hello earth people!
So I just got back from a week of Thanksgiving break in my hometown. It was really nice to be back in familiar territory for awhile- let me tell ya, I needed the break. I've never been good at hiding my feelings, and so I think it was pretty obvious when my relatives asked me how my first semester of college was going and I answered with: "oooohh.... *sigh*.... it's, ya know... *cough*... good."
Driving back here, I was thinking about everything that's happened. In all honesty, this semester has been hell. And it's not that I don't like college, it's just that a lot of bad things have happened one right after the other.
And actually, when I look back on it, these past two and a half years have been particularly challenging. And within the past two weeks, I have faced my toughest challenge yet. It has included tremendous hurt, loss, and guilt.
But through this challenge, I have realized something that I think has been a long time coming. For as long as I can remember, I have operated (either consciously or subconsciously) under the notion that if I can execute everything in my life exactly right, then nothing will ever go wrong. I put it upon myself to be perfect and make the perfect decisions at all times. Something inside me told me that if I did that, then there would be no reason for anyone to leave my life or anything to not go according to plan.
This philosophy, of course, is absolute bullshit.
And the problem was, things still did go wrong. All the time. But instead of accepting it, I would blame myself for somehow messing everything up. This is not a healthy way to live.
And recently, I was just so tired of feeling weak and like everything was out of my control. I was tired of my feelings and my perceptions of myself being rendered in the hands of someone else. The way I was living, it was like I had no say in my own happiness.
So, even though my head and my heart were flooded with feelings of guilt and pain and shame and sadness, I decided to just stop.
I closed the floodgates. I decided that I was not going to let any person or circumstance control how I felt about myself and my life. I was not going to let anything control my happiness.
Instead, I am going to accept my circumstances and build my life to be the way I want it to be.
Now, I know this kind of inspirational crap is stuff you see and hear all the time. At least, I know I do, and most of the time, it really doesn't stick. Most of the time, I forget about whatever sappy quote or song I had just encountered and go back to sobbing into my Ben and Jerry's. So I understand if that's what this is to you.
But I think it took something horrible for me to really feel my own power in my heart. It took being pushed to my breaking point to decide that I could take control and that I am worthy of so much more than what I was allowing myself. So, in a way, it was a blessing.
I just want to be clear that I'm not saying to push away or ignore your feelings, because that is equally damaging and unhealthy. For me, it was like I was at the mercy of my feelings; I could not stop feeling them and I could not control them, so anything that happened to me had the power to bring me to my knees. I think it's all about balance. Allow yourself to feel and experience pain and joy and everything in between, but do not allow it to take away your power over your life.
That balance is what I am working toward. And with that balance, I am finding peace.
And now I feel so much excitement. I am so excited for the plans that God and the universe have for me. I can see now that although bad things have happened in my life, I am in store for 10 times more joy. And for that, I am very thankful. (BOOM. Thankful, Thanksgiving? Bringing it full circle, baby.)
So there ya go. I know this post probably wasn't very entertaining, but it is something real that I felt could be useful to share.
On a side note: HOLY CRAP HOW IS IT DECEMBER ALREADY I STILL HAVE A ROTTING PUMPKIN IN MY DORM ROOM
Well... that's all. :) thank you to everyone who has continued to read this blog and encourage me. Also, shout out to my cousin Andrew (who I know reads this) for creating probably the cutest human baby I have ever seen. I didn't hold her not because I didn't want to, but because I am not confident in my abilities to not harm a newborn child... :)
happy eating week-old stuffing!
Always,
Bailey Rose
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Thursday, October 10, 2013
my left ass cheek
hello humanoids!
If there's one degree I've been earning since my college career has started, it's the Degree of Getting Hopelessly Lost. I've almost got my Master's. I'm shooting for tenure at the "University of Where The Hell Am I?" next fall.
I've recently started working as a receptionist at a salon in order to rake in the dough. I want to work as a tutor in the Writing Center here on campus, but unfortunately I can't apply until second semester. So, because I knew I would drain my savings (especially with a Target in my reach) by the end of the semester without an income, I got this job.
Unfortunately, getting anywhere in the city for me is on par with getting a PhD in neuroscience (if one can even get a PhD in neuroscience. I dunno. The point is, it's really freakin' difficult). I have spent a total of four hours on three separate occasions driving around the city with zero idea where I'm going. At one point, after driving for an hour and a half around what I can only assume was the maze from the Triwizard Tournament, the GPS on my phone reported that I had reached my destination as I sat parked at the end of a dead-end road. A dead-end road that happened to be extra-dead-end due to construction. I think that's when the hyperventilating started.
Anyway, I've been slowly making progress with my aptitude for getting lost.
So today, I painstakingly made my way to the salon for an appointment. The appointment was much needed, as I was starting to look like Mad-Eye after Barty Crouch Jr. finally let him out of that enchanted trunk. (Oy, with the Harry Potter references!) Plus, I figured I should have the "customer experience" seeing as I was going to be working there.
It was the most ridiculous experience of my life. First of all, let me just say that my boss looks like Edna Mode from The Incredibles. I just feel like that is a very important detail. Secondly, I was there for approximately 500 years. (500 years in Bailey time = 3 hours in real time) My stylist offered me a hand massage, which I politely declined, seeing as I could feel myself calcify in the chair already. To this she responded, "Oh, well you're getting one anyway." She then proceeded to prod my fingers uncomfortably. "Mmm, doesn't that smell good?" she asked, shoving a bottle of lotion in my face.
"Oh, yes," I replied. Lies. It smelled like formaldehyde. You know, my stylist was really impressive though. She had this uncanny superpower where she had the ability to move in slow motion at ALL TIMES. Really, it was astounding. She also had the ability of making my head feel like I just got back from the Nickelodeon Kid's Choice Awards (...you know, cuz of the slime? Get it? Does anyone even know what I'm talking about in these blog posts?) At the end of the appointment, I was told that I would not be receiving the employee discount (for reasons unknown), so I had to sell my left ass cheek to pay for it. Guess I'll be walking lopsided from here on out.
I guess I can chock it all up to experience. This time in my life is about learning, right? And what I learned is that I am a Super Cuts girl.
And at least one good thing comes out of bad experiences. I get to blog about them. :)
Well, thank you for listening to my ranting, guys. Thanks for reading, and go out there and have awesome lives and stuff! Oh, and hold on to your ass cheeks.
Always,
Bailey Rose
If there's one degree I've been earning since my college career has started, it's the Degree of Getting Hopelessly Lost. I've almost got my Master's. I'm shooting for tenure at the "University of Where The Hell Am I?" next fall.
I've recently started working as a receptionist at a salon in order to rake in the dough. I want to work as a tutor in the Writing Center here on campus, but unfortunately I can't apply until second semester. So, because I knew I would drain my savings (especially with a Target in my reach) by the end of the semester without an income, I got this job.
Unfortunately, getting anywhere in the city for me is on par with getting a PhD in neuroscience (if one can even get a PhD in neuroscience. I dunno. The point is, it's really freakin' difficult). I have spent a total of four hours on three separate occasions driving around the city with zero idea where I'm going. At one point, after driving for an hour and a half around what I can only assume was the maze from the Triwizard Tournament, the GPS on my phone reported that I had reached my destination as I sat parked at the end of a dead-end road. A dead-end road that happened to be extra-dead-end due to construction. I think that's when the hyperventilating started.
Anyway, I've been slowly making progress with my aptitude for getting lost.
So today, I painstakingly made my way to the salon for an appointment. The appointment was much needed, as I was starting to look like Mad-Eye after Barty Crouch Jr. finally let him out of that enchanted trunk. (Oy, with the Harry Potter references!) Plus, I figured I should have the "customer experience" seeing as I was going to be working there.
It was the most ridiculous experience of my life. First of all, let me just say that my boss looks like Edna Mode from The Incredibles. I just feel like that is a very important detail. Secondly, I was there for approximately 500 years. (500 years in Bailey time = 3 hours in real time) My stylist offered me a hand massage, which I politely declined, seeing as I could feel myself calcify in the chair already. To this she responded, "Oh, well you're getting one anyway." She then proceeded to prod my fingers uncomfortably. "Mmm, doesn't that smell good?" she asked, shoving a bottle of lotion in my face.
"Oh, yes," I replied. Lies. It smelled like formaldehyde. You know, my stylist was really impressive though. She had this uncanny superpower where she had the ability to move in slow motion at ALL TIMES. Really, it was astounding. She also had the ability of making my head feel like I just got back from the Nickelodeon Kid's Choice Awards (...you know, cuz of the slime? Get it? Does anyone even know what I'm talking about in these blog posts?) At the end of the appointment, I was told that I would not be receiving the employee discount (for reasons unknown), so I had to sell my left ass cheek to pay for it. Guess I'll be walking lopsided from here on out.
I guess I can chock it all up to experience. This time in my life is about learning, right? And what I learned is that I am a Super Cuts girl.
And at least one good thing comes out of bad experiences. I get to blog about them. :)
Well, thank you for listening to my ranting, guys. Thanks for reading, and go out there and have awesome lives and stuff! Oh, and hold on to your ass cheeks.
Always,
Bailey Rose
Sunday, September 15, 2013
bitchy resting face
hello earth people!
Yes, I'm eating alone in the cafe again. The screenplay for the teen drama based on my life is in the works.
I always bring my laptop when I'm eating alone in order to look collegiate and unapproachable. There's a real skill in making sure no one tries to be your friend. According to my mother, I'm great at it.
There's a syndrome I've been suffering from my entire life, but I only just learned the term for it the other day. You see, ever since I was a tween, I have had a horrible case of.... Bitchy Resting Face.
For those of you unaware of the plight of Bitchy Resting Face, it's an ailment of the face where the afflicted basically looks like she's smelling a dead fish wrapped in garbage any time she's not smiling. I may just be thinking or staring off into space or stuffing a snickers into my mouth, but apparently I look like I want to kill you while doing that.
My mother preparing me for college: "You need to smile more. Make sure to smile. You look very friendly when you smile. You don't want to intimidate people."
Most of the time, I'm not even aware that I'm doing it. It's just how my face settles.
To be truthfully honest, I think it may be a side effect of my early-middle school days. 4th and 5th grade was the most awkward stage of my life. This warrants a list:
Eventually, I ditched the choker and my Tamagotchi's battery died and I slowly went from outcast to shy girl to just girl.
And now I'm on my way becoming more than just girl.
So maybe, if you see anyone with Bitchy Resting Face, it's because they had a painful childhood and you should just go up and give them a hug.
Except not me.
I hate hugs.
And in the meantime... I'll just sit here, contemplating if Anne Hathaway can handle the weight of my teenage angst and wondering if I still have my Manga art books. :)
Until next time!
Always,
Bailey Rose
P.S. I am now the only person left in the cafe.
P.P.S. I had to write another poem for class. It's about the circus. Safe territory? :)
P.P.P.S. I don't know if anyone reads this except my cousin and my grandma, but if you do and you want to get my posts emailed to you, there's a box for that on my homepage! Just enter your email and voila!
P.P.P.P.S. Also feel free to leave a comment!
P.P.P.P.P.S. Also... um... thank you for reading :)
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. goodbye.
Yes, I'm eating alone in the cafe again. The screenplay for the teen drama based on my life is in the works.
I always bring my laptop when I'm eating alone in order to look collegiate and unapproachable. There's a real skill in making sure no one tries to be your friend. According to my mother, I'm great at it.
There's a syndrome I've been suffering from my entire life, but I only just learned the term for it the other day. You see, ever since I was a tween, I have had a horrible case of.... Bitchy Resting Face.
For those of you unaware of the plight of Bitchy Resting Face, it's an ailment of the face where the afflicted basically looks like she's smelling a dead fish wrapped in garbage any time she's not smiling. I may just be thinking or staring off into space or stuffing a snickers into my mouth, but apparently I look like I want to kill you while doing that.
My mother preparing me for college: "You need to smile more. Make sure to smile. You look very friendly when you smile. You don't want to intimidate people."
Most of the time, I'm not even aware that I'm doing it. It's just how my face settles.
To be truthfully honest, I think it may be a side effect of my early-middle school days. 4th and 5th grade was the most awkward stage of my life. This warrants a list:
Reasons Why Bailey Was Painfully Awkward At The Age of 10
- I wore glasses, braces, straight-across bangs, and a black choker. Oh, the black choker. I can never escape it.
- I hated wearing jeans, and the only pair I liked were ultra-flare with cheetah print accents. Quite the fashion staple. I wore them almost every day. They made me feel like a Cheetah Girl.
- I was huge into drawing Manga, which if you don't know (and you probably don't, because you probably had friends as a child), it's a Japanese form of art. Think Pokemon. Lord knows I did.
- Avril Lavigne was my goddess.
- My best friends were Tamagotchis. Does anyone remember Tamagotchis? If you don't, just use your imagination. I can't even explain.
Eventually, I ditched the choker and my Tamagotchi's battery died and I slowly went from outcast to shy girl to just girl.
And now I'm on my way becoming more than just girl.
So maybe, if you see anyone with Bitchy Resting Face, it's because they had a painful childhood and you should just go up and give them a hug.
Except not me.
I hate hugs.
And in the meantime... I'll just sit here, contemplating if Anne Hathaway can handle the weight of my teenage angst and wondering if I still have my Manga art books. :)
Until next time!
Always,
Bailey Rose
P.S. I am now the only person left in the cafe.
P.P.S. I had to write another poem for class. It's about the circus. Safe territory? :)
P.P.P.S. I don't know if anyone reads this except my cousin and my grandma, but if you do and you want to get my posts emailed to you, there's a box for that on my homepage! Just enter your email and voila!
P.P.P.P.S. Also feel free to leave a comment!
P.P.P.P.P.S. Also... um... thank you for reading :)
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. goodbye.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
7 series: cake of injustice
hello humanoids!
So currently, I am sitting alone in a cafe full of people. Those are the Perks of Being a Loser. Stephen Chbotsky should write a novel about me and then Anne Hathaway could play me in the film adaptation.
Just kidding.
(But not about the Anne Hathaway thing)
Don't worry, I actually like eating alone. The fact is, I'm a total pig. Maybe not when it comes to food choice, but definitely when it comes to food consumption. I'm not the type of person who eats their food like they're taking a walk; take a bite, chew contemplatively, put fork down, sit. I don't understand those people. If I have food in front of me, I will eat continuously until it is gone. Mama don't take no breaks. The point is, my eating habits are not something I like to subject to innocent bystanders.
My meal today includes a turkey wrap on wheat with American cheese and spinach, and a cup of some sort of soup. I'm not sure what's in it, but it's totally kosher. I'm following the rules. :)
Today is a "sweets" day, but I'm not sure if I deserve it. I've been cheating a lot (who knew ham was red meat? Probably all of you). It's the sugar thing that's killing me. But whatever. I'm gonna get me some dessert.
...
Okay, I'm back. I got cake. :) Yummy.
...
...
...
(eating)
...
...
...
Aw, shit. There's some sort of fruit in this! What the hell!
There's like freakin' peaches in this cake!!!
No. No. No.
That is not fair.
I've been duped.
I just made eye contact with some girl watching me irritatedly examining my Cake of Injustice.
Let's switch topics.
So this food challenge has been going well (despite a few setbacks) and it's kind of inspiring me to do a whole new challenge of my own. I saw on the internet a list of 15 Things to Give Up If You Want to Be Happy. Here's the list:
I was thinking that maybe I could give up each of these things for a set period of time and take specific actions in doing so. I would have to create rules for each of the fifteen things and also actions that I can take to ensure I am truly "giving up" these specific traits. I would also have to set a time limit in which I focus on each individual thing. And then I'd blog about it along the way. It's a lot to think about, but I think I can do it. What do you think? If you have any ideas or suggestions about what I can do with these, please feel free to comment and let me know!
Well, that's all for now!
Thanks for reading :)
Always,
Bailey Rose
So currently, I am sitting alone in a cafe full of people. Those are the Perks of Being a Loser. Stephen Chbotsky should write a novel about me and then Anne Hathaway could play me in the film adaptation.
Just kidding.
(But not about the Anne Hathaway thing)
Don't worry, I actually like eating alone. The fact is, I'm a total pig. Maybe not when it comes to food choice, but definitely when it comes to food consumption. I'm not the type of person who eats their food like they're taking a walk; take a bite, chew contemplatively, put fork down, sit. I don't understand those people. If I have food in front of me, I will eat continuously until it is gone. Mama don't take no breaks. The point is, my eating habits are not something I like to subject to innocent bystanders.
My meal today includes a turkey wrap on wheat with American cheese and spinach, and a cup of some sort of soup. I'm not sure what's in it, but it's totally kosher. I'm following the rules. :)
Today is a "sweets" day, but I'm not sure if I deserve it. I've been cheating a lot (who knew ham was red meat? Probably all of you). It's the sugar thing that's killing me. But whatever. I'm gonna get me some dessert.
...
Okay, I'm back. I got cake. :) Yummy.
...
...
...
(eating)
...
...
...
Aw, shit. There's some sort of fruit in this! What the hell!
There's like freakin' peaches in this cake!!!
No. No. No.
That is not fair.
I've been duped.
I just made eye contact with some girl watching me irritatedly examining my Cake of Injustice.
Let's switch topics.
So this food challenge has been going well (despite a few setbacks) and it's kind of inspiring me to do a whole new challenge of my own. I saw on the internet a list of 15 Things to Give Up If You Want to Be Happy. Here's the list:
I was thinking that maybe I could give up each of these things for a set period of time and take specific actions in doing so. I would have to create rules for each of the fifteen things and also actions that I can take to ensure I am truly "giving up" these specific traits. I would also have to set a time limit in which I focus on each individual thing. And then I'd blog about it along the way. It's a lot to think about, but I think I can do it. What do you think? If you have any ideas or suggestions about what I can do with these, please feel free to comment and let me know!
Well, that's all for now!
Thanks for reading :)
Always,
Bailey Rose
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
ghosts and lesbians
hello homosapiens!
It was another no shower day for me today! I'm becoming a regular pioneer. Soon I'll be churning butter and expecting a tin can in my stocking for Christmas. I read a lot of Laura Ingalls Wilder as a kid.
But no worries! I went on a run and showered, so I'm no longer a vagabond. Speaking of showering, though, I have a little anecdote for you:
I was in the shower at 5:30 am getting ready for 7:00 am breakfast last week. So there I was, mindin' my own business, wondering how to completely get all those scratchy little hairs off of my right armpit, when I heard a loud bang. I figured it was just a clumsy girl from my hall making a racket or something. But it didn't stop, it just went bang bang crash bang thud crash bang jangle jangle bang jangle thud. My college (if you're wondering, I haven't said the name of my college yet for the purpose of anonymity. Although it's kind of a moot point, because I suspect everyone who reads this blog is family/friends, so they already know where I am. Oh well, wishful thinking) has a lot of ghost stories surrounding it, so I was starting to get the heebie jeebies a little. You see, I went to The Conjuring this summer. By myself. My boyfriend had to stay up with me on the phone that night talking about Jesus until I fell asleep. But anyway, the mysterious noises continued, and I got out of the shower to find that it was an older woman, maybe in her forties or fifties, who, judging by the keys on her belt and the garbage bag in her hand, worked for the janitorial staff (woah, talk about a run-on sentence, amirite?) She didn't look at me, just made the loudest possible hullabaloo while doing her work at 5:30 in the morning. I wanted to say hello, but she was silent and pretended that I wasn't there. She really looked like she hated her job. I've called her "the ghost" in my head ever since. I still see her in the mornings, and she still hasn't said a word. She's still as noisy as ever too. It's only a matter of time before I wake up to find her replacing paper towels at the foot of my bed.
So there you go. My real-life Ghost Adventures experience.
SEAMLESS TRANSITION:
In my writing class, we were assigned to write a "ten-line poem rich with imagery." So I wrote a poem about snippets of how I see my future; now, I did put effort into the poem, but let's just say I didn't break my back trying to analyze the many nuances and implications of my word choices. And I'm not saying it was brilliant or anything. Here's the poem, for the purpose of the story:
A classmate read my piece out loud anonymously, and then my professor asked the group what they liked about it.
Silence.
Someone said, "That rain part sounded cool."
More silence.
Then my professor asked for critiques, and like a balloon bursting and releasing it's air, there was a barrage of, "WHAT IS THIS?!??!" I'm not even joking, it was like they were all holding their breath for that one moment. I heard:
- "how many people ARE THERE in this poem?"
-"what's with the t-shirts?"
-"why is there more than one t-shirt?"
-"is staticky even a word?"
I listened dishearteningly while they all tried to figure out what the author could possibly mean by this vague riddle of a poem. Then my professor asked if the writer wanted to speak. Normally I would sit silently and try to be as inconspicuous as possible, but this time I spoke up. I explained how the poem wasn't supposed to be specific, but instead represent the blurry images I see when I think about my future and having a family. I ended with something like, "So the white t-shirts could be on little kids running around, or, you know, a woman." By "woman," I meant the wife in the scenario (which in my mind, would be me, but I really didn't want to put the image of me wearing only a t-shirt for pajamas in the heads of my entire class) but my professor responded with:
"Ah yes, it could easily be a significant other. We never know who we might end up with, do we?" And then I swear he winked. People shuffled in their chairs, and we moved on to another peer's poem. It wasn't until a couple minutes later I realized:
My entire class thinks I'm a lesbian.
Which, I mean, there is totally nothing wrong with that. Except for the fact that I've been dating a human male for the past year. And I'm sure this made them all re-evaluate my short Daisy Buchanan haircut. Dammit.
So there you have it. The uncomfortable moments of my newborn college career. Stay tuned, I'm sure there will be more to come. :)
May your week be filled with ghosts and lesbians!
Always,
Bailey Rose
It was another no shower day for me today! I'm becoming a regular pioneer. Soon I'll be churning butter and expecting a tin can in my stocking for Christmas. I read a lot of Laura Ingalls Wilder as a kid.
But no worries! I went on a run and showered, so I'm no longer a vagabond. Speaking of showering, though, I have a little anecdote for you:
I was in the shower at 5:30 am getting ready for 7:00 am breakfast last week. So there I was, mindin' my own business, wondering how to completely get all those scratchy little hairs off of my right armpit, when I heard a loud bang. I figured it was just a clumsy girl from my hall making a racket or something. But it didn't stop, it just went bang bang crash bang thud crash bang jangle jangle bang jangle thud. My college (if you're wondering, I haven't said the name of my college yet for the purpose of anonymity. Although it's kind of a moot point, because I suspect everyone who reads this blog is family/friends, so they already know where I am. Oh well, wishful thinking) has a lot of ghost stories surrounding it, so I was starting to get the heebie jeebies a little. You see, I went to The Conjuring this summer. By myself. My boyfriend had to stay up with me on the phone that night talking about Jesus until I fell asleep. But anyway, the mysterious noises continued, and I got out of the shower to find that it was an older woman, maybe in her forties or fifties, who, judging by the keys on her belt and the garbage bag in her hand, worked for the janitorial staff (woah, talk about a run-on sentence, amirite?) She didn't look at me, just made the loudest possible hullabaloo while doing her work at 5:30 in the morning. I wanted to say hello, but she was silent and pretended that I wasn't there. She really looked like she hated her job. I've called her "the ghost" in my head ever since. I still see her in the mornings, and she still hasn't said a word. She's still as noisy as ever too. It's only a matter of time before I wake up to find her replacing paper towels at the foot of my bed.
So there you go. My real-life Ghost Adventures experience.
SEAMLESS TRANSITION:
In my writing class, we were assigned to write a "ten-line poem rich with imagery." So I wrote a poem about snippets of how I see my future; now, I did put effort into the poem, but let's just say I didn't break my back trying to analyze the many nuances and implications of my word choices. And I'm not saying it was brilliant or anything. Here's the poem, for the purpose of the story:
I see bare feet on wooden floors
large ones, little ones, elegant and rough
I see curly ringlets, blonde and fraying and
running past me
I see falling asleep on our leather sofa
as lightning reveals the night rain and
a staticky blanket keeps me warm
I see long white t-shirts
skimming the tops of bare legs
as the golden morning light catches it’s rays
in your messy hairA classmate read my piece out loud anonymously, and then my professor asked the group what they liked about it.
Silence.
Someone said, "That rain part sounded cool."
More silence.
Then my professor asked for critiques, and like a balloon bursting and releasing it's air, there was a barrage of, "WHAT IS THIS?!??!" I'm not even joking, it was like they were all holding their breath for that one moment. I heard:
- "how many people ARE THERE in this poem?"
-"what's with the t-shirts?"
-"why is there more than one t-shirt?"
-"is staticky even a word?"
I listened dishearteningly while they all tried to figure out what the author could possibly mean by this vague riddle of a poem. Then my professor asked if the writer wanted to speak. Normally I would sit silently and try to be as inconspicuous as possible, but this time I spoke up. I explained how the poem wasn't supposed to be specific, but instead represent the blurry images I see when I think about my future and having a family. I ended with something like, "So the white t-shirts could be on little kids running around, or, you know, a woman." By "woman," I meant the wife in the scenario (which in my mind, would be me, but I really didn't want to put the image of me wearing only a t-shirt for pajamas in the heads of my entire class) but my professor responded with:
"Ah yes, it could easily be a significant other. We never know who we might end up with, do we?" And then I swear he winked. People shuffled in their chairs, and we moved on to another peer's poem. It wasn't until a couple minutes later I realized:
My entire class thinks I'm a lesbian.
Which, I mean, there is totally nothing wrong with that. Except for the fact that I've been dating a human male for the past year. And I'm sure this made them all re-evaluate my short Daisy Buchanan haircut. Dammit.
So there you have it. The uncomfortable moments of my newborn college career. Stay tuned, I'm sure there will be more to come. :)
May your week be filled with ghosts and lesbians!
Always,
Bailey Rose
Thursday, September 5, 2013
7 series: a questionable muffin
I suppose it is time for an update on the September SEVEN Challenge. :)
I'm on day four, and I'm actually pretty proud of myself for truly sticking to the program so far. It has definitely limited my food intake (of course), but in a way, it has made things easier for me. Before this experiment, I would struggle between healthy-but-kinda-bland and maybe-not-as-healthy-but-freakin-delicious options, and of course would more often than not choose the freakin' delicious one. I'm allowed to eat these things, I would think. I'm really not that unhealthy. And I wasn't horribly unhealthy, but I struggled with how much was too much and would just end up feeling like crap. Now, the decision is made for me. And I feel a lot better.
I've already noticed a difference in my health and overall feeling of not-as-yucky. I've decided that I'm allowed to eat my three sweets on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Yesterday at lunch I got a piece of cheesecake from the cafe and just poured soft-serve ice cream over it like the roaring Mississippi. And my spoon and I were Lewis and Clark. And we didn't need no Sacagawea to help us find the way to unexplored glory, let me tell ya.
I danced back to my seat and made eye contact with my boyfriend who was waiting for me.
"There's no way you're eating all that," he said. And he was right, I didn't. My eyes were a little too big for my stomach. But oh, the sweet taste of victory. And cheesecake.
My only questionable decision so far occurred this morning. My boyfriend and I went to 7 am breakfast, and I saw a muffin. It was a cherry muffin, and it was small, and the cafe was out of bananas, and I was really hungry, so I ate it. I rationalized that muffins are not inherently desserts and that it had fruit in it, so it wasn't a sweet. It may have been a slight moment of weakness. And I picked the cherries out of it. So.
But I am only human, and to be human is to err, or something like that. And boy, do I err. Do I ever. Okay. I digress.
I hope all is well with you lovely human people. :)
Always,
Bailey Rose
I'm on day four, and I'm actually pretty proud of myself for truly sticking to the program so far. It has definitely limited my food intake (of course), but in a way, it has made things easier for me. Before this experiment, I would struggle between healthy-but-kinda-bland and maybe-not-as-healthy-but-freakin-delicious options, and of course would more often than not choose the freakin' delicious one. I'm allowed to eat these things, I would think. I'm really not that unhealthy. And I wasn't horribly unhealthy, but I struggled with how much was too much and would just end up feeling like crap. Now, the decision is made for me. And I feel a lot better.
I've already noticed a difference in my health and overall feeling of not-as-yucky. I've decided that I'm allowed to eat my three sweets on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Yesterday at lunch I got a piece of cheesecake from the cafe and just poured soft-serve ice cream over it like the roaring Mississippi. And my spoon and I were Lewis and Clark. And we didn't need no Sacagawea to help us find the way to unexplored glory, let me tell ya.
I danced back to my seat and made eye contact with my boyfriend who was waiting for me.
"There's no way you're eating all that," he said. And he was right, I didn't. My eyes were a little too big for my stomach. But oh, the sweet taste of victory. And cheesecake.
My only questionable decision so far occurred this morning. My boyfriend and I went to 7 am breakfast, and I saw a muffin. It was a cherry muffin, and it was small, and the cafe was out of bananas, and I was really hungry, so I ate it. I rationalized that muffins are not inherently desserts and that it had fruit in it, so it wasn't a sweet. It may have been a slight moment of weakness. And I picked the cherries out of it. So.
But I am only human, and to be human is to err, or something like that. And boy, do I err. Do I ever. Okay. I digress.
I hope all is well with you lovely human people. :)
Always,
Bailey Rose
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
exotic friends and next-door neighbors
happy night time, everyone!
I just felt like blogging a bit before I went to bed. Oh, and I've been watching a lot of British Youtubers recently, so please know that I am writing this in a British accent and I do hope you will read it that way. :)
I'm going to take advantage of the fact that I'm pretty sure no one reads this and let that allow me to be a bit personal right now.
College is great, and I'm really enjoying it so far, but I will confess that I am a little bit lonely. It hasn't progressed to the "super depressed" stage yet (and trust me, I've been there) but it is enough to make me contemplative. Of course, this is extremely normal and I'm sure a bajillion freshman here are feeling it right now, but the thing is- it's not so new for me.
I feel like I can get along with anyone, really and truly, but it is so entirely rare for me to find someone with whom I have a "soul connection." I've met so many cool people throughout my life, and especially within these last two and a half weeks, but there's something to be said for that person that you just really "click" with. Do you know what I mean? Please don't think I'm being snobbish or anything, because I know so many awesome people who I truly like and expect great things from, but there is a tangible lack of those who I feel occupy the same planet as I do.
And it's not just now, it's been like that for a long time. And that's okay, it doesn't bother me so much anymore, but I do have a real problem with identifying with girls my age specifically. And that definitely causes some feelings of isolation, especially now that I'm living on an all-girl floor.
I just keep imagining myself when I'm older, with a husband and 2 to 4 kids with curly hair and a house with wooden floors and big windows and a dog or maybe two and three books published and one in the works and our adventures and our travels and our exotic friends and next-door neighbors and our lives not being like what you see on television but more like what you see in movies, except it's ours. Because I guess I feel like I belong there.
I have a grand vision for myself. I just need to stop doubting it, that's all.
Well, I don't really know the meaning of this rambling, but it has made me feel a teeny bit better, so I guess that's something. I hope if you're reading this you don't judge me too harshly. Maybe it's made you feel better too. And yes, I'm still writing this in a British accent. :)
And if you don't mind, I'd like to end with a short prayer:
Dear Lord,
thank you for all of the opportunities and bountiful blessings you have given me
please help me to use them to your advantage and guide me on the right path
let me feel your presence always and fill me with love, joy, hope, and peace
help me to live in your light and your love, and let them shine through me
I pray that for anyone feeling lonely or out-of-place, you assure them of their worth
and guide them to their best potential
help us find our way
also, I pray for mom, dad, Alex, Callie, Devin, Ashley, Haste, and all the college freshman this year who are still adjusting
please keep us all safe and protected and lay your healing hands on our hearts
in Jesus' name I pray,
Amen
I hope you all have a good night and you sleep well :) I look forward to having the inspiration to write again!
Always,
Bailey Rose
I just felt like blogging a bit before I went to bed. Oh, and I've been watching a lot of British Youtubers recently, so please know that I am writing this in a British accent and I do hope you will read it that way. :)
I'm going to take advantage of the fact that I'm pretty sure no one reads this and let that allow me to be a bit personal right now.
College is great, and I'm really enjoying it so far, but I will confess that I am a little bit lonely. It hasn't progressed to the "super depressed" stage yet (and trust me, I've been there) but it is enough to make me contemplative. Of course, this is extremely normal and I'm sure a bajillion freshman here are feeling it right now, but the thing is- it's not so new for me.
I feel like I can get along with anyone, really and truly, but it is so entirely rare for me to find someone with whom I have a "soul connection." I've met so many cool people throughout my life, and especially within these last two and a half weeks, but there's something to be said for that person that you just really "click" with. Do you know what I mean? Please don't think I'm being snobbish or anything, because I know so many awesome people who I truly like and expect great things from, but there is a tangible lack of those who I feel occupy the same planet as I do.
And it's not just now, it's been like that for a long time. And that's okay, it doesn't bother me so much anymore, but I do have a real problem with identifying with girls my age specifically. And that definitely causes some feelings of isolation, especially now that I'm living on an all-girl floor.
I just keep imagining myself when I'm older, with a husband and 2 to 4 kids with curly hair and a house with wooden floors and big windows and a dog or maybe two and three books published and one in the works and our adventures and our travels and our exotic friends and next-door neighbors and our lives not being like what you see on television but more like what you see in movies, except it's ours. Because I guess I feel like I belong there.
I have a grand vision for myself. I just need to stop doubting it, that's all.
Well, I don't really know the meaning of this rambling, but it has made me feel a teeny bit better, so I guess that's something. I hope if you're reading this you don't judge me too harshly. Maybe it's made you feel better too. And yes, I'm still writing this in a British accent. :)
And if you don't mind, I'd like to end with a short prayer:
Dear Lord,
thank you for all of the opportunities and bountiful blessings you have given me
please help me to use them to your advantage and guide me on the right path
let me feel your presence always and fill me with love, joy, hope, and peace
help me to live in your light and your love, and let them shine through me
I pray that for anyone feeling lonely or out-of-place, you assure them of their worth
and guide them to their best potential
help us find our way
also, I pray for mom, dad, Alex, Callie, Devin, Ashley, Haste, and all the college freshman this year who are still adjusting
please keep us all safe and protected and lay your healing hands on our hearts
in Jesus' name I pray,
Amen
I hope you all have a good night and you sleep well :) I look forward to having the inspiration to write again!
Always,
Bailey Rose
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
the spark
Alright, so now I'm going to explain the spark for starting this webgarden blog.
One of my friends who was two years ahead of me in high school (coincidentally also named Bailey) has been doing an experiment called the Seven project (or something to that effect). Basically, for seven months, you are given a subject (one for each month) and have rules regarding that subject. For example, for one month she was not allowed to have any social media. For another, she could only choose seven items of clothing to wear for the entire month. Cool stuff like that. And she always relates her experiences back to God. She has blogged about it along the way and shared her revelations, and I've been following along. This month, as she was approaching her new challenge, she asked via Facebook if anyone would want to join her, specifying that September is dedicated to food. Inspired by what I had witnessed of her journey, I had been thinking about conducting an experiment of my own. And, ever since I got to college, I've really been struggling with my relationship with food and what the right balance involves. So I volunteered. At first I was really nervous, wondering if I was jumping in too fast. But as these first few days have passed, I've been really happy that I decided to do this. I have seven food rules for this month (mine differs from Bailey's a little, seeing as I am on a meal plan and she lives in an apartment in Chicago, but the point is moral support, people). So here are my seven rules:
1.) no red meat
2.) only 3 sweets per week
3.) no caffeine/soda/sugary beverages
4.) no "junk" (chips, candy, buttery, salty)
5.) no fried food
6.) no eating after 8 pm
7.) single serving of meat/unlimited vegetables
It's the sweets rule that's gonna be my downfall. I love desserts, and crave them after I eat almost anything. The point of this, for me, is not to be "skinny" or starve myself. My goal for this experiment is to find the proper balance of food in my life and learn how to control my life in order to shape it into what I want it to be. And already, I think it has done that. I started this blog. I started a website. And I feel really good about it.
So there you go! Obviously, I'm not going to use this blog solely for the purpose of the Seven project, but it will be a topic that I blog about and it was the reason why I started in the first place.
To read Bailey's blog and learn more about the Seven project, click here --> http://thereandbackagainandagain.wordpress.com/2013/08/26/day-26/
To watch the (slow) progress I'm making on my website, click here --> http://webgarden.moonfruit.com/home/4579132403?preview=Y
And if you have any suggestions for what I can do with my website, this blog, or anything in general, feel free to comment below!
Thanks for reading. :)
Always,
Bailey Rose
One of my friends who was two years ahead of me in high school (coincidentally also named Bailey) has been doing an experiment called the Seven project (or something to that effect). Basically, for seven months, you are given a subject (one for each month) and have rules regarding that subject. For example, for one month she was not allowed to have any social media. For another, she could only choose seven items of clothing to wear for the entire month. Cool stuff like that. And she always relates her experiences back to God. She has blogged about it along the way and shared her revelations, and I've been following along. This month, as she was approaching her new challenge, she asked via Facebook if anyone would want to join her, specifying that September is dedicated to food. Inspired by what I had witnessed of her journey, I had been thinking about conducting an experiment of my own. And, ever since I got to college, I've really been struggling with my relationship with food and what the right balance involves. So I volunteered. At first I was really nervous, wondering if I was jumping in too fast. But as these first few days have passed, I've been really happy that I decided to do this. I have seven food rules for this month (mine differs from Bailey's a little, seeing as I am on a meal plan and she lives in an apartment in Chicago, but the point is moral support, people). So here are my seven rules:
1.) no red meat
2.) only 3 sweets per week
3.) no caffeine/soda/sugary beverages
4.) no "junk" (chips, candy, buttery, salty)
5.) no fried food
6.) no eating after 8 pm
7.) single serving of meat/unlimited vegetables
It's the sweets rule that's gonna be my downfall. I love desserts, and crave them after I eat almost anything. The point of this, for me, is not to be "skinny" or starve myself. My goal for this experiment is to find the proper balance of food in my life and learn how to control my life in order to shape it into what I want it to be. And already, I think it has done that. I started this blog. I started a website. And I feel really good about it.
So there you go! Obviously, I'm not going to use this blog solely for the purpose of the Seven project, but it will be a topic that I blog about and it was the reason why I started in the first place.
To read Bailey's blog and learn more about the Seven project, click here --> http://thereandbackagainandagain.wordpress.com/2013/08/26/day-26/
To watch the (slow) progress I'm making on my website, click here --> http://webgarden.moonfruit.com/home/4579132403?preview=Y
And if you have any suggestions for what I can do with my website, this blog, or anything in general, feel free to comment below!
Thanks for reading. :)
Always,
Bailey Rose
fifty shades of no
Getting out of bed was just fifty shades of no this morning.
Normally I'm a morning person, but today I hit my snooze button so many times it filed a domestic violence report against me. I stumbled out of bed an hour and a half later than I had intended. No showering for me. This was actually the first day since I've been in college that I went to class without actually showering, which probably doesn't seem like a big deal, but it's a milestone for me because I'm usually very particular about my cleanliness. I think some doctors call it, uh... "ocd"? At any rate, I'm dirty today, and I like it that way. Progress.
This morning probably wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't have a dreadful 8:00 am class. The real kicker? It's a design class, which would normally have me hopping, skipping, and jumping on my way, but ugh. It's the most boringest boring bore in all of boringtown. My professor is a very nice lady but her voice sounds like the teacher from Peanut's if that teacher was on a boatload of tranquilizers. I swear, her voice is what they use to put psychopaths to sleep so they can run tests on them. And she does this weird thing when she's speaking, like a hypnotic drone: "So, mmm... what... mm, what would you say is the, mmm.... contrast in this particular, mmm... piece?" It's trance-inducing. Again, real nice lady.
Despite the struggle, I left my dorm today wearing sweats and a sweatshirt, which is a nice change from the constant river of sweat that has been flooding my body the past couple of weeks. I keep having visions of fall. I'm thinking of peace and possibilities today. Do I sound like a hippie yet? Trust me. I will.
Well, I hope everyone is having a pleasant morning. And...mmm... a nice, mm... day. :)
Always,
Bailey Rose
Normally I'm a morning person, but today I hit my snooze button so many times it filed a domestic violence report against me. I stumbled out of bed an hour and a half later than I had intended. No showering for me. This was actually the first day since I've been in college that I went to class without actually showering, which probably doesn't seem like a big deal, but it's a milestone for me because I'm usually very particular about my cleanliness. I think some doctors call it, uh... "ocd"? At any rate, I'm dirty today, and I like it that way. Progress.
This morning probably wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't have a dreadful 8:00 am class. The real kicker? It's a design class, which would normally have me hopping, skipping, and jumping on my way, but ugh. It's the most boringest boring bore in all of boringtown. My professor is a very nice lady but her voice sounds like the teacher from Peanut's if that teacher was on a boatload of tranquilizers. I swear, her voice is what they use to put psychopaths to sleep so they can run tests on them. And she does this weird thing when she's speaking, like a hypnotic drone: "So, mmm... what... mm, what would you say is the, mmm.... contrast in this particular, mmm... piece?" It's trance-inducing. Again, real nice lady.
Despite the struggle, I left my dorm today wearing sweats and a sweatshirt, which is a nice change from the constant river of sweat that has been flooding my body the past couple of weeks. I keep having visions of fall. I'm thinking of peace and possibilities today. Do I sound like a hippie yet? Trust me. I will.
Well, I hope everyone is having a pleasant morning. And...mmm... a nice, mm... day. :)
Always,
Bailey Rose
Monday, September 2, 2013
my backstory
hello all!
I'm sure I don't have a wide audience yet (seeing as this is the first post) so "all" might just be my mom. In that case, hey mom. Yes, I'll call you later.
I guess I'll dedicate this first post to telling you who I am and why I'm even blogging in the first
place.
My name is Bailey Rose. I grew up in an idyllic town in Iowa. And I don't say that sarcastically. I consider my hometown to be the perfect American eutopia, a place where the birds sing and people give you the courtesy one-finger wave as you pass them on the road. You know, that type of stuff. It was a great place to grow up, and I'm extremely thankful that I got to call it home for eighteen years, and in my heart, it will always be home. But I would be lying if I said there were never any growing pains.
I am now a freshman in college (as of two weeks ago), planning on majoring in English Education and Writing, and living in a much bigger city than I am used to, but I was ready for the adjustment. At my high school graduation, everyone cried and hugged and reminisced over those last golden days, but I honestly felt... nothing. Now, before you brand me as a heartless robot, I'll have you know that I used to cry at 30-second Steve Irwin memorial commercials at the time of his death. And recently (during a rather heavy bout of PMS), I found myself open-mouth sobbing at a dance routine from Hairspray. It wasn't even sad. So trust me, I have emotions. It's just that ever since I was little, I have imagined for myself such a big life. And not one of those New-York-take-the-world-by-storm-livin-la-vida-loca-I-was-an-only-child type of big lives. But a life that was centered around love and risks and change and experience and in the end, a life that would serve others as much as it served itself. That is my dream. And so I guess, when everyone else was thinking about graduation invitations and what finger foods to serve at their party, I was thinking about that dream. So, as much as I love my hometown, I was excited to go. Terrified, yes, but excited.
And so here I am, sitting in my college dorm room at 12:23 am, writing this post. I will explain the series of events that led me here later, but here's what I hope for this blog: I want it to be a way for me to practice my writing, to share my thoughts, and to reach and connect to people in new and helpful ways. I hope that I can achieve that.
So that, in a nutshell, is my general backstory. I will reveal more about myself and why I am blogging and what has sparked all of this in more posts along the way, but I believe that this has built a proper foundation for now. I look forward to writing to you all.
Always,
Bailey Rose
I'm sure I don't have a wide audience yet (seeing as this is the first post) so "all" might just be my mom. In that case, hey mom. Yes, I'll call you later.
I guess I'll dedicate this first post to telling you who I am and why I'm even blogging in the first
place.
My name is Bailey Rose. I grew up in an idyllic town in Iowa. And I don't say that sarcastically. I consider my hometown to be the perfect American eutopia, a place where the birds sing and people give you the courtesy one-finger wave as you pass them on the road. You know, that type of stuff. It was a great place to grow up, and I'm extremely thankful that I got to call it home for eighteen years, and in my heart, it will always be home. But I would be lying if I said there were never any growing pains.
I am now a freshman in college (as of two weeks ago), planning on majoring in English Education and Writing, and living in a much bigger city than I am used to, but I was ready for the adjustment. At my high school graduation, everyone cried and hugged and reminisced over those last golden days, but I honestly felt... nothing. Now, before you brand me as a heartless robot, I'll have you know that I used to cry at 30-second Steve Irwin memorial commercials at the time of his death. And recently (during a rather heavy bout of PMS), I found myself open-mouth sobbing at a dance routine from Hairspray. It wasn't even sad. So trust me, I have emotions. It's just that ever since I was little, I have imagined for myself such a big life. And not one of those New-York-take-the-world-by-storm-livin-la-vida-loca-I-was-an-only-child type of big lives. But a life that was centered around love and risks and change and experience and in the end, a life that would serve others as much as it served itself. That is my dream. And so I guess, when everyone else was thinking about graduation invitations and what finger foods to serve at their party, I was thinking about that dream. So, as much as I love my hometown, I was excited to go. Terrified, yes, but excited.
And so here I am, sitting in my college dorm room at 12:23 am, writing this post. I will explain the series of events that led me here later, but here's what I hope for this blog: I want it to be a way for me to practice my writing, to share my thoughts, and to reach and connect to people in new and helpful ways. I hope that I can achieve that.
So that, in a nutshell, is my general backstory. I will reveal more about myself and why I am blogging and what has sparked all of this in more posts along the way, but I believe that this has built a proper foundation for now. I look forward to writing to you all.
Always,
Bailey Rose
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