Hipster music and feels.

It's weird not being in the same place as someone else in a relationship. Any relationship. And any difference in space: time, morally, spiritually, etc.
There's a time when differences become too overwhelming. 
When you're too opposite...it's not charming or exciting anymore, it's aggravating and detached. 

I am constantly teetering on the edge of the pit that is filled with, not snakes but, my quarter life crisis. It's just down there...growing; it feasts on my student loans, full class load, and lack of a job...so it has plenty to eat...and then I sit and think about all the relationships, here and all over the place, that need attention. I think about how I don't have any money, how I can't see my family whenever I want, how there is no nature around me, (insert something whiny here, I'm sure I've thought it.) I am toxic when I get into my own head. 
You want to know a really good way to make sure you're really never in the same place with ANYONE...EVER? Spend all of your time thinking about the ways you're different. Congratulations, you've concocted the perfect poison to kill off any relationship. 

I haven't been home  in about 7 months. That's the longest I've gone without cuddling my dog, or having coffee bean, or seeing the ocean...ever. I feel like God could sense my growing despair and blessed me with visits from my superhero parents, an accidental layover for a dear friend, and another quick day trip from my Scotty have been enough to hold me over. That was all it took to make me realize that
The relationships that are meant to survive always will. 
The difference in time can lead to not talking as much. The difference in opinions might lead to fights (Christina vs. Britney). The difference in beliefs might make you have to change the way you see something.The differences might mean feeling a bit disconnected for a while, but if we're loving, reveling, cherishing, learning from, admiring, studying, and listening to these differences...we won't fall apart. 

Sometimes it takes being outside with some iced coffee, eating breakfast at 2pm, HAIM, and some friends to realize it.
Sometimes you have to take a random road trip to visit an old teacher/dear friend and drink tequila from the bottle while watching Rikki reruns. 
Sometimes you have to be standing with your boo-thang at a Dave Matthews concert, look out and see the Chicago skyline and realize how absolutely infinite you feel. 
The moments that bring you back are all around you; you have to look for them, but once you find them...my word, are they powerful. 

SIDENOTE: 
I just wanna take a minute to discuss something I don't understand about relationships: SHARING.
Why? I spent my entire life wanting my own room, wanting my own space, wanting to have my own bathroom. MY GAWD, MY OWN BATHROOM. (My poor father had to share a bathroom with me and my sister while my mother got her own.) Now, does my mother deserve her own bathroom? OF COURSE. Why? Because she's a little gnome queen. Should my father and I have to be at my sister's mercy for hot water or any kind of mirror time? I thought not. Then, you meet someone, all of a sudden you're splitting meals. You leave "lounge wear" at their place. You (more likely than not) end up deciding to move in together or marry and then you're sharing a tiny little apartment in WeHo or Lakeview and you share cabinet space, bathroom space, couch space, BEDROOM SPACE, every space. WHY THE WHY. It's like you decide that you want them to use everything and it's ok. no use the last of the shampoo, drink the last soda, use my toothbrush. NO. I don't get it.

Hymns and Memories.

This was my first Easter not being with my family. I didn't realize how much I really wanted to be there until I couldn't be. I loved the people I spent my day with and I had such a good day!...and yet here I am...baking muffins and listening to gospel music at 10:30 on a Sunday night...thinking about weather.

Weather. White people love complaining about the weather.

The warmth of the day made me nostalgic. I'd forgotten what warmth felt like. I also realized, this 76 degrees doesn't feel like California's 76 degrees. The weather here is different; the weather brings different feelings and memories. Everything is different. Rain, sun, cold, wind.
Mostly the wind.
Chicago wind breaks umbrellas. Chicago wind blows up your dress. Chicago wind makes incisions in your skin and makes a home right in your bones. Chicago wind rips the beanie completely off your head and carries it in its aggressive, choppy, abusive arms all the way down Wabash Avenue. Chicago wind makes you burst into laughter with its absurd and
California wind curls your hair. California wind carries the scent of churros, weed, and sea salt. California wind is a relief from the direct beams of sun shining on the back of your neck. California wind tickles. California wind is filled with Ke$ha lyrics and too much bass. California wind lifts you up.

It's not good. It's not bad. It's just different.
I appreciate the warmth in a way I never thought I would.
I appreciate the sun. I appreciate not having to wear two pairs of gloves.

The weather here is a really poorly timed, D list comedian style joke. On the first day of Spring it snowed quite a bit and as I was staring into our courtyard and thinking of all the terribly, horrible, awful, no good, very bad things I wanted to happen to the snow when I saw a singular, crunchy, burnt orange, weathered leaf fall from the roof and drift down and land so delicately atop the snow. Where did that come from? It's been 6 months since trees had leaves with colors that can only be found in Fall or underneath a jeep that has been driving too hard in the ocean water. How did it survive? And then I couldn't help but think that if that lonely leaf had kept its color and life through winter and  the beginning of spring, so could I.

My Easter was delightful; I couldn't have asked for better company or festivities.
I bought a purple dress and told people that that would bring Spring....I like to think I brought that back on my own. You're welcome.
I'm just wrapping it up by dreaming of my sweet California family, hymns, and all the cousins getting an equal amount of Easter eggs. The little things.

Clean sheets and Evian.

I'm taking a philosophy class...don't worry, I'm just as confused about that concept as you are. I'm from the middle of nowhere, California. How many deep thoughts have I REALLY had? If you guessed zero, that's still too many. I'm supposed to be evaluating the meaning of life...if we're real...what is life? What is the meaning of flerpflerpflerp...I don't care. I've tried to engage, but I just don't care. I'm a person of faith. I don't mean that in the religious sense, even though that is true too, I just mean in general. If there is something that I don't understand and someone explains it to me, I buy it. I think I have enough discernment to not be dubbed gullible, but I do trust people...probably more than I should, but whatever. I realized I don't belong in a class that can't even enjoy the most basic things in life because I absolutely live for the Little Things.

Little Things like when the house smells like cinnamon after baking.
Like the way the air smells like amber and cotton on that first day of summer.
Like when Evian water goes on sale.

Little Things like when your whole cast sings along to The Killers.
Like when the Golden Girls is on at an unexpected time.
Like when you and your best friend look at each other and have a conversation with no words.

Little Things like an ice blended chai with two add shots from Coffee Bean and Shell Beach at night.
Like when you make eye contact with an older person on the train and the smile in their eyes teaches you something about life.
Like when your niece or nephew grabs your hand and wants to pull you outside to climb on a tree or blow bubbles.

Little Things like when the Friends theme song comes on at Vons.
Like having friends visit and leave the Naked 3 palette because they know you want it.
Like when your boyfriend looks up Angela Lansbury so he's able to talk about your obsession.

Little Things like when someone remembers you love red velvet.
Like when you get to wear the first dress on a breezy Spring day.
Like when babies wear headbands.

Little Things like when your devotional is perfectly applicable to your life THAT MOMENT.
Like when your boyfriend pours your coffee before his.
Like when you found the perfect volume to hear your friends and the N'Sync playlist while you drive with the windows down on the 101 in June.

These Little Things are some of the most perfect moments of my life and they didn't require any analyzing. Are we real? Is this a dream? Is this desk actually in front of me? Eh. I don't know. Quite frankly, I'm a bit busy being happy about the fact that my life is happening to even bother questioning whether it's real or not. Just enjoy it.** Be the Light, kids. You'll slow down the aging process.


**Keep your eyes on Katie Boeck, y'all. I've been in awe of her since high school and she's only gotten better since; listen to her and love her.

The Dating Chronicles of the Socially Inept

It's been brought to my attention that I might be the foremost expert when it comes to dating, so I thought I'd impart some of my wisdom onto you kind folks here in the blogospheric realm of the interwebs.

Things you DON'T say when someone is trying to kiss you:
1) Pico de Gallo
             Why are you talking about salsa? WHY. I feel like I could elaborate, but I think you can gather  why talking about salsa is makes little to no sense.
2) "Hoss is dead"
             No one knows what you're talking about. When you say "Hoss is dead" in reference to your phone being dead, no one knows that you're talking about something that happened 10 years ago when you were visiting your father's mentor and his son.
3) Bring up the fact that you just talked about Bonanza
             Why are you talking about visiting your father's mentor and his son? Don't. And if the person you're with doesn't know that you were referencing Bonanza when you talked about Hoss, which he probably doesn't, because he has a life, don't apologize for talking about Bonanza. He had no idea. Just keep going.
4) Sally Field.
              This one is tricky…because she is a goddess. So use your judgement on this one.
5) Ovaries
              I'm not sure why you brought the word ovaries into the conversation. Don't. Even if you're trying to say, "yeah, but you wouldn't really understand, because you don't have ovaries." it's not a good idea. He knows he doesn't have ovaries. Because he's a man. It's not a cute word. Don't say that…or intrauterine…or thrice. Which leads me to item number 6...
6) Talk.
           Just don't talk.

Something else, just as a tip, if you can't find a rubber band, don't try to tie your hair up with a straw. You'll end up looking like MacGruber instead of MacGyver, which is fine, just not super sexy. For the record, I'm not giving these tips because I've done them personally…I'm just saying, they're all things that sound like a bad idea...

DO:
I really haven't gotten that far in my research. Patience.

In other news, I'm going to be back in California this time next week. My first course of action will be to drink Coffee Bean on the beach. The 805 won't know what hit it.

Angry wind and Thanksgiving vigilantes.

Fear not, y'all, I haven't blown away. There are so many things I've learned since moving to the Midwest and the best thing yet, is that they are so used to terrible weather that it doesn't even bother them, it just makes them mad because they know they're missing a game. I am not in that boat. I started writing my will. I left my $20k in debt to my parents. (End Will.) I met the sweetest older woman who was my guide through the whole thing and even ended up driving me home (I mean, once we got the OK.) I was stuck at church, which is probably the best place to be. Who wouldn't want to be surrounded by little angels and prayer warriors in the midst of a tornado? Well, apparently this is mild weather, so uh..thanks, Chicago for being gentle…?

Thanksgiving with the California orphans. What a blessing it will be. I'm so excited to have my baby cakes, Scotty here. The first night involved a lot of homework, Flat Top and frozen yogurt…and the explosion of all the vessels in my face. Do you have those there? I think you do. Well, mine exploded from the cold. brr. What I learned this week is that I'm super thankful for all the support I get from back home. I moved across the country, ok? Like…super far away. Far from the sun, the love, the light, the support, and the comfort that is my home. My adorable little LA apartment, my perfect roomie, and my family and friends only to come somewhere I don't know. Typically, people feel abandoned, and that could not be more opposite in my case. I have parents who love me unconditionally and people checking on me from Hawaii, Colorado, Texas, and all over! I'm not sure what I've done to deserve so many incredibly loving, gifted, supportive, talented people in my life, but I'm grateful everyday for them. I also realized that my friends and I are BORING. We just are. We like to watch TV, take walks, ride the train, drive places, read, talk….that's about it. That's the coolest. I'm so blessed and excited that I have friends that are just as boring as I am. My best friend and I were talking about both wanted to paint our nails the same color, and my day was made. It's the little things, guys. It really is.

Thanksgiving is over and now it's Christmas. It's Christmas from now until mid-February in my book and all the nay sayers can just shut their faces.  I always get so irritated the weeks surrounding Thanksgiving. It's as if these little vigilantes start popping up from the ground and feel the need to fight for "Thanksgiving celebrations." NO ONE TALKS ABOUT THANKSGIVING ANY OTHER TIME. No one…that is, until they want you to slow down your Christmas lovin'. Well, now, that is no more. IT IS CHRISTMAS. Now, I'm grateful this Chicago winter is easing me in, because quite frankly, I'm not sure I'm ready for the abrupt change, but I"m leaving in 14 days and uh….there's been like, two days of snow flurries. GET IT TOGETHER, CHI-TOWN. I've been dreaming of a white Christmas for like…ever. and now I'm here…and nothing.
I did have the privilege of seeing Elf the Musical…just as incredible as it sounds. It is so cheesy and adorable, you can't help but smile. I'm never NOT excited for Christmas; it's not as though I need to have something put me in the Christmas spirit. If you were to tell me we were celebrating Christmas in April, I'd think that were the best idea ever, but there is something about seeing a movie or show that just sends me over the top. It's as if that is the switch and now all my Christmas merriment can be in full swing and here we are…in full swing. :)


Sad note: I am reading about Paul Walker's death and I'm hearing people talk about it and it breaks a piece of my heart each time I hear something new. It's odd how some people mourn the loss of someone they didn't know and really didn't care about until they were gone, and it's also funny how upset some people are by those people. Sometimes I wish we could all strip down news like that to the basics: A human lost his life.
The moment we stop being affected by news like that, we're doing something wrong.

HalloThanksGiveMeChristmas.

Halloween came. Halloween went. Who cares about halloween? Not I. I got cookies delivered to my door and I wore a black dress and pretended I was Jessica Lange. Am I the only one that can't get down with Halloween? I just don't care enough. I don't enjoy candy that much and it was raining here. I saw people walking down the street and they looked busted before they even went to the party! The coolest costume I saw was the suit and tie walking down the street with his briefcase and he had on a Daft Punk helmet. That guy wins all the points for Gryffindor. Speaking of Halloween, why do we love zombies so much? My roommate mentioned a Zombies in Media class my school offers, because art school, and I started to wonder why do we identify with zombies so much. That really doesn't say much about this generation if the one thing we really think represents us is a walking corpse. Our grandparents had Audrey Hepburn and Frank Sinatra and we get Kristen Stewart and dead people (….arguably the same thing)? I think we all look like zombies. When I get on my elevator EVERYONE has their headphones in…you're going down to the 2nd floor…that's not necessary! We're losing our ability to speak our thoughts, feel the feelings, and just BE with people. I"m making a commitment to leave my iPod at home more often and let me tell you, people are just as crazy as I thought they were and it's beautiful. Give it a try.

I had a friend visit me from California, well, she came from North Carolina, but whatever, and there's something incredible about having a piece of home brought to you and I was reminded AGAIN how much I love it here. THERE ARE LEAVES and a giant object that looks like a kidney chilling in the middle of downtown. That's all anyone needs in life! And it made me realize how comforted I am by the fact that I know I'm going to die in California. That's where my Third Act will take place. It's comforting because I know where I started and where I'll end up and it leaves the entire middle part open to interpretation. I'm dying in California, I don't need to live there…kind of exciting. And morbid. Mostly exciting.

I keep telling myself that I'll feel better about finishing my project if I create the right atmosphere. So, I have my coffee in hand, finishing a blow pop (that completely tore up the roof of my mouth. I can't be the only one that experiences that struggle), basking in the wonderful smell of a Lake Sunset candle, which really just smells like Spiced Vanilla, and a watching a million episodes of Boy Meets World. So my paper on sea otters…yeah…sea otters...will probably involve a lot of references to Cory and Topanga, because they are the answer to EVERYTHING. Totally right atmosphere. This project is practically doing itself now…No. Still me. Still not happening.

Oh and…:) I'm so excited for the snow. The joy. The glisten. The red and green. CHRISTMAS.

Hunchback Skype chats and "The Dance"

So, here's the thing about the weather in Chicago...yeah. It's cold.

Snow in October. SnOctober. NononononononononononononononononononoNO. STOP. It's OCTOBER. Hasn't this city seen the movies? It starts a week before Christmas, almost ruins Christmas and then it starts magically snowing a beautiful soft snow on Christmas Day. (I've seen a lot of Hallmark movies, I know how snow works.)

I pulled my first official all-nighter this week. That wasn't one of my best decisions. By all-nighter, I mean I drank coffee at midnight, which led to me singing Meet Virginia while prancing around my living room. Because college. So incase you were worried,  I haven't gotten any less awkward. The more I meet people the more I realize that. And I, much like my father, take a long time to process things. Is this something I should be doing? How do I feel about this? While everyone else is like, I don't know, Danielle. It's just lunch, make up your mind! It takes me a solid three weeks to warm up to people and I have definitely implemented the whole, "If you need an answer now, the answer is no." rule. I just really wanted to solidify my reputation as being the 23 year old with the personality of a 74 year old. And that's where I'm at (my motto for right now and the title of the book Scott and I are writing.)

I hate change. I really do. I'm the worst. My parents got a new fence in our backyard about 10 years ago and I'm still adjusting. Which is probably why I have friends for so long. I haven't really grasped that sometimes people aren't meant to be in your life forever. I like to think I'm really good at picking them, so why would I want to see them go? Something I really pride myself on is the ability to maintain friendships. Near or far, I like to think I'm good at keeping up with people, but there's a time when you have to let it go. I'm happy here. Genuinely happy. It's freezing cold, I wear nothing but frumpy sweaters, my dresses are packed away, and I still found my happiness. At some point, I need to realize some people can find their happiness without me. Stings, right? Like, that's not possible. I bring the Christmas cheer and sassy year round, there's no way someone is happy without ME. (Don't pretend you haven't thought it.) Then I realize, I want them to be happy. I want people to feel how I'm feeling, even though 94% of the time I'm really not sure what emotion that is. Hashtag WritersLife.


Also, in a (stupidly unsuccessful) attempt to avoid writing a paper, I got an Instagram. Always fashionably late to the party. Or, I'm there to help clean up...which seems to be the case this time.