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Monday, March 28, 2011

It all ends 7.15

The release date for the final Harry Potter movie somehow feels like the finish line of my childhood.

I've always been the same age as Harry. We've grown up together.

In the next five months, I will turn 22 and graduate from college and move eight hours from home. And I'll watch the last HP movie—the final installment in the seven-book, eight-movie story that has unfolded alongside my own life.

And I think I feel the same way about the movie that I do about growing up.
Excited, yes, but also sad.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

One-Man Disney Movie

Marci posted this link on her Twitter yesterday, and now I am obsessed.

I know, right?

I realize that approximately eight hours ago I posted to say that I would be gone from the blog for a couple of days, but I thought I could post this really quickly while I ate my cereal before class!

Brad Pitt and Jon Hamm both look good in suits

and both went to Mizzou. Just saying.

I'll be gone from the blog for a couple of days because I am working on applying for assistantships! I thought I'd leave you all with pics of these two guys, though.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Black and yellow.


I know, right!? I am freaking out. I have no words, and I don't really have time for words because I am leaving for Florida for SPRING BREAK in approximately two hours and have not packed a darn thing, but I needed to tell the bloggy world. Thanks for all your encouragement.

I will blog more about this soon! (FROM FLORIDA!)

p.s. I think Mizzou's colors are actually black and gold, but I will be singing that "Black and Yellow" chorus all week.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

I'm a nervous wreck.

I just talked whined to my big brother for 40 minutes about Mizzou. Seriously.

You've already heard my freak-outs about how much I want to go there, but every day that passes without my knowing whether I'm admitted increases my neuroticism about the subject.

That sentence doesn't even make sense. I read it back and thought to myself, "Why would the world's best journalism school admit me when I can't even structure a sentence?" See. Neuroticism.

This whole graduate school admissions process has created the perfect storm for my particular flaws.

I worry too much + I find my identity in my grades + I'm too concerned about what other people think about me + I'm impatient + I never feel like I've done a good enough job + I forget that God has my best interest in mind + I don't take criticism well + I feel everything intensely + I obsess
= I am one mess of a grad school applicant.

Jack, being the awesome brother that he is, sent me these Calvin and Hobbes cartoons. Apparently Calvin and I are the same person.

So now I'm just trying to reassure myself of things that I don't feel.
Things like:
  1. God has great plans for me.
  2. My own personal value is not dependent on whether or not I get admitted to grad school.
  3. I will end up with a job. I will.
  4. Not getting in now doesn't mean never getting in. (How's that for sentence structure?)
  5. Grad school has no eternal significance.
  6. And, again, God has great plans for me.
"Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will not be shaken. My victory and honor come from God alone. He is my refuge, a rock where no enemy can reach me. O my people, trust in him at all times. Pour out your heart to him, for God is our refuge." Psalm 62:5-8 NLT

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Pocket full of Bieber

"I just want to put Justin Bieber in my pocket," Anna said yesterday.
I felt she had captured my sentiments toward him perfectly.

You see, I have a long history of swooning over celebs...

As a 9-year-old, I could profess my love for 23-year-old BSB Brian Littrell.
At 14, I could fall for 24-year-old Clay Aiken and 25-year-old Shane West.
At 19, I didn't feel creepy about loving 17-year-old David Archuleta.
And at 20, I had few qualms about drooling over 18-year-old Taylor Lautner.

But enough is enough.
At nearly 22, I simply cannot find myself crushing on a 17-year-old.
Even one as totes adorbs as Justin Bieber.

I always knew this day would come — the day when crushable celebrities started to be too young for me. And I think I feared that all the fun and excitement that obsessions can offer would somehow dwindle out as well.

But I am finding that I'm simply able to love Justin in a different way — a way that kind of makes me want to
pinch his cheeks
and make him a sandwich
and, yes, put him in my pocket.

As I watched Never Say Never last weekend, I found myself experiencing concern for his well-being. I know. All these years I've been trying to figure out when I'd know I was a grown-up. I figured I'd know when I started paying all my own bills or when I started living by myself or when I got a real job.

But perhaps I realized I was a grown-up as I watched Justin Bieber singing onstage in the movie. There he was, being screamed for by a thousand teenage girls. And there I was, identifying not with the girls but with the moms who'd brought them to the concerts.

Baby Bieber. Not even kidding.

All this said, I'm still obsessed with him. I still bop around my room to his music on a near-daily basis. I still waste time watching videos of him on YouTube. (I got a kick out of this one in particular.) I still find myself in awe of his incredible voice (and dance moves). I still can't wait for his next CD to come out. But this popstar-obsessing all feels a little different than it once did.

If you asked me, though, if I might ever have a crush on him in the future,
you know, when he's gotten a little bit older and taller,
and when his voice is deeper and he's finally in his twenties,

I'd say,
Never say never.
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