And then I blinked...and then it was December

Clearly I am a dedicated blogger. My final fall semester of college has somehow disappeared into thin air, and I'm really angry at myself for not documenting it. Then again, I don't have time to sleep, let alone blog. In fact, right now I should be preparing for a sales presentation, sales booklet, a strategy exam, a business writing exam, a social media proposal, a strategy proposal, and two enormous papers. But something about today just got me thinking about how quickly this semester has gone. And it has certainly had its ups and downs. Some of the best times I've had in my entire college career, and some of the worst. In summary, this semester I have:

-Managed to complete two internships and 12 credits (assuming I live to see next Thursday)
-Interviewed, interviewed, and then interviewed some more.
-Introduced Clemson to my best friend.
-Road tripped on the #ShockTheWorldTour.
-Made new friends, realized true friends, and learned to give forgiveness.
-Accepted a job offer in Charlotte, NC.
-Watched my school and team that I am so proud of win their first ACC title in 20 years.

And much, much more that I could think of right now if I had actually been persistent about blogging.

Over Christmas break, I vow to write down my favorite memories of the semester, along with pictures, so that 40 year old me can look back and think...that was the life.

I Lost August Somewhere...

But seriously. Where did August go? Today, it feels as though I've blinked and eighteen days have gone by since I've last written. It has been a whirlwind of a month.

I'm now four whole weeks into my internship, and I already feel settled and confident. I'm so glad now, more than ever, that I decided to take this job. It's giving me some really valuable experience for the future. Finally, I have reached the point where I have several of my own projects and don't need a supervisor standing over my shoulder. I'm even getting to write a lot, which is something I secretly love despite how much I've argued with past English teachers about how I can't write.

Since I've started working at DNA, I've also transformed into a full-fledged insomniac. Like right now. It's Friday night, I just worked for five days straight, and I'm sitting up at 11:25 writing a blog. I went out Monday (babysat drunkies), Tuesday (the universe stomped on my face and I got two hours of sleep), AND Wednesday night (babysat drunkies), and then went to recruitment retreat Thursday night. In other words, I have not slept. And for whatever reason, I am taking zero advantage of my weekend and I'm blogging.

I've had an interesting couple of weekends. Lots of bingo and karaoke, which makes me sound like a senior citizen, but those are the main highlights of summer in Clemson. I've remained relatively tame this summer, bringing a bit of "Mama TarTar" back from Italy with me. Last weekend I threw every ounce of tame (and sane) out the window when I let my suppressed girly emotions become...un-suppressed. Very publicly. Recent events, life choices, and confusions have made me realize a lot of things about myself and other people. It seems all I ever get to walk away with is some "life lesson" or realization about the type of people I don't want to surround myself with. But that's life. And when the universe stomps on my face like it did this past weekend, it will eventually lead to better things. It has to. That's what all the country songs say.

Plus, whenever I'm feeling down about life, Kirstie and I play a really fun game. We name every friend we know who is in a relationship, and we ask one another if we would want to date their boyfriends if given the chance. It goes like this.

Kirstie: "I don't feel sassy. Wahh."
Me: "Okay, take [insert a friend's ugly boyfriend here]. If you could date him right now would you?"
Kirstie: "NO!"
Me: "Exactly." 
or...
Me: "Wahh, boys are mean."
Kirstie: "Okay, take [insert a friend's unintelligent boyfriend here]. If you could date him right now would you?"
Me: "He doesn't know how to spell..."
Kirstie: "Exactly." 

A few rounds of that game and a pint of Ben and Jerry's and we're both good as new. We also pep talk one another about how we are smarter and more mature than all other humans and someday Kirstie will stumble upon a northern LAX bro (granola-free) and I will stumble upon a hot CEO of a multibillion $ internet start-up (puka-shell-free) and we will win the game of life. Even writing about us talking about it is making me feel great.

So, now is when I bid adieu to MY LAST SUMMER AS A KID and say hello to my senior year. Right now I'm in sorority la-la-land, which might be more exhausting and draining than my full-time job. My second to last semester of classes starts Wednesday, and I am extremely excited as any self-proclaimed nerd would be. Something about a new syllabus just makes me happy.

Workin' for the Weekend

Another entire week has come and gone and it's hard to believe it's August 1st!

My first week of work at DNA was great! I can tell I'm going to get a lot of really great experience that will (hopefully) make me a more marketable job candidate this year. As much as I'm enjoying it, I can't help but admit what a reality check it is to work 8:30-5, five days a week. Plus a thirty-five minute commute both ways. I question how my parents have been doing this for 20+ years. I think I might need to reevaluate my ultimate career goals. If someone could pay me to travel the world, that would be suitable.

I'm really, really missing Italy lately. Not only the pasta, architecture, cheap wine, and my roommates. Just the simplicity. The sound of the most beautiful language in the world...the smell of leather...the lack of any real responsibility. It's really made me realize I can't live the entirety of my life being a corporate slave to The Man. Maybe for the first 5 years, but after that, I have to figure out some occupation, company, university, something that lets me see more of the world.

I don't have any "haha-funny-college-stories" to share, since I've been so consumed with work lately. This weekend was really fun, though. I'm starting to get back into my old college-girl groove. Overtime is my new obsession. It's the only bar in Clemson that is open past midnight on Saturdays (yeehaw, Blue Laws!) but you need a membership to get in. Although the membership is only a one-time fee of $5, it is clearly way over my budget. And I enjoy making a game out of making friends who do have memberships to bring me in as one of their guests. It reminds me of hassling bouncers in Europe to spare my poor little American self the 20 euro cover charge.

Now, my night will consist of drinking wine (unfortunately from California...pish posh), watching The Bachelorette finale (TeamJP!), and finalizing my OrgSync Internship presentation to present to the Student Affairs Cabinet tomorrow morning (yikes!)

Ciao!

Joverals

I'm already a slacking blogger! In an attempt to remember every bit of my senior summer & year, here is an update:

I've finished up my job at the Gantt Center...well, sort of. My boss is applying to renew the internship program and has even agreed to let me work from home since she wants to keep me. Makes me hope that real live business people will love me as much as student affairs professionals seem to. I've also started my job at DNA! My first day was stressful...it was one of their major events and I helped take pictures, direct guests, and do anything else that was needed. I stood in heels without sitting once for SIX. STRAIGHT. HOURS. The first thing on my "to buy" list is now a pair of nice, comfy, Nine West heels. I wanted the Cole Haan + Nike ones, but I don't have that kinda $$. Someday..

This weekend, I participated in an epic annual event known as Redneck Beer Olympics. Me, Amy, Kirstie, and Michael were team "WWJDrink." We're all going to hell. I kept blessing myself. But we found really funny Southern Baptist shirts about Jesus. I also invested in a quality pair of joveralls from Salvation Army. Maybe I can find my Cole Haan heels there...? Anyway, our team gave up after the first round since we were so full/dizzy we couldn't bare moving onto the second round. So the rest of the day consisted of galavanting around Chimney Ridge in my joveralls and vintage cowgirl boots. If I have to move somewhere Northern or Western after college, I'm really going to miss the appropriateness of wearing joveralls and cowgirl boots in public.

Now, onto the saga of the broken fridge. A few days ago, Kirstie and I started to notice our food was going bad really fast. This led us to realize that our fridge was not cold. Everything spoiled. We had to take out three gigantic trash bags full of uneaten food and spoiled dairy. Much of which didn't even belong to us since it was all left over from our old roommate and my old sublet. We managed to salvage some salad dressing and parmigiano in a cooler with ice, but other than that we are starving and forced to go out and eat unhealthily. This is completely defeating the purpose of my workout plan, which I have been actually sticking to lately. So we are living as poor college students with a fridge that consists of salad dressing, cheese, and white wine. Delicious and nutritious.

The rest of my week will consist of my new Big Kid Job at DNA. Hopefully this weekend I'll do something adventurous worth reading about when I'm 40.

Ciao!

Searching for my lost shaker of salt

Monday night insomnia can often breed the finest of blog posts, so here's what I've been up to:

This weekend was the quintessential Clemson Summer Weekend. Tony threw himself a birthday party (narcissist) and kept with last year's extremely successful theme of Margaritaville. Since there are few things I love in life more than Jimmy Buffet songs and tequila, I was quite pleased. However, the combination of the daunting caloric value of said margaritas and an overly motivated sorority sister landed me at Fike around 1:00 p.m. on Saturday. I generally only grace that state-of-the-art recreation center with my presence when I'm shaking my thang at Zumba. There is no Zumba on Saturday afternoons. Emily. Made. Me. Run. RUN. If you know me, you know there is nothing okay with that. I have always been physically incapable of such an activity. This is why I quit all sports and used to make my only B's in gym class. Being a red-headed freckly kid often goes hand-in-hand with allergies and severe exercise-induced asthma. Therefore, I restrict all forms of exercise to dance. While Zumba has been making me feel great lately, we ate Todaro's on Friday night and were about to drink hundreds of margarita calories. I was feeling chipper so I let Emily get all personal trainer on me and kick my butt. I did 2.5 miles on the treadmill (1.5 of which I ran...1 of which I ran without stopping!) This sounds like a small feat, but I think that is the first time in my life I've ever ran an entire mile without stopping to walk or have an asthma attack. I feel like a contestant on Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition. I literally wanted to die. But I just kept running. I don't know what came over me. After running Emily taught me how to use all of the different weight machines. It is now Tuesday at 12:03 a.m. and I am still incredibly sore. We then did crunches, planks, wall-sits, all things miserable. Just when I thought I could finally stretch, she made me get back on the treadmill to "cooldown" for 2 laps. HOW IS A TREADMILL A COOLDOWN? Surprisingly, it was not as bad as I anticipated it to be. I've even considered going there after work tomorrow if I get out early enough to try it all on my own. Buh-bye PastaPudge.

Anyway, Margaritaville 2 was extremely successful. I brought a giant container of margaritas in the form of a water cooler that you see gatorade in at a youth soccer game. Gettin' those electrolytes. We sang Jimmy Buffet and danced on chairs and had a grand old time. Tony's car even got lovingly decorated for his 21st:

The next day Kirstie and I spent the entirety of the morning, afternoon, and evening watching movies on TBS. Legally Blonde, Mean Girls...the classics.

Today was such a Mondayish Monday. I worked from 9-4:30 which is something I almost never do since I finish my work so quickly, but I was bombarded today. I kind of liked it though. I'm trying to get in the 9-5 mindset for my new job in Greenville. I also got to attend a super-important Student Affairs meeting about the new Student homepage Clemson is building. I was the only student there so I got to give a lot of input and also incorporate my work with OrgSync into it. I broke the news to my boss that I will be working at DNA Creative Communications in Greenville 3 days a week this fall. I figured she would automatically think that was too many hours for me to continue working with her, but she still wants me to stay on board. It would be 160 hours over the course of the fall semester, and I would only have Tuesdays and Thursdays to complete those hours. Not to mention...I am a student and class is somewhat of a requirement for me. But if she can get approval for me to work from home and be flexible about my hours, I would be so happy to have two internships. I really love my job now, and the thought of passing on all of my OrgSync work to someone new is kind of upsetting. I actually feel like I've done something new that has made an impact on new students. I'm also so excited to start my new internship at DNA. Amy has worked there since last January, and she absolutely loves it. I'm excited to gain some real world experience outside of Clemson. I'm not so excited about driving to Greenville Monday, Wednesday, Friday, but it will be worth it for the experience. Hopefully Sugarplum Saturn can keep trucking along for the next year of my life.

I'm feeling back to my normal self. I'm starting to accept the fact that I'm in America and although I'm trying to add some of that Italian flair into my attitude, I do have responsibilities. And I have worked really hard to get where I am. So even though I will complain all semester about working until 5 on Fridays while my friends are at the pool, I know it's going to pay off. It has to.

Southern Things 'n OVERPRICED Senior Rings?

How appropriate that I titled this blog "Southern Things 'n Senior Rings." I just got home from my interview / meet-and-greet at DNA Creative Communications in downtown Greenville. It is such a cute office and awesome company filled with people I would love to work with. I was feel all high and mighty about having a real job 3 days a week next fall (and not to mention making more money than I ever have in a semester) when I came home and decided it was time to order my class ring. I checked my credit card accounts to see how I could pay for this. In my delusional mind this was going to run me $100-$200. I even printed the order form and was ready to march on down to the University Bookstore to get sized. Then I saw it. In black and white. I did a quadruple-take of the numbers. That says $144 not $441 right? Am I dyslexic? Did I accidentally print the order form for one month's rent in a luxury student condo or a flat screen TV? Nope. I printed the order form for a class ring. The cheapest of which is going to run me (and my me I mean my parents, grandmother, or some relative in a far away land who feels bad for me) FOUR-HUNDRED AND FORTY-ONE DOLLARS. I just galavanted around for 4 months with a 1.4 exchange rate and I am currently struggling to feed myself. Excuse me while I go sell both of my arms and my high school graduation pearls.

Yet, I love Clemmy more than feeding myself. And I love the thought of getting my ring in time to go to the ring ceremony and take a picture with Big Bad President Barker himself. I will simply die a slow un-school-spirited death if I miss this opportunity. I'll have this ring for the rest of my life. And until I meet my hot cowboy husband, it's going to be the #1 ring in my life.

You better be worth it, Mr. Senior Ring.

The House That Built Me

Last night I sat on the comfy brown couches of Crawford Falls 222 and watched a heaping dose of trashy reality TV. This is a normal evening for me these days. My bank account does not permit a lot of social drinking (unless of course, I'm feeling on my game and can find boys to buy them for me). My bank account does not permit much eating, either. I just finished my last jar of peanut butter and last two slices of bread today. Now what? But I'm also the idiot who bought a really cute $20 shirt at Target last week to wear to my interview tomorrow. Perhaps this lack of ca$h will help me lose more of my ItalyPastaPudge. I never thought I would be living a life of poverty in a luxury student condo. But I get paid two weeks from today! And then it's time to shop and eat and drink like a queen. 

I just got incredibly off-track. Back to the trashy reality TV I was watching. There's a new series on Lifetime called Dance Moms. Seeing as my mother and best friend's mother used to be the self-proclaimed Queen Bee's of the Dance Expression Dance Moms, this was a must-watch. And while hilarity ensued throughout the show with Mom quotes like "If Vivi tells me she wants to play softball, I'll probably slit my wrists," and "Your legs are as straight as Elton John," I still couldn't help but be disgusted by premise of it. Not the show, the studio. The psychotic woman who runs it and the psychotic mothers who put their daughters through it. 

It got me thinking about how much my dance experience shaped me as a person. I tried to go to sleep, but found myself watching old dance DVDs until 2 o'clock in the morning, even though I had an interview at 8:15 a.m. in Greenville this morning. But I didn't feel tired when I woke up, I felt refreshed. I felt like I finally reminded myself of what I forget far too often. That I owe a tremendous part of who I am to my dance teachers and sisters. 

Dance Expression is the most incredible place a child can grow up. I know everyone wants to believe that their experiences are far more unique than the rest, but I know there isn't a chance in the world that any studio can do what Dance Expression does. It is based off a foundation of love, support, self-esteem, discipline, confidence, togetherness, and joy. There are no auditions. There are no required tricks you need to be capable of or size costume you need to fit into. To you, this might sound like some kind of crazy, unorganized circus of dancers. But somehow, despite the incredible diversity present in both personality and talent, it works. Sure, our dances were never sprinkled with back flips or twenty people doing fuetes in unison. And sometimes we came home from competitions without any top-tier awards. But sometimes we did. And sometimes we came out on top of studios who did have twenty dancers doing fuetes in unison. And that's because judges recognized something different in us...love. We actually loved what we were dancing about and who we were dancing with. Every dance had a story to it. It was embedded into our brains at a young age that we did not go to competitions to compete, we went because they gave us more opportunities to share our joy on stage. It was incredible to watch those other companies full of competitive rhinestoned robots cry hysterically when they won 1st place (or when they didn't). We were artists.We were always different. And we liked it that way. 

It's hard to recognize a uniqueness like this when you're young. Dance Expression was all I had ever known. While many of my closest friends came from other dance studios where the teachers treated them badly or the Moms were catty, I didn't know a world existed outside of those purple walls. It wasn't until after I graduated that I realized all of this. After I stood on stage, got my flowers from Miss Lisa, gave a tearful and incomprehensible speech, and hugged and hugged my sisters repeatedly. That's when I realized how much of myself I owed to that studio. That's when I realized why my Mom paid for it for 15 years, even if it meant we never had new cars or an addition put on our house. I grew up there. And even though I would spend hours each week suffering through middle school with frizzy hair braces, I went home every night to a place that told me I was important. And then I spent four years of high school surrounded by drug addicts and townies, but I didn't even notice. Because after school I went home to a place that told me I could be anything I wanted. I was blissfully oblivious to the world around me. 

And that's how I've found myself here. On a internship-applying, company-researching, rest-of-my-life-planning frenzy 800 miles from New Jersey. And even though Clemson is my home now, I still think of that studio every time I hear "The House That Built Me." Had Miss Lisa not disciplined me about my turnout, I might not have the self-discipline to work so hard in college. If no one had joked about my in-proportionately sized hips, I might not have the easy nature of laughing at myself. If I had never been Annie, I might not be busting out incredible renditions of "I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here" when I'm at parties...perhaps I could do without that last one. 

It's an incredible thing to have. Especially for someone like me, who up and left New Jersey with no intentions of ever going back. Most of my high school friends have definitely forgotten about me. I've made a new life for myself. But despite all of that, I could still fly home, walk into that dance studio, and have open arms and a group of future-bridesmaids waiting for me. 

Here It Is...

The "Oh My God I'm A Senior And It's Almost Time To Grow Up So I Should Write About It But Sorry It Won't Be As Entertaining As My Italy Blog" blog.

But I figured, if so many people faithfully followed my 4 month mad-dash through Europe, why not keep writing? I love that I have my Frolicking Through Europe blog to look back on. It might be just as fun to read about my Senior year of college someday when I'm forty.

I'm living in Clemson this summer. Clemson is arguably my favorite place in the world. It's no Italy, but it's the first place I've ever truly felt like myself. I can't lie though, I've been having trouble settling back into my old life. I got all of the weirdness of driving out of my system when I drove 14 hours down here by myself in May, but other things just don't seem right. Still. On July 13th. The pristine newness of my apartment building. The screens on my windows. The price of EOOV, fresh mozzarella, and WINE. The sound of the English language. The persistent American pressure to get an internship, get straight A's, get a good job, get married, and play my entire life by the rules.

I don't want to play by the rules anymore. When I was in Italy, I realized that's all I've ever known how to do. I've done everything just as every perfect child is supposed to, and 100% of that pressure to be perfect came from me. My parents are the opposite of strict and overbearing. It's all me. Italy made me realize I need to stop that nonsense. Life is about living, not rule setting. And while I'm still starting to ease back into my old ways, I know it's only temporary. I have two interviews this week for fall internships. And although I've already had to completely erase one job position from my resume because it no longer fit, I still deem this incredibly necessary to my future success. But once I complete that internship, get those straight A's, and have that diploma in my hands, I'm done playing by the rules.

I've made a promise to myself that I will apply for any job that interests me. The more traveling it involves, the better. If it's in California, so be it. I will do my best to not become a bleach blonde or organic granola girl. If it's in Chicago, I'll buy a coat. If it's in Europe, I'll jump for joy. If it's in Texas, I'll fall in love with a cowboy. If it's in Boston, I'll become a Bruins fan. If it's in New Jersey...well never mind that idea.

The point is, before Italy I was dead set on my post-grad plans. Charlotte or Atlanta. Perfect 2 hour driving distance so I can come back for every home football game. And while I love and appreciate this college town more than words can express, I know now that there is a world out there. Clemson will always be here for me to come home to. While I'm young, I need to set myself free.

Now, knowing that my boundaries are practically nonexistent, I intend to make this the greatest year of my college experience so far. And while it may be hard to top the innocence of freshman year, establishment of sophomore year, and worldliness of junior year, I'm confident it will outshine them all. And I don't want to forget a single second of it. So here, one month away from the start to this milestone of a year, I will being writing. If not for others to enjoy, then at least for myself. So that when I'm forty I can remember what it's like to be a college kid on the brink of the rest of her life.

I hope you like it. And if you've never been to Clemson before, you're about to learn a whole lot about Southern Things 'n Senior Rings. 

:)