair so much more easily (a feature my good friend Ben would absolutely LOVE...) .

Life jolt's newest installment: skinny jeans.

GASP! Shock! Mild, benign made-up expletive! Blush! Swoon!

Yes, my friends... skinny jeans. Run and hide.

My first encounter was with a pair belonging to Suzy worn on a date that I needed an extra confidence boost for. (By the way, Melissa--THANK YOU.) I was surprised to find that wearing them didn't kill me. In fact, it was pretty painless. They're just pants and like my hair, my ankles gradually got over the sensation of being choked. A month or so later, I was out for a walk when I passed a college girl's yard sale. I took a look at a few things, saw some jeans, and determined that I'd go back after my walk and look into it further. There was a pair of jeans tagged for TWO DOLLARS. Jeans for 2 bucks?! Definitely worth trying them on! They were skinny jeans, and fit SO DANG WELL. (That is in and of itself a miracle for my curvy little body. Can't pass up a miraculous pair of two dollar jeans, right??) Even if I couldn't stand the skinny leg, I could cut them into shorts, right? Long story short, I got the jeans for FREE. (Wooo!!!) And no, I have not cut them into shorts, nor am I planning to.

So I haven't forwarded the skinny jean industry with my own money, (although I am very confident that the free pair I've inherited were originally bought with an arm, leg, and the birthright of the first, unborn child of aforementioned college girl) but thanks to Mom's stellar seamstress skills and an awesome Bernina that can revive holey-hand-me-down-jeans, I do have a pair of my very own. To have, to hold, and to wear when I'm feeling like the world and I can both handle the sparkly back pockets. Will I ever buy skinny jeans? Probably not. (Let's be honest: how often do I spend good money on things like jeans?) But Aaron recently acquired a pair that are waiting for me on my bed at home--we'll see if they fit.

Thoughts on Bathrooms

Foreword: My apologies if the topic of this post does not meet the standards of propriety, refinement, and grace of anyone who reads it. I feel like I did an acceptable job at being gracious in what I had to express today.

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I'm writing to end the several week absence I've had from the blog. Truth be told, I've actually started a few posts that have stayed in the draft stage--which is most definitely for the best. I know, I know... so much for "dauntless debut." Anyway, because the dauntless crusader in me is failing today, I'm going to skirt around everything I want to talk about and tell you something quirky about me instead. I love bathrooms.

Now don't jump to any obvious conclusions; that's not where I'm headed in this post, although thank goodness out-houses are no longer the rage. ("Indoor plumbing, it's gonna be big...") For me, bathrooms are just great. A lot of my deepest thinking is done in bathrooms. If I were to unlock the secrets of the universe, it would most likely be in a bathroom. On the flip side, the bathroom is a place where I can just turn my brain off--I can't put a price on the lulling hum of the bathroom fan or the shower. I try to be consciously conservative about my showers (my Dad would be proud), but I know there are many days where I could just let life melt away in the hot water for probably forty-five minutes and not get sick of it.

At school, solitude can be tough to find. I share a room with two of the best girls I know (cough cough, vertical sleeping column, Madeleine; and Katie, I don't care how many times you say it, your stuff has NOT exploded throughout the room) but even when you live with the best, you still don't really have a place you can call your own. Of course we all share the bathroom, but when it's occupied, the inherent nature of bathrooms grants temporary sole ownership to the occupant. (Unless, of course, there is a leg-shaving party going on. Feel free to join--the more the merrier! We'll change the world one smooth leg at a time. Note: BYOR. (Bring your own razor.)) My use of bathrooms for the ultimate college getaway is a little pathetic and is probably an infringement of the unwritten bathroom bill of rights, but on this point, I'm going to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. (Of course, banking on the "seventy times seven" rule.)

Lately, when I've retreated to the bathroom, I haven't wanted to leave. Yeah, that might sound disgustingly unpleasant on first thought, but don't you just think there's some sort of safe feeling in that little 4'x4' room with no windows, a lock on the door, weirdly soft, yellow lighting, and the fan drowning out everyone and everything? (Except the occasional bang/kick on the door from Suzanne. Love you, Suz.) I don't know, maybe I'm crazy. Crazy or not, though, I know that bathrooms have saved my bacon more than once.

So to bathrooms everywhere, I thank you. Thanks for being the no one I needed when I need it most. Thanks for having awesome fans. Thanks for the times when you are clean and pristine. (At least in my apartment, that's pretty standard.) You're just great all around.