TOMS: From One to Another

I have a beautiful pair of olive green TOMS.  I’ve had them for more than a year and they’ve served me well.  Except for the fact that I’ve sewn them up numerous times since my big toe always breaks through in both shoes, creating a gaping hole.  I’ve had numerous people tell me that my shoes have holes in them, and I always nod my head and agree.  Yes, yes they do.  Nice of you to notice.

I think I’ve sewn them up at least 3 times and I’ve placed duct-tape on the inside of the shoe to act as reinforcement.  In the end it didn’t help because my toes broke through again.  I reached a point a few weeks ago when I decided that it was about time to get a new pair. 

Picking a new pair of TOMS is one of the hardest choices in the world of apparel, since they all seem to be so darn cute.  I’m not much of a sucker for shoes, but I do love TOMS and would buy every pair if I had enough money.  I sat down at the computer and browed through shoes for about an hour, then I went back the next day and picked a pair and ordered them. 

They were metallic light blue and cream, and I was extremely excited about getting them and wearing for the first time. 

A couple of days later I went back and checked the reviews on the shoes… during the few days since I had bought my shoes several reviews had begun to appear about the shoes being way too big and not fitting correctly.  One of the reviews was titled too long and skinny.  Great.  My feet are short and wide, the exact opposite.

The shoes arrived right on time and I walked down to the mailroom to pick them up.  I walked back to my room and sat the box down, then proceeded to just look at it.  I knew they would be too big and that they wouldn’t fit correctly.

I opened them anyway.

I was right.  Bummer.  Major bummer.  I’m kinda ticked about this.  I showed a couple of my friends the TOMS and put the new size 8s next to my old size 8s.  There was probably a difference of at least an inch in length.  I didn’t understand how in the world that could have happened.

At first I considered sending them back, but I didn’t want to pay for the shipping.  As I sat there and thought about it I decided my best option would probably be trying to sell them to someone at the school.  I posted to a few different group pages on Facebook, advertising the fact I would be more than willing to sell some brand new TOMS to whoever wanted them and fit in them. 

A few of my friends tried them on, and I met up with a girl from another dorm so that she could give them a try.  I can’t begin to imagine how flustered the prince from Cinderella must have been when he was trying to find Cinderella and allowing hundreds of other girls along the way to try on the glass slipper. 

If I was him I probably would have given up.

Suddenly, I had a major Ah-ha moment, which we had ironically been talking about is Psychology that week.  Something sparked in my brain and I picked up the shoes and marched toward the elevator.  I got off on level two and ran to my friend Kendra’s room.  (She and I went to the same high school together.  We were close friends before SPU, and remain so.) 

When I didn’t find her there I ran to the longue at the end of the hallway and was thrilled to see she was there.  “Kendra!  Do you want some TOMS?!” 

She laughed and asked if these were the ones I was trying to get rid of via Facebook.  I sighed and answered yes.  Then I handed her the shoes and said, “I remembered randomly that your feet are probably long and skinny and I guess I just assumed these might fit you really well.”

They did. 

Then, since we’re great friends, the argument about pricing began.  I insisted that she just take them, but she wanted to pay me.  In the end we decided she could pay me about half, if I let her.  I ended up letting her about a week or so later when she knew for sure that she wanted to keep them and had received several compliments on them. 

They were her first pair of TOMS and I had aided in the process of getting them to her.  I was actually rather proud of that fact.  Ironically, looking back on the pair that I picked, they would have looked way better on her from the very beginning.  The colors on them fit wonderfully with her blond and beautiful self, and I was happy that I had bought them.

Guess they were meant for her all along.

Which I’m quite happy about. 

Making the Best of It

I was the luckiest girl in the world the minute I stepped off that plane.

The California sky was clear and bright blue and it was 65 degrees out.  I couldn’t contain how bubbly I felt—I wanted to skip through LAX to get outside quicker and breathe in the sunny air.  There was more to my excitement than just air though…one of my dearest friends was waiting to pick me up and drive me to my aunt and uncle’s house and I hadn’t seen her since winter break.

Over break I learned quickly which of my high school friends I wanted to spend time.  Friendships in high school were easy because I saw everyone, every day.  But once we split apart some people were easier to remain friends with than others.

Aubrey has been one of my close friends since 3^rd grade.  It seems like our friendship is indestructible.  We’ve both had moments where one of us was more out of reach than the other, but we always ended up meeting halfway and reestablishing our friendship.  (It’s also beneficial that we live a 2-minute walk away when we’re both home.)

When she found out that I was going to be in CA for 36 hours she was determined to spend time with me and I’m so glad that she came up with a way for us to see each other.  It was the perfect plan.  My aunt and uncle wouldn’t get back from church and lunch until 1pm and my flight got in at 10:30am.  So Aubrey picked me up from the airport and we spent the best two and a half hours together.

I easily picked out her bright red car, LMac, from the line of cars outside the baggage claim and she got out to greet me with a hug.  There was a lot of laughter those first few minutes, and the rest of the time as well.   

It’s in those moments that it feels like no time has passed at all.  But then again I could hardly believe we were in the car together, in California.  Maybe when we were younger we had dreamt about visiting the beach someday and taking a vacation together and now we were actually in the same spot together with our parents a hundred miles away.

Who cared that it was only for 2 hours? 

The first stop was In N’ Out, since making a trip to California and not eating there at least once is unacceptable.  I didn’t have breakfast that morning, so that burger and milkshake were some of the best fast food I’ve ever had in my life.  Aubrey and I were chatting up a storm and catching up on everything we had missed in each other’s lives since we last parted. 

When we had finished we hopped back into the car, stopped quickly at Whole Foods to grab some flowers for my aunt and uncle’s family, then drove toward the beach.  Our internal map seemed to be pointing us there and we could sense that our feet needed to touch the sand and feel the cool, foamy, waves.

We ended up parking by Venice Beach and we wandered through the stands of a market before we ventured out onto the sand.  It was as if I was filled with life the moment I walked onto the beach.  I think Aubrey could feel it too because we both threw our heads back and laughed.  It took a few minutes to reach the water and the salty sweet air stuck to my face as the wind blew through my hair.

The ocean is freeing, and seemingly endless.  It love looking at it and being near it.

I asked Aubrey, “Do you think I’ll get in trouble if I throw all my clothes off and jump into the water?”

She gave me the don’t even think about it look and smirked. 

We spent the next half an hour taking pictures, chasing seagulls, running from waves, and basking in the sun and each other’s company.  It was too short and ended far too soon.

As we walked back through the Venice market we stopped by a stand with various bracelets and beach bags.  At first we intended to only look, but once you try something on and you like it you end up buying it.

Both of us got a bracelet.  Mine with red, yellow, and green strands and Aubrey’s with sky blue.  It was fitting for both of us.

Now each of us have memories on our wrists of the day we got to spend 2 hours together during my mini trip to California.  It was definitely one of the best 2 hours I’ve ever spent with Aubrey, which is saying something because we’ve spent hundreds upon hundreds of hours in each other’s company.

I can’t wait for the next time I see her.  

First: U-District with Sarah
Second: Orange Women (my dorm floor)
Third: Venice Beach

Snowpocalypse

This week I’ve been living in an uncanny winter wonderland.  It hasn’t snowed this much in Seattle since 1985, and no one knows what to do about it.

I’ve loved every second of it, especially since I’m from Colorado and 4 inches of snow in Colorado isn’t enough for us to even begin thinking about a snow day.  Try four feet and then we’ll talk about it.  Here, the Seattle governor has declared a state of emergency. 

Everyone here knows how to drive in rain, but once you throw slush and ice into the equation it’s a different story.  Not to mention Seattle is full of hills that are 30 to 40 degrees steep, which turns them into awesome sledding hills and danger zones once they’re covered.

The hill that everyone climbs to get to my dorm has become a sledding hill during the past 2 days.  People have been sledding in laundry baskets, large Tupperware, on trays from Taco Bell, and even “watch your step” signs that they stole from inside the dorm.  People have also had massive snowball fights that involve 50 or more people from all over campus. 

Basically, it’s been a huge party.  I haven’t had school in 6 days now, and if school gets cancelled for tomorrow I’ll have had 9 days off when I go back to class.

Yesterday I bundled up and went out to go sledding.  I ended up getting soaked but it was worth it in every single way.  As my friend Sarah put it, “If you put Elisabeth on the 6^th floor and snow on the bottom, a record will be set for the fastest a person has ever gone down 6 stories of stairs.” 

Since words hardly convey the joy of snow, I’ve decided to share pictures to continue the story.

The ends of a snowball fight that occurred below my window, making it impossible to study because all I wanted to do was watch! 

The hill in the bottom left of the picture is where everyone has been sledding for the past few days, not to mention accidentally slipping down while trying to walk to dinner.

Me with two of my closest friends at school taking some time to enjoy the snow!
 (Photo credit to Taylor M.H.E.) 

The graveyard behind SPU, covered in a beautiful and peaceful layer of snow.

I fogged up the window and drew some love.  What a beautiful day!

A Special Occasion

I got my laptop last May when I graduated from high school.  I was absolutely thrilled and thankful that I would have one for college and, hopefully, for many years after that.

At first there was no way I would even consider sticking something to the surface that wouldn’t come off very easily, which meant I definitely had no desire to put stickers on it.

After having my laptop for several months and noticing that many of my friends’ laptops had stickers on them I started to consider the idea of collecting a few of my own and making my computer a bit more personal. 

But what was I going to put on it?  What was something that I would absolutely love and not look at a few years later and ask why in the world did I think sticking that on my computer was a good idea? 

My first idea was a Colorado flag.  My roots would always belong there no matter where I went and, considering I already have a giant flag on my ceiling, adding a Colorado flag sticker to my laptop wouldn’t hurt. 

Last night I was sitting in my room studying (well, attempting to) with my best friend.  She kept cracking jokes and showing me things on Pinterest, and I couldn’t resist laughing.  I didn’t care that she was distracting me, I would rather talk to her than read any day.    

I told her the idea for my computer sticker and how I wanted to find a Colorado flag.  Before I knew it she got this really excited look on her face, jumped up, and said, “Wait here!  I’ll be right back, I have something for you.”

Then she was gone. 

I was a bit confused but I opened my book and tried to read anyway—I hadn’t even read a sentence when she reappeared, grinning, with her hands behind her back.

“This is for you!”  She handed me a teal sticker of the Seattle skyline, exactly like the green one she had on her computer.  All I could say was, “No way!  No way!” over and over while I laughed.  I couldn’t get over how cool and absolutely perfect it was. 

She sat next to me while I put it on my computer and gently advised me how to do it correctly without ruining the sticker. 

Once it was in place she said, “I had been saving it for a special occasion, and this is definitely one.” 

Gosh I love her.  

Hot Chocolate & Hash Browns

Since I’ve been back I haven’t really known what to write about.

I’m busy crocheting, or babysitting, or sleeping, or watching football (specifically Tim Tebow), which leaves me almost nothing to write about.

Well, that’s not completely true, but it doesn’t leave me enough to really elaborate upon.  Unless you wanted to hear me rant about Tim Tebow, but I figured everyone else on every sports channel and radio talk show is doing that for me already. 

Anyway…

I finally got to see one of my close friends from high school last night and we decided to go on a late night ice cream run, which quickly changed to a hot chocolate run due to the freezing weather.

Both of us agree that Starbucks’ hot chocolate is nothing special so we decided to find a different place instead.  Peet’s Coffee was closed and the coffee shop inside Whole Foods was closed as well.  Caribou Coffee was half an hour away, which didn’t leave us with many other options.

Then she suggested Village Inn and I knew of one right down the road, so we drove for 5 minutes and pulled into the parking lot.

We were both pretty sure that they wouldn’t mind a couple of college students wanting only a cup of hot chocolate.  But as soon as we entered my stomach grumbled.  Nothing surprising I guess.

It was difficult to hear what our waiter was saying since he mumbled a lot.  However, we both ended up with a mug of hot chocolate in hand—it just so happened that her mug matched the color of her fingernails, which we both got a good laugh out of. 

I couldn’t resist.  “Xavia, I really want some hash browns.  Do you think they’ll give me just a side of hash browns?”

This caused both of us to laugh again and receive some funny looks from the waiter when he took our order, but I couldn’t have been happier with hot chocolate, hash browns, and one of my best friends by my side. 

It’s an odd combination, that’s for sure.

But happiness comes in the most unique forms. 

Last night it happened to be something sweet, something salty (with some carbs), and a healthy portion of friendship. 

Perfect.  

The Bathroom Wallpaper

I went on a run with one of the girls from my floor this morning and after we returned we decided to stretch before we went inside.  We were talking about our families and telling different stories of the pranks we’ve played on them.

It made me realize that there was one I would really love to share.

It involves my beloved sister Rebecca, who is quite a few years younger than me, and one of my best friends Aubrey who is now hundreds of miles from me.   

My Mom decided when I was in 5^th or 6^th grade that she wanted to redo what we called the “kids” bathroom.  The walls were coated with ugly wallpaper that must have dated back to the 80s.  I can still remember what it looked like, with purple flowers and blue patterns that vertically lined the wall. 

Aubrey and I were in charge of peeling all of the old wallpaper off of the wall so that my Mom could prepare it for the new paint.  My middle brother joined in on the fun and before my Mom said “Go!” we were stripping it off the wall.  It had already been peeling and the task wasn’t too hard. 

However, there were certain spots that wouldn’t budge.  I don’t remember if I went to grab forks from the silverware drawer or if my Mom provided them for us, but I remember having the silver utensil in my hand and using it to scrape pieces off the wall.

10 to 15 minutes into the task my younger sister, who must have been about 6 years old at the time, wandered down the hallway into the bathroom to see what we were doing.

She stood in the doorway in her blue floral patterned dress (she was always wearing a dress during that era of her life), and she asked, “What are you guys doing.”

Aubrey casually answered, “Taking this off because your Mom wanted us to.”

Rebecca looked as if she didn’t believe us.

I can imagine the mischievous grin that spread over my face, and Aubrey’s as well, when we decided to step it up a level and see how far we could push things.

In a sarcastic and impish tone that should have been unknown to an 11 year old I said, “No Rebecca, actually we are destroying the bathroom wallpaper because we feel like it.”

Aubrey added, “Yeah.”

Before either of us knew what was happening, huge tears began to swell in Rebecca’s brown eyes and spill over onto the rest of her face.  She ran back down the hall and down the stairs.

Aubrey and I on the other hand couldn’t stop laughing.  We never stopped to contemplate that we might get in trouble for a teasing lie. 

However, within minutes my Mom marched up the stairs, took our forks away and sent Aubrey home.  Rebecca wasn’t the only one crying after that. 

We tried to tell my Mom, “But we told her the truth before!  We were just teasing!”  She wouldn’t hear any of it and after Aubrey was out the door, I was sent to my room.

I don’t remember who took off the rest of the wallpaper after that.  I assume it was my Mom, but the rest of the details about the bathroom being redone have escaped my memory completely. 

I should have been sorry, but I don’t think I really was. 

In fact, when I called Aubrey to discuss the story with her before I wrote about it we were both laughing all over again. 

Good times.  

First Impressions

I’m pretty sure everyone who has a Facebook has stalked someone else on Facebook at some point.  Even if you’re not intentionally “stalking” by dictionary standards, you are still looking through someone’s life online. 

There was a brief spiel at registration that went something along the lines of this:  “Alright guys. When you first find out who your roommate is, please don’t look them up on Facebook first.  Try calling them or actually getting in touch before you judge them and get a first impression on the Internet.”

That seemed like a great idea to me.  I could see where he was coming from and what he was trying to get at.

Did I go about it how he recommended?

No.

When I found out who my roommate was, I immediately got on Facebook and found her.  I wanted to at least see her profile picture so I would know what she looked like.  And then my intent was to call her and talk to her before she accepted my friend request.

That didn’t exactly happen. 

Her profile picture was of three girls.  I assumed that she was the one in the center.  She wasn’t, which left me extremely confused when I saw the rest of her pictures 10 minutes later.  I ended up talking to her on the phone a week later and I was still trying to get myself to see her as the girl on the left.

Thanks a lot technology.

I didn’t tell her this until a few weeks ago when some of my closest friends and I went out to dinner.  We all started talking about first impressions and it turns out I wasn’t the only one extremely confused by her profile picture.  One of the other girls jumped into the conversation and voiced how she also thought that my roommate was the one in the center. 

As we continued to talk more of us started to add other interesting things to the conversation.  A lot of us purposely put up a senior picture that was pretty.  We wanted the first image people saw to be a good one—we wanted to make a good “first impression”. 

The weird thing is, none of these first impressions were actually in person.  Yet we somehow still managed to jump to conclusions. 

All of us took turns telling each other what we first thought of each other after we saw pictures on Facebook, and some of the impressions were accurate, while others were way off.

I remember going through my now best friend’s photos on Facebook before I even truly knew her.  I had no idea that we would instantly click as well as we did. 

I had no idea about anyone.

I’m so happy that I now know everyone in three dimensions, not just two.

The Perfect Ingredients

Last night, my dorm room contained two more beds than normal, and 5 more girls than I was used to.

I haven’t had a slumber party in years.  I’ve had dozens of sleepovers but that is a little bit different.  Those tend to be with only one friend, maybe two.  It becomes a slumber party when there are more than three people.  And last night, including myself, there were six of us in my dorm room. 

We all took turns talking, and listening.  We had originally planned on watching The Breakfast Club, but plans quickly changed once we started chatting.  All of us brought a different element to the room, and none of us had our actual roommate with us that night.  Girls from 5 different rooms ended up in one, and the sixth was visiting from out of town. 

All of us sought advice, provided wisdom, consulted, comforted, and encouraged until the early hours of the morning.  There was also one ghost story thrown in there, which I enjoyed immensely. 

Most of us were sharing one blanket and at some point I warmed up some cookies that my Grandma had sent me all the way from Ohio.  They were still as good as ever so I shared them and ate as many as I wanted.

The night ended when the conversations began to trail off, and our eyelids began to feel the weight of sleepiness.  We all settled down, and some of us shared mattresses since there weren’t enough for all of us to have our own. 

Looking back on my high school years, I’m not sure I would have ended up in the same room with such a variety of people.  The six of us all have the most different personalities, but we somehow ended up in the same spot for the perfect night.

We brought grace, silence, energy, humor, sarcasm, quirkiness, and love—if friendship was a recipe, we would have been the perfect ingredients.

Different Looks for the Same Me

I have two different looks.  Probably more than that, but for the most there are two that continue to confuse people.  These looks result in the difference between having my bangs straight and down, or having them pulled out of my face.

I cut my hair 2 weeks before I left for SPU, so everyone at home was trying to get used to the new look; once I got here people recognized me as a girl with bangs.

Every so often I get sick of having them cover my face and I pull them up with a headband or bobby pins. 

This caused (and still causes) problems.

If I’m introduced to someone with my bangs down, that is how they will recognize me.  If I happen to have my bangs pulled up the next day and attempt to say hello, they look at me like I’m crazy.

It’s reached the point that when I’m introduced to people I tell them, “You may see me with my bangs up/down next time we meet and I’ve been told I look very different, so don’t be caught off guard!” 

So far it’s seemed to work a little better.

Then a few days back I curled my hair.  That didn’t help my problem much.  I don’t curl my hair often because it takes so long, and I’m not sure how soon I’ll do it again considering several people didn’t know who I was at first.  I may have received compliments, but I would rather be known.   

I’m not sure if I should be thrilled at my ability to change my looks, or unsettled.

My hair is causing a mini identity crisis.  Sheesh.   

The Importance of Scars

At some point in my life I will have a mid-life crisis.  At least that’s what I’ve heard.  It happens to everyone at some point.

Right now I have more of a “mid-quarter” crisis.  I’ve hit a funny spot in my college career where I’m always tired, less motivated than before, and ready to take a vacation.  Not to mention everyone seems to be asking, am I really doing what I’m supposed to be doing, and am I really meant to be here? 

There’s no doubt I still want to write, I’m just waiting to get all of my freshman classes out of the way so I can take something that teaches me what I need to learn.  Writing a blog is what keeps my creativity flowing—it’s the true practice I get.  At this point I’m doing a better job preparing myself than my classes are. 

(Disclaimer:  I promise I’m learning something.  Just not about what I’m most passionate about.) 

Lately I’ve been talking to various friends who are worried about their future.  And I am more than willing to hear them out.  If any of my friends need a good cry they can come to me, because I’ve been there many times before. 

“Tears are the safety valve of the heart when too much pressure is laid on it.”

~Albert Smith

There were three of us in my room last night, talking about our fears, hearing each other out, and allowing tears come every once in a while. 

But, being as distracted as I am, I often stray from the conversation at hand.  I asked one of my friends where she got a scar and before I knew it all of us were comparing scars and sharing stories.

You learn some crazy things about people when you talk about scars.  And we only covered the ones on the outside.  It really got me thinking about how many scars people must hold on the inside that I don’t even see, and I’ll never know about them unless they tell me.

And then I kept thinking.  Regardless of where we came from, we find common ground in the things that hurt most.  No matter how I feel about my classes, the weather, or the cafeteria food, the people here will influence me in more ways than I can currently imagine.     

Right now I have all my closest friends in one spot and, through learning more about them, I get the opportunity to learn more about myself.    

Like Kindergarten, Like College

When I was in kindergarten I talked to whomever, I ate lunch with whomever, and anyone that talked to me was my friend. I think that’s how it pretty much worked for everyone. No one had fashion expectations, no one had clicks, and everyone wanted to have fun.

Which means kindergarten was one of the easiest social experiences of my life.

I don’t remember learning much of anything…however, I was one of the few children in my class that didn’t attend preschool—somehow I managed to learn how to recite the alphabet just like everyone else.

School began to get more complicated when people started developing friend groups. People started making friends and “inviting people to their birthday party”, which was one of the biggest deals in the world, and it continues to be so for young children.

When you didn’t get invited, that was the signal to look elsewhere for a friend.

Then it was middle school and no one belonged, but everyone felt like they were part of a certain group and everyone was suddenly aware of the word popular. The words boyfriend and girlfriend also found their way into the common language.

Cooties were old school—everyone was going through the same awkward stage even though everyone tried to ignore it. I didn’t realize it was happening and now I when I go through old pictures I can point it out. It’s obvious. Looking back it's astounding how awkward everyone was.

I wish I had known everyone was as awkward and out of place as me. I would have been less preoccupied with what other people thought, and middle school would have been so much easier.

In high school everyone thought they were cool. I learned some of my hardest lessons about relationships in high school, but everything I learned allowed me to understand myself more.

The last few years of high school I was preoccupied with worrying about my future.

And now I’m here.

In a way I’m back in kindergarten. Although I’m already educated and I know how to read, making friends happens the same way it did 13 years ago. All I have to do is start up a conversation with someone, or sit at a table during lunch and introduce myself.

It’s like I’m 5 all over.

But now I understand how to appreciate life, I’ve learned from the mistakes I’ve made.

I’m going to make more, because without mistakes we don't learn.

Without learning we don’t grow and without growing, we will never reach the 1^st grade.