Day in the Life

9:03 pm, January 30, 2016.  (So, yesterday night.)  I took the elevator down one flight of stairs and hobbled across the building to visit my friend Anna in her room for an evening of chick flick watching and homework doing.  (But, let's be honest, what did we actually do? Not much homework.)  You'd never guess, but Anna's big into Hallmark movies.  I mean, she's probably seen all of them.  She recognizes like every single actor - "I liked him better when his hair was longer and he was with that blonde girl" - and she's got the basic plot structure down to a science.  We watched a Hallmark movie.

She'd been marathoning, but by the time I got there it was "Dater's Handbook."  You know, the one where the girl has a bad dating history and is about to give up until two handsome men fall into her lap simultaneously and she has to choose just one (it's a hard life), but then a conflict happens and all seems lost until the dramatic resolution in the last ten seconds of the movie.  This one featured Cass, Robert, and George.  You guys, George was the worst and Robert had the cutest dog ever, but of course Cass chose George first before realizing how awful he was and meeting Robert at the lantern festival to say she was sorry.  I yell at the TV during chick flicks more than most probably all all guys yell at the TV watching football. 

The problem with me and Hallmark movies is that, sometimes, I have a hard time understanding that they are not reality.  I mean, I realize that it's probably unlikely that I'll be seated with a handsome stranger at a wedding and immediately hit it off, happen serendipitously upon him the next day while we're both out running (in our matching running outfits, with our very similar dogs who immediately become BFFs), that he'll find out my mom's favorite band and take both of us to see them in concert (complete with limousine service), and we'll finally realize how much we love each other right at the moment that the lanterns are released at the festival.  But it's possible. It definitely is.  Statistically speaking, it could happen to me any time.  So, last night, after being reminded by "Dater's Handbook" of the (albeit improbable) reality that is a good Hallmark ending, I told Anna that I was going to get up early to do my hair today.  I said something like "I might be meeting my future husband tomorrow, so I have to be ready."  And  you know what? I did.  I even washed my hair in the same morning, and I went to church where all the attractive Christian young men are, totally convinced that I was probably going to meet my future husband.

Well, bummer you guys, because today (so far) is not that kind of day. It's 8:34 p.m., and all I've gotten is a yak from a girl hoping that I was gay. So.

After church, I got back to my room with about 15 minutes until I needed to leave for a Mary Kay appointment.  I hadn't had lunch, so I ate a couple spoonfuls of peanut butter instead.  I do that a lot.  I ALMOST ran out the door without brushing my teeth, but then I realized that peanut butter breath is not appealing, so I stopped to take care of mine.  I didn't bother to turn the lights on, because I was in a hurry and I am nothing if not efficiency itself.  I grabbed the toothpaste and made sure to use plenty - you know, to realllly mask the smell of peanut butter.  I was brushing so fast that it took me a while to realize that it didn't taste the same. 

"Oh, it must just be kind of old." (What? No. Why would that even-? No.)

As I continued brushing, I realized that what I was distributing all over my teeth was definitely not expired toothpaste.  This toothpaste was just way too not-toothpastey.  It tasted bitter, and it wasn't dissolving in my mouth - it was slimy and it wasn't going away.  As reality set in, I checked the bottle, juuuust in case.

I turned on the light and looked at the tube on the counter.

pc: google

And promptly spit my mouthful of anti itch cream straight at the mirror, because I didn't have time to aim for the sink.  And screamed something like EW EW EW LOOK WHAT I JUST DID EW EW EW and ran into the living room and threw the stupid anti itch cream at my roommate, who, bless her soul, did not throw it back at me, but calmly read the label and told me it wasn't poisonous between fits of laughter. 

 

It takes a LOT of toothpaste to counteract the affects of brushing your teeth with hydrocortisone. 

 

Moral of the story: sometimes you go into the day expecting to meet your future husband, and most of the time (in my experience thus far) it's not that kind of day.  It's the kind of day where you brush your teeth with freaking anti itch cream and find out that someone is hoping that "the girl in the maroon baseball tee with the crutches" is gay. 

 

Good news, though.  I still believe in Hallmark movies.  Someone thinks I'm attractive.  My mouth isn't remotely itchy.  And I might be meeting my future husband tomorrow.

 

Allie

 

P.S. Lol at this real toothpaste that perfectly describes me.

 



How to Get People to be Nice to You

Basically, get yourself some crutches, stat.  (I just googled "stat." Your friends at Wikipedia say it's from the Latin statis, which means immediately.  If you were wondering.) Don't believe me? Please enjoy this log of nice things that people have done for me while I have been on crutches.

-told me "You rock" for walking up some stairs
-carried my food
-let me call shotgun before the car was even in sight
-opened doors
-said my name excitedly when we passed by each other
-gave up their seat for me on the bus
-let me get in front of them in line for the bus (at prime bus riding time)
-put the handicap ramp down so I could get on the bus as easily as possible
-not judged me for taking the elevator to go down or up one floor
-offered me a ride to my classes
-offered to switch beds with me
-offered to steal her ex-boyfriend's truck to take me to the doctor
-asked how I was doing
-gave me a quarter
-brought me crutches
-let me borrow various items (mixed vegetables, ibuprofen, ice pack, ace bandage, page protectors)
-told me "I hope you feel better"
-told me that I was probably capable of ice skating on one leg (it feels good to be believed in)
-offered to walk places that I didn't want to for me
-offered to carry me around

That's a twenty item list, if you weren't counting.  So, I'm just saying, invest in some crutches.  Use them when you feel a little hopeless about humans.  So, we might ignore each other and let doors close behind us most of the time, but crutch chivalry is still alive and well.

Really, though, what if we were always as nice to each other as we are to people on crutches?  I mean, I'm not about to use these things any more than I have to, but I like having people be nice to me.  Maybe we should all just view each other as if we're all on crutches.  Or maybe more like 50%, so that the other 50% could be the ones doing nice things for the crutch people.

Treat someone like they're on crutches today.

(Someone should make that into a cute graphic in white calligraphy over a picture of the outdoors or coffee or happy, attractive people or something.)

Oops, just did.  That's pinnable.  Go nuts.

Real talk, though.  God has been so cool in providing for what I need.  Within 12 hours of hurting myself, I had crutches, a ride to classes, a ride to the doctor, stuff to ice my knee with, and had received a really cool text about relying on Jesus for strength and joy from someone who had no idea that I needed it a little extra.  Also, I LOVE sleeping on the couch and I get to do it every day for at least this week, so I'm pretty content.  

Allie

Hi, Mom!

My mom misses the blog.

So I'm writing.  Except this time I'm just writing for my mom.  So, if you're not my mom and you're here, that's great, but just keep in my mind that this content might be a little bit off for you, because, well, you're not my mom.

College is good.  This semester especially - I'm pretty excited about it.  I have a couple of pretty cool opportunities coming up in the near future.  One of them involves working with the GVSU version of Humans of New York, which I'm so excited about.  The outline for what I'll be doing as a part of that is still very, very vague, but, man, I'm just so pumped anyway!

I've also recently (as in, earlier this afternoon) been offered an interview to become an RA at my school.  Interviews happen in two weeks, and whenever I get nervous I just drown that out with images of myself baking endless batches of cookies for my adoring residents.  It's pretty competitive here - there are about 200 of us going for 50 positions.  I feel like my camp counselor skills are going to come in handy, but we'll see.  Sometimes no amount of skill can white out the innate awkwardness in me that tends to rear its head in high-pressure, interview situations. 

Most of all, though, I'm excited to see what God does in my life.  I have a great community of Christian people to support me here at GV - our on-campus ministry is incredible, and I love my small group and my church.  Really, though, those things are usually the highlights of my week.  I'm blessed to have small group leaders and friends who not only teach the Bible but set an example of a life devoted to Jesus, and I am constantly thankful for that. 

God's been working around me in some very God ways, doing things that I know can only be of him.  He's calling me to live boldly, embracing the uniqueness of who I am as a child of God and proclaiming his name loudly and often.  I don't really like that last sentence, because that makes it sound like living for God like that looks like this perfect, heroic thing.  In real life, "embracing uniqueness" means being weird.  I'm still learning how that works (I always will be), and so it's almost always awkward and uncomfortable for at least one party involved (me) (let's be honest, probably both of us).  "Proclaiming his name loudly and often" equals saying "Jesus loves me" and strange times or staking out the doors of a church in order to pray for a barely-not-stranger whose name I can't remember (true story.)  Today, it ended up being sitting on the couch of my dorm room and struggling through the really tough questions with my roommate while a DIY project from earlier today crashed down over my head (literally - a shelf fell off the wall; the only casualty was the baby Christmas tree that I'm pretty sure was never going to grow anyway.)

Anyway: God's been doing stuff.  The idea that he's going to keep working and that I get to keep joining him makes me excited to get up in the morning.  The knowledge that he's already beaten any little thing that Satan wants to use to hold me back keeps me joyful beyond what makes sense based on the circumstances.  And I can rest easy knowing that he's plenty good enough to work something amazing through my awkward, muddled attempts at describing Him. 

So, that's what I'd tell my mom right now.  That, and also that I met a girl who went to the same college as my cousin the other day.  And how much I love the new skincare class opening that she texted me.  And that I love her. 

Allie