The forecast says there's a 100% chance of thunderstorms tomorrow morning. I'm excited. The weather lately has been feeling like summer, all sun and wind, which is great - but I missed having spring. All that tumultuous, electric change. Mud. Flowers muscling up through the soil. Buds bursting open on tree branches. I want more of that messy, exuberant season. I think the rains and the storms will help it feel more like spring.
A coworker's husband brought in dozens of daffodils to the coffeeshop the other day - we put them in glasses all over the store. I brought one home and put it in a cup so it can brighten up my desk. I won't say no to flowers ever.
Last night was the Presidential Ball! The school brought it back (it was canceled last year). The pizzas served in the cardboard boxes were offset by the chocolate fountain. There was a live band playing excellent big band music, but was later replaced by a student DJ. It struck a pretty good balance of classy and fun.
While getting ready for the dance, I realized that I have too many dresses. It's ridiculous. I had five potential dresses I could have worn to the ball, just from my closet here at school - not counting the four other dresses in my closet at home. I have no idea how I got to be so girly and ridiculous. It just kinda happened.
At any rate, I had a lot of fun perambulating the dance floor and tables, dancing arhythmically but enthusiastically with my guy (who looked very dashing in his pinstripe suit), eating chocolate covered strawberries, and taking cheesy photos with friends.
I crashed absurdly early upon returning from the dance - I ended up going to sleep around midnight. Midnight! On a Saturday! Nonetheless, it was pretty nice to catch up on those REM cycles.
It's been one of those grey, damp days today. Pre-storm weather, I guess. There are a few puddles on the ground and the grass kicks up drops of water onto my ankles when I walk. I like it.
It's occurred to me that there are two weeks until I turn twenty-two. Holy cow. A friend of mine just had her birthday; she mentioned that she no longer has any birthdays to look forward to. Sixteen has passed, as have eighteen and twenty-one. From now on, the only notable birthdays are ones significant because you're getting old: thirty, forty, fifty.
Twenty-two? It'll be interesting.
4 comments:
Thank ye, ma'am, I rather like yars, too.
You should comment more - it makes me feel loved. :)
I'll bring you back a cane, grandma.
Love,
the 21 year-old club. We may have pacifiers. Don't judge us.
Twenty-two's not so bad. Think about it this way--now there's no more birthday pressure. When you turn 16, or 18, or 21, everybody makes a ridiculously big deal about it. But now you can celebrate more quietly and do whatever you want. You don't have to make it a big thing. Unless you want to make it a big thing, which is your choice. Because it's still your birthday. People will do what you want. But I'm thinking from now on I could just have a birthday dinner with friends. It would be nice.
I was feeling old today too.... it's so very strange and unsettling. But also vaguely exciting.
miss you. love.
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