Sunday, October 24
Had another shooting spree around Tallahassee today with my beautiful Phi Mu ladies.
Where we went:
The Tallahassee Capitol Building,
The Tallahassee Train Station,
and Maclay Gardens
Some of my faves of Dani: (although there are too many to really be able to pick)
Some of my faves of Tori:
Some of my faves of Megan:
And some of my fave group shots:
Our family line, but Taylor should be between me and Megan.
If you want to see all 500 and some of the pictures we took today, check out my Flickr.
Oh, and this one. I wish the tree wasn't in the background because you can hardly tell they're throwing leaves in the air, but this picture makes me feel like it's not 100 degrees in Florida and like it's almost November. lol
Friday, October 22
I've never been good with money. Today is no exception. I've been wanting a new camera bag forever. (No, this statement is not just another of one of my hyperbolic tendencies). My dad got me a new camera bag for my DSLR a while ago. It's black. It's functional. It's not cute. And worst of all, in my opinion, it screams camera bag.
Since Mike and I are jetting off to Italy in December to spend a week at my dad's house and do some other touristy things for Mike's first trip abroad, I came to the conclusion that I deserved, and that it was time, for a camera bag update.
Even though I lived in Europe for 8 years, I never really got into photography until after I left for college. I have taken hardly any pictures of beautiful Napoli, and maybe only 1 or 2 of Roma. This trip, I am determined to go picture taking crazy. My qualm with carrying my current camera bag around is that it looks like a camera bag. My logic is that thiefs are more likely to target something that has thousands of dollars worth of camera equipment in it than a silly purse with tampons and lipstick and maybe some loose change. Maybe not?
I did a lot of research and only managed to find super duper expensive (but amazingly adorable) camera bags. And I mean upwards of $200 dollars for a camera bag, people. My goal was to find something that looked more like a regular purse rather than a bulky camera bag. There's not really much out there.
BUT I didn't fret, and after hours of searching I found my perfect camera bag.
It's made by Jill-E and I knew I wanted it the moment I saw it. My problem was that on the Jill-E website, it costs $140.00. Way too much dinero for my teeny tiny wallet.
BUT I decided to channel my inner bargain hunter and set off to Ebay to attempt to find this bag or something similar. And whattya know? I DID! I DID! I DID! I found my beloved canary yellow camera purse on Ebay for only $89.00. It's still a little steep, but a $50 discount! Can't argue with that. I haven't bought it yet. I'm still thinking about it. Thinking about purchases is something I NEVER do, but I'm really trying to save money. HAH. If I buy it, I'll buy it on Monday.
Wednesday, October 20
Well, I just love the holidays in general. Except Halloween. I think Halloween is dumb. Last Halloween, I spent the night ignoring the door bell and putting up my Christmas tree. It's not like America's children need more candy, anyway. It's never too early too early to get in the holiday spirit.
My mom's Xmas tree is always way amazing.
My Christmas tree is sub-par.
Here are the top 5 reasons why I love the holidays.
1. Holiday Candles. Since I'm so kitchenally challenged, I tend to depend on my cookie scented candles to give the illusion of domesticity at Christmas time. Starting around Thanksgiving I switch out my "fresh cotton" and "sand & sun" candles for "pumpkin spice" and "warm vanilla cookies" candles. They trick people into thinking that I might have actually baked some sort of treat that could be classified as anything other than a natural disaster in the recent past.
I love Christmas so much I made a Christmas Tree costume for Halloween last year.
2. The weight gain. So what if I'm getting fat? So is everyone else. Well, at least every other normal, obsessive compulsive cookie eating, wine and cheese addict. Plus since the weather is colder I can use that to disguise my absolute disdain for physical activity. "Oh, it's just so cold out I don't want to go running. Hypothermia is a real threat, you know." AKA "I hate movement." You can just cage the judgment right now and I don't care if I'm a huge hypocrite.
3. The snuggling. Mush alert. I can't wait for me and Mike's first holiday season together. There's something plain awesome about curling up underneath a snuggie made for two, holding our hot cocoa through our convenient blanket sleeves and sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace DVD. Plus I'm going to buy us matching footy pajamas because I have yet to really test Mike's "putting up with my crap" threshold. But in all seriousness...I'm excited.
4. The weather. Not only is it a great way for me to catapult myself into obesity, it's way better than the Florida summertime heat. I'd rather be cold than sweaty, and I love winter clothes because I can hide my flab underneath lots of layers! It's like camouflage for my rolls. Plus there's something magical about the crisp air and being able to see my breath. And nobody can deny the delight that comes from stepping on crunchy, frosted leaves, or finding an icicle dangling from the roof.
Bella loves Christmas.
Tuesday, October 19
Anyone who has ever taken a college class will agree with me on this one: there are always certain types of kids in every class. This is especially true in my fiction workshops. I always notice four specific types of students, no matter what.
1. I call her, Little Miss Confused. She’s not afraid to open up and talk, but she always starts off with, “Like, I was really confused for most of the story.” As soon as I see her about to speak I know exactly what’s coming. It takes all of my will power not to stop her mid-breath and say, “let me guess, you didn’t get it.” Of course I’m not that rude or obnoxious, at least not in public, so I sit there stifling my giggles and my judgment.
2. I call him, Mr. Expert on Everything. This kid knows all about all. Oh, you wrote a story about a psychotic war veteran? Well, Mr. Expert on Everything happens to know all the side effects of sedatives, as well as all of the symptoms of every minute disorder known to man. He knows that Killer's Karma is actually Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and that if a patient displays constant violent behavior, he'd most likely be kept in isolation. And you probably got most of the details in your story wrong, according to Mr. Expert on Everything. Your story on vultures in South Africa? Mr. Expert on Everything can help you distinguish between the different kinds of bacteria that might grow on their beaks. Fairies and Trolls? Homosexuality in The Netherlands? The price of nail polish remover in Russia? A story you fabricated from the depths of your creative lobe? He's right, you're wrong.
3. I call him, Sir Silent. He seldom speaks. He sits in the corner observing, and I'm usually scared of him. He seems like the type that would rank high on the Columbine Risk Factor list. The one time he spoke the entire semester, everyone stared in awe, surprised that his vocal chords even functioned. It's like he was revealing the secret to nuclear fusion or something, not simply stating that maybe a more realistic connection between the character and the reader would make for a more believable plot. Even though his observation was nothing profound or life changing, it's like his one remark trumps anything anyone else has ever said or will ever say and I hate him in all his quiet mystery.
4. I call him Sparky. He's the dependable one, even when we are critiquing a mediocre story about zombies or vampires, we can count on him to open up the discussion. He always talks first, and he talks really slow to give the illusion of dedicating enough time to a really awful story. "I...really...liked...your...use...of...the...letter...A." Thanks, Sparky, for making me feel like less of a jerk for not having anything nice to say about this piece of crap. At least I'm not the only awful writer in this class.
Category • Writing
Thursday, October 14
Mexican is by far my favorite food genre. I don’t know whether it’s the tequila or the queso, but I ALWAYS crave Mexican, especially the kind that singes my taste buds and makes my eyes water. I’m even a VIP member at La Fiesta. I get sweet text message coupons like 99 cent tacos, dollar margaritas, and FREE 10 more pounds I don’t need on Mondays and Tuesdays.
1. I always eat WAY TOO MANY chips and salsa. And I don’t mean I enjoy a few warm, crunchy bites over casual conversation and then complain about being full because I don’t want people to judge me for being a fat ass. I mean I hunch over the table and basically shovel food into my mouth. I always ask for more salsa. First of all, I know I can eat one or two mini bowls on my own, and second, I’m an unashamed double-dipper and I know that freaks out certain germaphobic, high maintenance, bubble-dwellers.
2. I never eat chips without ordering queso, too. There’s something about that cheesy, creamy goodness that I can’t say no to. I NEED IT. My Mexican experience feels incomplete if I don’t get any. And I’ll share with you but will secretly hate you a little more every time you dip a chip in my bowl. WHY DON’T YOU JUST GET YOUR OWN.
3. I always order the same thing. I either get a ground beef and cheese quesadilla or a taco salad. I never deviate. Okay, sometimes when I feel like I’m not following my ten step program to obesity I’ll order TWO quesadillas.
4. It’s like Mexican food shuts off my stomach’s “full” guage as soon as my brain lets it know that’s what’s for dinner. I could seriously singlehandedly eat La Fiesta into bankruptcy in one sitting. I almost feel obligated to warn them before I come. BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES, LOCK UP THE QUESO, HIDE THE TEQUILA.
5. I love margaritas. I used to hate tequila. Maybe because I used to think you had to drink it with worms. Then I discovered Margaritas and my life changed. First of all, it’s so fun to say, especially when you channel your inner Jose. MARRRGARITAAAAAS AYE AYE AYE. Second, they’re dirt cheap. Probably because they’re about as healthy as dirt, if even. Third, they come in different flavors and sizes and colors and they’re about the only drink that is basically it’s own species…margaritas are basically people so I feel some sort of divine, inebriated connected to them. Ok, that might be a stretch.