A Rambleflection

Does anyone else's mind go straight to that Mulan song when they hear the word "reflections," or is just me? 

...

Just me?

Senior year (of both college and of high school, I would argue) is full of paradoxes. Ups and downs, and all arounds. You're having the best time of your life. Bars on Thursday nights and quality time spent with friends and trips into San Francisco and all kinds of on-the-whim, spontaneous trips and activities. But it can get real sucky, real quick. This opportunity doesn't work out, that friendship falls apart, oh my GOODNESS are some people really done recruiting? How can this be?!

This place is your kingdom, it's all yours! But you eye those wide-eyed, bright little freshmen who have twenty club meetings penciled into their agendas and colorful notebooks ready and set on the desk on the first day of class, with envy. They have this place for the next four years.

It's whizzing by. Is it already the end of Fall Quarter? We're 1/3 of the way to caps and gowns? It's moving too slow. Summer plans! When do we get to go apartment-hunting? When do we get to have a salary?

And through it all, you start to measure time through "lasts." The last first football game. The last first home football game. The last rivalry game. The last home football game. The last football game as a student. The last first day of school. The last Fall Quarter finals. The last Fall Quarter. The last Full Moon on the Quad (don't ask, just Google and laugh). The last time flying home for Winter Break. I feel a bit like a child counting down in a game of hide 'n' seek - five, four, three, two, one, three-quarters, one-half, one-fifth, one-tenth ...

You don't want to get to "zero," know what I'm saying? Who knows what's waiting for us there.

Que sera, sera.

/ End ramble.

The "No, But" Rule | Finals Week Improvisation

You people are cultured souls, I know you are. Tell me you've memorized Tina Fey's book cover-to-cover and have listened to Amy Poehler's hilarious interviews and pored over The Daily Tay's words about improv and the "yes, and" rule. 

In short, to every offer, to every scenario thrown at you, you say "yes, and." You say yes, and then you tack more onto it.

Rules get thrown out of the window during Finals Week though. Rules don't apply. You just try to stay alive.

So, I present to you the week of "No, But" --

Were you in a place of mental peace and readiness?
NO, BUT we found ourselves in a near-empty theater, crying buckets of mirthful tears at Horrible Bosses 2 until our abs screamed, our candy fell on the ground, and our ICEE melted.

Did you eat nutritiously?
NO, BUT there was pizza. And wine. And sugar cookies (pre)slice-n-baked at midnight. Come on, they had Christmas trees on them. It's Christmas, ya Grinch.

How about getting plenty of rest and good nights' sleep?
NO, BUT reverse-matched outfits did not go to waste. Birthday celebrations are never to be missed. & post-birthday celebration dancing in the rain until 5 in the morning is never to be regretted ragretted.

Have you reviewed a quarter's worth of PowerPoints and PDFs?
NO, BUT we trotted all over San Francisco (with a pit stop at Ghirardelli's for a sundae obvs), walked a few unbeaten paths, and found ourselves short of breath from laughing so hard during an improv show. A Merry Murder Mystery, in fact! Worth it.

All set for these finals. All set.

When There's No Rain, There's No Bow... Or Funfetti Dip

Picture this:

It's early morning. Eyes aflutter. Grey skies peek through the blinds. The room's awash in a pink glow emanating from the lamp you decided to keep lit, thanks to neither of your roommates being home. Even quiet college towns can be a bit scary at night, you know. A constant drizzle is providing the perfect melody, steadily crescendoing into a heavy pouring. It smells clean. Fresh. 

A draft envelopes you from the open, but blinded windows. The pillows are cold, but the down blanket nest is warm and toasty if you burrow yourself deep enough. 

There's a low rumble. And again. And again. Thunder. It never thunders in California. In fact, it hasn't rained at all in California for awhile. So this - all of this - is a happy reprieve. 

People here don't really know how to deal with the rain. Everyone's soaked because no one thought to bring a weatherproof jacket or a, what's it called? Umbrella? Through the duration of class, gazes settle on the downpour through the open windows, rather than on the professor chattering on up front. A lecture lets out, and a boy looks at the rain and comments, "now that's nasty!" ... It's barely drizzling. I don't think people realize how much they've missed the rain (outside of the fact that the drought shut down our gorgeous fountains for months).

But we have. We've missed the rain, and the rainboots, and the rainbows, and that it justifies rainy day treats like Funfetti cake batter dip and lots of coffee and long naps and puddles and and and and and.


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