Michaila's Misadventures

So I have had an interesting summer so far, wrought with many misadventures and random moments of klutziness and awkwardness.  In order to make it even more awkward, I shall share my misadventures with you:

MAY:
I started the summer off with a move from my school year dorm to my summer housing, pretty much clear across campus.  Both my rides that offered to help me drive my stuff over fell through, so I almost had to walk all my stuff over with a dolly.  It's a half mile walk one way. Luckily my new roommate and her friend helped me.

JUNE:
I decided to make book themed cupcakes for the library, starting off with Divergent. 

 
Dauntless chocolate cake with sugar glass flames.
Set off the fire alarm when I burned the sugar glass.  Didn't catch the irony until much later.  I had to call my RA and have her turn the alarm off.  Fun times.

The very next day, I got locked into my own bedroom.  I went in to my room to change to take a shower, shut my door for obvious reasons even though I was home alone, and once I was in my robe, I realized I couldn't open the door.  I had left my phone and computer out on the couch in our living area because I was taking a shower...didn't need them.  I tried to stay calm and jimmy the door open with my TEC cross and any card I could find. Just pretend you're Nancy Drew...she gets locked into rooms all the time.  Basically what had happened was that my door handle no longer controlled the door jam.  I had the sense to change into some clothes and open my window.  I live on the first floor and my bedroom window faces a courtyard between the two townhouse units. The window's at the end of this weird hallway thing in my room that I stuffed my bed into.  I have a bed cave. It's wonderful. Anyway, so I'm on my bed with my window open and I start yelling for help, trying to make my voice sound calm.  I mean, it's not exactly an emergency, but by then it was 7 and my roommate worked until midnight and if I got hungry or bored or needed to pee...I was screwed.  Plus it was scary and I wanted out and needed to shower.
So I yell, "Help?  Is anyone out there?"
This guy who works at the library with me at the library but in a different department so I hardly ever see him because he's hiding on fourth floor came walking by and freaked out-he thought someone was being murdered.  It didn't help that we had recently had a level 3 sex offender move in a five minute's walk from our townhouse.  My front door was unlocked because before I had decided to take a shower, I had been sitting facing the door and didn't feel like it needed to be locked.  So he came in and tried to open the door from the outside.  His friend came in and they start calling the RA (whose number was on my phone from the fire alarm fiasco the day before) who didn't answer...finally the guy suggested I take the screen off my window and climb out.  That worked, and I got back in and then called building services and they took my handle off my door.  They fixed it a few days later.

Also managed to burn my arm real good while making potato sweet potato tart.  I had a burn about the size of a playing card on my right elbow. Evidently the oven in my apartment doesn't have a stop point half way open like the one at home does.  And the tart wasn't even all that delicious. So not worth it.





MORE CUPCAKES!

  Get it?  Little infinities? Saw this movie and looked in my purse for something to stop the bleeding of the scab I just picked, found tissues and it was getting to that part so I just took one and passed it down. Also started ballet lessons.


Had some family issues happen and had to take the train home.  My train was supposed to get in at about 2am.  It didn't get there until 8:15am.  Fun times.
But then this happened:

So there's that.

I had a strange dream apparently on June 22: 

So I had the weirdest dream last night: with so many people I know getting married or engaged, weddings have been on my brain. 

Last night I dreamt of my wedding day, but it was at my house in my backyard (which would never happen in real life because I want a church wedding). They wouldn't do my hair the way I wanted it, but when I finally came out and walked down the aisle, I stood next to my future husband and realized the ridiculousness of it all. (at this point I think I began lucid dreaming) I put my arm around my future husband and announced to the crowd in my yard, "Sorry everyone, the wedding is off. We haven't even met each other yet!"

Yep. Priorities.

So that happened. 

More cupcakes!

 
These are based on a book called A Snicker of Magic by Natalie Lloyd.  It's adorable.  Go read it.  Now.

Anyway, there's this ice cream flavor in the book that's really important called Blackberry Sunrise and it helps you remember things. It's magic ice cream.  Seriously, this book is wonderful.

So naturally I made ice cream cone cupcakes with lemon cupcakes with lemon pie filling in them and blackberry cream cheese frosting with blackberries and lemon zest on top. They liked to tip over...but were extremely delicious.

Started watching Doctor Who.

It has now consumed my life.

Doctor Who is wonderful.

Won a contest for a commissioned drawing of my characters Damien and Calista. :) Very exciting stuff. 

JULY:

Started Camp NaNoWriMo with Beauty is Blind.  Wrote some weird stuff.  Got about halfway to my goal and gave up. 

Bumped into a car with my bike on my way home from church and the grocery store.  Basically we were both at a stop sign and I thought he was waiting for me to go but he was waiting to turn right and I didn't see his blinker until it was too late.  We both had just started moving so it was a very low speed collision, but it bent my front wheel and scraped me up pretty bad.  Then I made cupcakes. Very therapeutic.
Doctor Seuss themed!

Sneetches!

Green Eggs and Ham, Cat in the Hat, and McElligot's Pool

Truffula trees and Clover cake pops
from The Lorax and Horton Hears a Who

Thing One and Thing Two

One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish

Me and my clover...

 These were Funfetti strawberry jello cupcakes.  The clovers were chocolate cake pops and the truffula trees were vanilla.

Also had a slightly terrifying conversation at the bus stop Tuesday about my relationship status or lack of with a guy who I now realize was hitting/creeping on me.  Real eye opener.

I dyed my hair!  It now has red highlights.

^ Me losing my "hair virginity" as they called it.  I've never dyed my hair before



<And the red highlights!




Also strangely straight hair.



How I actually look:

 This is a still from a movie I made today...

Joined the Disney Smule Games!  Go Team Cyclone!

Basically, we do all these different challenge.  Number one: ensemble challenge.  We did "Belle" from Beauty and the Beast and I got to be Belle!  I also had to sing my part outside at midnight.  Got some weird looks from a girl walking home, but whatever. 

Our first two rounds.  We placed first and second respectively out of four.  The next round was voice acting-I did the sound effects and the tin whistle bit.
Our next challenge is interpretation - taking a musical (in our case, Les Miserables) and replacing the characters and lyrics with ones pertaining to a Disney movie (in our case, Aladdin) Our song is called "All this for a Loaf of Bread?"
It's wonderful.

Oh, and then I was biking Tuesday and wiped out.

 Fun times.  Very fun times. A tricycle bike was hogging the sidewalk, I got out of the way, tried to get back on the sidewalk and caught the edge of it.  I've apparently made it my life goal to use up the first aid kit at work. 

So that's my summer. 

An Open Letter to the Writers of Glee

Last summer I powered through four seasons of Glee. Why? Because I realized I knew nothing about anything.  I couldn't tell Brittney Spears from Beyoncé and I had no idea what went down in public high schools, not that I'm saying Glee is an accurate representation of the average high school nor did I ever take it as such, but I didn't realize that kissing someone you weren't dating was as big of deal as it is.  Yeah. I learned a lot about relationship drama.
I kept watching it because it was something to watch and I found it entertaining. I was never obsessed with it, nor do I consider myself a fangirl or a "gleek."  I really found myself hating/disagreeing with a lot of the things in the show, especially those regarding sex.
As a Catholic, I have been taught to wait until marriage.  I've seen both sides of the issue and it makes sense to wait for a number of reasons - break-ups are easier, no risk of S.T.D's or pregnancy, no chance that the guy is going to leave you when you finally give in...I'm proud to be a virgin.  Heck, I haven't even gone on a proper date yet or been kissed, so I'm like...a triple virgin?  Whatever.  Why do people make such a big deal about virginity?  Like it's some kind of disease or something to be ashamed of?  I was shocked when I saw Kitty teasing Marley about still being a virgin in "The Previously Unaired Christmas Special" (the number of things wrong with that episode...so many...)  You have no right to judge people based on how they chose to take care of their body or how much of a sex life they have or don't have.  Anyway.

I was nervous watching the latest episode.  I mean, it opened with an old fashioned commercial about being screened for STD's. Then Sam kept pressuring Mercedes to have sex.  On discovering Mercedes was still a virgin, I was pleasantly surprised.  But I was worried.  I was proud of myself to find that I recognized a warning sign in Sam's behavior.  He said that he could take it slow, and that she could call the shots.  He took her to dinner, went to church with her...all saying he expected nothing.  But it was clear that he did. Last year, had I been in Mercedes's shoes, I would have fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.  But this year?  After reading a book called How to Find Your Soulmate Without Losing Your Soul by Jason and Crystalina Evert, I was able to see that Sam exhibited the signs of the "Smooth Criminal" - someone who says that she's in control, but really uses his indifference as manipulation and wears away at the girl's resolve until she sleeps with him.  After that, he usually breaks up with her.  I was unimpressed with Rachel's advice, and applauded Mercedes when she finally told Sam she wanted to wait until marriage.  I was so proud of her.  Thank you, Glee! Anyway, as far as I'm concerned, you all can stop shipping Sam and Mercedes with anyone but each other, because the fact that he's willing to wait for her says something about him.  Artie used to be one of my favorite characters, but I have so much more respect for Sam now...let's see if it lasts.  It better. Honestly, Mercedes and Sam need to show the rest of the Glee club how it's done. And after years of stuffing the mainstream "have sex now" stuff down our throats, I'm glad that they have shown us the other side of how things could be.

Life as of Late

So yeah... 'member how I said I was going to be posting weight updates but haven't?
Yeah. I lost two pounds, gained three, and stopped checking and stopped caring.
I don't know what's going on with me.  I'm a motivated person. I lost it before.  I've lost all ambition for anything I ever did.  I get spurts of it now and again, but usually during finals week when I have to focus on something else.

While Hazel Grace's lungs may suck at being lungs, my brain sucks at being a brain.

I was diagnosed with depression on Monday.  I don't know how "official" it is, but I had 6 of the 9 characteristics.  You needed 5 to be considered clinically depressed.
It explains a lot - like how I could look forward to a thing for weeks and then the day it comes along, I go back and hide in my dorm.  (This happened with swing dancing club for the entire fall semester).  I spiral into bouts of blaming myself and beating myself up (mentally) for the stupid things I've done/said in my life almost nightly. On Tuesday, I was so tired (I had gotten a normal amount of sleep, about 7 hours, like usual) that even after four glasses of Diet Coke from DS, I still felt like curling back up in bed at 4 o'clock. That's another symptom.  My grades are dropping because I just don't care.  They're not horrendous, but they're not the straight A's I'm used to. Tuesday was so bad I had not one, but two professors ask if I was okay.  I just told them I was tired.  Well, one of them.
I had to tell my voice teacher that my voice hurt.  Because I have no friends, I had to record a multitrack of this choir piece over the weekend.  This means I had to sing all four parts...and I'm an Alto 1.  This means I can definitely sing Alto 2, and Soprano 2 isn't too much of a stretch, but Soprano 1...not happening.  Especially when I wrote in tons of F sharps and A naturals to sing. (Hint: those suck for an alto)  Not to mention that we have Oratorio rehearsals for an hour and a half each day with higher than I'm used to parts, and I'm auditioning for family weekend and doing a lot of singing for that, not to mention my voice lessons. Hint: if it feels like you're singing through a lump in your throat that doesn't go away even when you clear your voice...stop trying to sing.  This started getting bad on Sunday night, and by Tuesday it was really bad. My teacher put me on vocal rest - no singing, minimal talking.

I had to give a 15 minute presentation today.  And practice for it. Several times. I have auditions tomorrow that I have to sing for, and auditions for chapel choir on Friday (more singing).  I can barely talk.  I'm honestly pretending that I'm Elisa, a newer character who takes an oath of silence to save the lives of her brothers, just so that I feel better. (her story is a combination of "The Six Swans" and "The Little Mermaid" by Hans Christian Anderson)

But yeah, that's what's going on with me. I'm going to see a new counselor for anger management and stuff soon...we'll see.

Body Image and Boobs

So an update that I promised and never delivered on- last time I checked I lost about 2 pounds.  I think I gained them back.  I'm having a bit of an emotional breakdown.

I just got back from an exploration seminar to London and Paris (!) but the downside is that we got stuck in Chicago because our flight got cancelled...I'll tell that story later.  But suffice it to say that the last 2 days have left me emotionally drained.

Today's post is about...boobs.  Somehow I stumbled across something on buzzfeed that led me to this thing called Busty Girl Comics.

For those of you who don't know, my boobs suck.  By third grade, my mother wouldn't let me out of the house in a light shirt without my little sports bra. Oh, you had to ask your mom to buy you a bra?  How cute. Yeah. I hated it.  I'm not confident in my body.  When a third grade boy asks you if you're wearing a bra on the playground and you're just like...nooo......half way in tears...yeah. Not a fun time.

Right before seventh grade, I approached my mom to tell her I thought I needed new bras.  I gave her a peek down my shirt and that's all the convincing she needed.  I was literally spilling out of my little A cups as I did sixth grade algebra. We went to Kohls, I got sized for the first time (before my mom just bought bras she thought would fit) and much to my dismay, I was sized at a C cup.  This is wonderful, but keep in mind I was 12. Other girls my age were padding their cute little junior-section bras with tissues after gym while I wore matronly nude bras under a little girl sports bra and a cami, just to be comfortable in gym.  (and you wonder why I'm fat and hate all sports.  I'm mortified of my f***ing boobs...)

Tenth grade comes along.  I don't know how to dress right.  I'm trying to be modest but keep forgetting the fact that big boobs on a short girl with a cami that's just slightly too low and tall guys don't mix.  I didn't realize this dilemma until senior prom.  Yeah. In tenth grade, I had not one, but two bisexual senior boys hit/creep on me.  I was 15, sitting there, pulling up my cami uncomfortably.
The first guy went to my school and was in plays with me.  His intentions were...okay, not as bad as the other guy's, but he lacked social skills.  He did try to be nice, but the day I started a diet and was cranky about it, he tried to cheer me up by buying me chips.  That I couldn't eat. When we found out we were doing Beauty and the Beast my junior year (after he had graduated) he said that he wanted to be Lumiere, that my friend would make a great Belle (even though she had no interest in the part and we all know how obsessed with this play I am) and that I would make a great...get this...Mrs. Potts.  MRS. POTTS.  Now I know we didn't do the Disney version and that Mrs. Potts doesn't necessarily mean fat...but to a hormonal insecure fifteen year old girl...it was the end of the world. I was sick of being type-cast as "the fat girl" - the villain, leader of the german spies, Cinderella's fairy godmother, Beauty's mother, the Little Nun...Because fat busty girls can't be Cinderella.  We can't have a fat girl be Beauty. She's too short to be seen on stage...Little Nun- perfect. (don't get me wrong-I do actually love my height and frequently joke about it.  Make a quip about my height and I'll think it's hilarious.  Or my shoe size. Or my tiny baby hands. Because I like those parts of me.  But comment on my weight or boobs and I will go cry in a corner for an hour. Because I hate that part of me).
The second boy I met at my little sister's family camp.  His opening line? "I'm a senior in high school and I've never had a girlfriend and I'm really lonely." I was stuck with him in an art cabin, too polite to leave.  The only reason I was there was because there was a piano I wanted to play there. By the end of talking to him for an hour, he had told me his life story and that he was bisexual, among other things.  I finally pulled the overprotective parents card and told him my mom and dad wanted me home by 10 and left after he played a song about school shootings. This whole time I kept yanking on my cami, trying to pull it higher.  The next time this kid showed up at camp, his hair was down to his shoulders, his nails were painted black, and he had no respect for anyone in my group of friends.  He was constantly trying to join our group but kept making derogatory jokes and inappropriate comments around the younger campers, even when the other boys told him nicely to stop.  I don't know what his deal is.

The summer of senior year, I was wearing a swimsuit on mission trip.  I was a DD by this point. Thankfully, a t shirt over the suit was required for everyone, because I discovered that my XL tankini top (my first tankini ever, mind you) no longer housed even half of my boobage. I came home, sobbing to my mother about how nothing fit and I was ugly and fat and I kept running into things with my boobs and playing guitar was hard and...the list goes on and on. She said to me, "Why don't you just cut them off?"
"What? You can do that?"
"Yeah.  I did it.  After we adopted the boys." I was about 8 at the time.  I remembered her having a surgery "to help her back"
"What?  Why didn't you tell me?!?!?" I've been suffering from huge boobs since before seventh grade, I've tried wearing three layers of bras and camis (one for support, one for coverage, and a cami to hold everything in) I've tried reduction bras and slimming camis and everything.  And you've watched me struggle through this and not say anything about going through the exact same damn thing? Seriously, Mom?
She had her reduction after having us kids.  She was an H or something and got back down to a DD.  She was supposed to end up a D, but then gained weight or something.

We made an appointment.  I was a DD. I quickly got over my initial discomfort of letting a male doctor examine my boobs.  If it meant that they could be normal, then it was worth it, and I gladly stripped.  (if you're getting a reduction, this is going to happen every time you go in for an appointment.  Might as well get used to it.
We had to ask the insurance if they'd cover it.  They said yes - if I was 18.  That was four months away.  On my birthday, I called the insurance company and asked them to resubmit my claim.  It was approved and on January 2, 2013, I found myself at the hospital.  By lunchtime, my boobs had shrunk by two pounds.  I was thrilled (once I got over the initial weakness...a day later) I could wear button down shirts, I could wear t shirts with words on the chest and not look stupid, I could put my arms straight down on my sides and not squish my boobs in in the process.  By the time I had the surgery, I was spilling out of DDD's. I think I went down to B (a cup size I skipped in puberty).  I was never sure.  Bra shopping once I got out of sports bras a month later became very very complicated.
The surgery itself was an ordeal.  I couldn't carry my french horn, or anything over 20 pounds.  I had to be careful and shield them from bear hugs from people I didn't want to hug.  I couldn't really explain to the world what I'd done because BOOBS! shh...nobody talks about boobs. breast reduction boobs whisper you're not allowed to talk about boobs...social stigma and all that bullshit
Yeah. I had scars and every month for the next six months when my time came, my boobs hurt like hell.  You think your boobs are tender? That's nothing. Try it post op.
I went through a heck of a lot for smaller boobs.  For less neck pain.  For being comfortable in my short and petite body.  For being able to wear a dress from a store and not custom making it. For not feeling like a midget hooker. For liking myself just a little bit more.  But it was so worth it.  I loved my boobs after the surgery, scars and all.

But then the unthinkable happened.  Just before I moved out to college, I decided to get sized for a bra.  About six months had passed since the surgery, and by then all of the swelling had gone down and my boobs were at their permanent size.  I went to Victoria's Secret and got sized on my half birthday (my sister's birthday. yep).  They sized me at a 38B.  I bought their demi bra in a cute grey color with pink lace that reminded me of a baby elephant.   A pretty bra, so soft and perfect.  I also bought a cheap walmart t shirt bra in the same size for a back up.  By midterms, I had stopped wearing the VS bra.  It didn't offer enough coverage and every time I wore it, my nipples spilled out.  By finals, my walmart bra was on its last stretched out sweaty leg.  It was time for the dreaded bra shopping.

Lucky for me, Victoria's Secret was having their big bra sale.  I had gained about 15 pounds during freshman year, so I figured I'd go up a cup size and be good.  38C is still better than 38DDD+.  I knew I had to get their full coverage bra this time.  I didn't like demis. I found one, went into the room and tried it on.  I thought it was ok at first, but then realized that it wasn't.  Then I asked the workers to size me again.  They put me in a 36D.  Okay. I can live with that. Go down a band size, up a cup size.  It's a sister size. Yeah. This is okay.  Still single letters...stay calm. The demi sample bra fit. I asked to try a full coverage in the 36D.  This was , to my horror, too small.  The 36DD in the full coverage fit. At this point, I'm half in tears in the Victoria's Secret dressing room, staring at my fat ass and huge boobs in a 36DD bra.
"It's just a number," the saleslady tells me.  "It doesn't matter."
"It does too fucking matter!" I want to yell at her.  "Do you even realize how much pain I went through to get smaller boobs, only to be back in the same fucking size less than a year later?  DO YOU REALIZE THE EMOTIONAL TRAUMA THAT THESE STUPID THINGS PUT ME THROUGH EVERY DAY?!?! DO YOU?!"
Instead, I say, "Why does the 36D in the demi fit me but not in full coverage?" Thinking, maybe the style runs small.  Maybe it's not me.
"Well, the demi is stretched out from being tried on." *sound of giant parade balloon being popped and all the air hissing out of it*
Great.
I end up going back to walmart, finding a bra in a 38D that runs small in the band size.  Now it's just past midsem and my faithful little walmart bra is flaking out on me yet again. I'm going to have to go bra shopping, and guess what? This one is also getting too small for my boobs.

I'm beginning to think that my boobs will never stop growing. I've heard stories of people who have to have multiple reduction.  A bit of research has shown me that if you have a reduction when you're young, say 18, your boobs very well might grow back.

For a bit of perspective, here's how I looked before the surgery:

Summer 2012.  That skirt is at my natural waist. Yep. It was bad.

note the unfair distribution of boobage. October 2012.

Senior pictures. Can you even see my belt?

Talent show, senior year. That face says, "this dress was a poor fashion choice"

Post Surgery:

 would you look at that tiny boob bump?

 prom.  (you can finally see my Belle dress! yay!)

 even with smaller boobs, strapless was a bad decision.

 That awkward moment when you boobs and belly bump are the same size.

Lately:

 Harvest Ball, Sept 2013.  Look at them bulging out...

Catholic swing dance, January 2014

what the hell?

Boobs suck.

Period.

And I'm probably going to have to have another fucking reduction...fml

Merry Christmas and other updates

I hope you all had a merry Christmas this year. This was my first one as a college student and first time opening with the adults at family Christmas. I got a fire safe, which my mother added to my Christmas list without my consent, and a scent warmer thing I will never use. Oh well. I got warm clothes, pajamas, a sweatshirt and a sweater, boots, and lots of gloves, so I'm happy.

I also hope to start posting here for a different reason. Once a week, I will be posting a weight update. I haven't been this heavy in my entire life, and it is neither healthy nor okay.  My pants size is bigger than my mother's and she's not a small woman. I'm also ten pounds heavier than her. She's buying me a scale and sending me a dollar for every pound I lose. I need to lose about 70 pounds, so that's a commitment. It's also quite a motivator. An extra $8 a month? I'll take it. Fun money!

Anyway, that's about it for me. I got pretty much straight Bs which is okay. Religion, Satan in Literature, IOC, Stage Combat, Music Theory 1, Cantabile, composition and piano lessons- all done. 

Next semester I'm taking Literary Afterlives (retellings and adaptions in literature-doesn't sound like me at all. I may get to use my beauty and the beast research as well) intro to communication, radio production and broadcasting, Spanish, cantabile (choir) and  composition and voice lessons. It's gonna be awesome. 

Evolution of a College Freshman in Dining Services

First Week:
"Oh my gosh, look at all the food! Pizza all the time, soft serve ice cream, waffle makers...yogurt, english muffins, sandwich lines, ethnic food, juice,  comfort food...how am I ever going to eat all this?  I'm never going to get sick of eating at DS!"

Next Week:
"Why are all the upperclassmen eating cereal? For dinner?  Don't they realize that there are better foods to eat than that?  I mean, look at this treasure trove!"

After the first month:
"Oh, look!  I remember that dish!  Guess they're starting to repeat themselves.  Oh well, I liked it."

Sometime:
"Why do they put all the good desserts out on the same day!?!?  Don't they know that I'm trying to avoid the freshman fifteen?  How am I supposed to pick?!?"

The Next Day:
"And now they have no good dessert...curse you DS!"

After the second month:
"I just want food that isn't gross...and that I'm not sick of.  This food is boring."  *googles college cafeteria hacks*

Inevitably, you get sick:
"I CAN'T EAT ANYTHING BECAUSE MY STOMACH WILL REJECT IT!  Bananas, toast...oh good, they have applesauce today..."

After the third month:
*eating mozzarella sticks, nibbling on a piece of chicken, eating an ice cream cone and a bowl of granola, rice crispies, life, and capt'n crunch constitutes dinner* "Get me home!"

Luckily, Thanksgiving break is only three days away!

My Blues Book

Blue.  I've slowly discovered that my new favorite color is blue.  A deep royal blue.  As I sit here, I can see my new royal blue sweatshirt on the ground next to me, my turquoise blue bath towel, my blue glass coffee mug, (fun fact: my future kitchen shall be decorated in blue glass and white ceramic) and I can see my black and blue ribbon board, with my blue Jack Frost bow, my blue "Kiss the Girl" mini bow, the blue on my Flounder mini, my blue plastic bowl, fork and spoon I used to eat ramen for lunch today, my blue pen, my blue plaid headband..you get the idea.

But not only that, but I've been feeling kind of blue the last few days.

So a few weeks ago, I received a compliment that really made my day.  Then I got to thinking...what about all those days that I really need a pick-me-up and don't get one?  What can I do to pull myself out of the doldrums on those hard days?

Since coming to college, things have gotten insane.  Papers are due, applications to fill out, the freshman fifteen to avoid...and there are days I just want my mommy to hug me. College is hard.  It's a good hard, but there are still times I feel like giving up.

That's when I came up with the idea for a blues book.  You know these little things?

They're kind of useless, but you still buy them because they're frickin' adorable. Well, I bought a set.  I used one for my packing list (literally almost used up the whole book, but that was because after the 14 pages I used for the actually list, I used several more, writing one letter on each page that spelled out "I HATE PACKING!" so that I could use it as a flip book...yeah).  I started a food diary in another, but quickly gave up on it.  The third was pink, and my sister wanted it, so I gave it to her.
Anyway, I ripped the two pages of food diary in the first one out and gave this little notebook a makeover:

 

I just covered an old notebook with blue duct tape, even made a little blue duct tape bow for decoration.  But what is this cute little book for?

The title page will tell you (my hand is covering the "Property of: My Name" part)

"For use in case of depression, the blues, the doldrums, ect."
A Collection of Pick-Me-Ups and Compliments

       

Some examples of the first entries into my Blues Book. My hope is that the next time I'm feeling down and like no one in the world cares about me, I'll have something to prove me wrong.  I hope to fill it up with nice things people have said about me.

I also hope that this will catch on.  It doesn't have to be a little notebook like this.  You could buy a little journal or even use a regular sized notebook.  However, the little notebooks will fill up faster, so it'll appear like you have more.

Anyhow, that's it for now.  Keep writing and don't be blue. :)