Take cover(s)!

You can be that person battling the rain with a little foldable umbrella in one hand and two bags of groceries in the other, praying your backpack is still waterproof, or you can be the prepared mom-person who wears a raincoat, stuffs all the non-squishable groceries in her backpack, and then covers the backpack with a backpack rain cover.

You can be that person who’s like, “Yeah fruits can get wet, they’re in grocery bags, they’ll dry off.” Or you can be that person who transfers everything into one bag and uses the second to cover the groceries, lest the avocados and milk get drenched (but you’re actually protecting the strawberries and Pillsbury Easter cookies, let’s be real.)

What did I learn today? I’d rather be the wallflower dork with the bright backpack cover than the drowned rat with wet notes because my backpack, I discovered recently, is no longer waterproof. Particularly on the middle section where my water bottle goes. You know, because keeping water bottles dry is the ultimate goal.

I mean, it doesn’t look that embarrassing, right?

“There and back again”: Not an epic tale by a hobbit

When I went home for Thanksgiving weekend this past weekend, I was a statistic for the first time ever. You know what I mean: I was part of the group of students to whom the priest said “Welcome home!” in his opening greetings to mass, I was the person the church friends crowded to see how school was going, because they no longer had an opportunity to each week, I could even use the guilt card to see my friends at late hours of the night to provide optimal time with family during the day, and “catching up” (or as some smarty-pant friends of mine would term “ketchup”) time with friends at night. Or so I thought. I have to admit, before Thanksgiving weekend, I was optimistic about my time management, but nevertheless, there was a little bit of visiting with friends still. So anyways, you know that statistic (and by statistic I am completely just guessing that a statistic exists somewhere)? The one where hundreds of thousands of students flock to their hometowns to celebrate holidays and become the special kids to whom everyone pays their utmost attention during those short two or three days? Yes, well, I was one of them, and boy, did it feel weird at first. But I guess it’s nice to feel special. *understatement*

Going home and coming back to Queenstown was an interesting experience. You have to do all these backwards things, like pack to go home, since, as a girl in love with clothes, almost all of my wearable clothes moved with me. You have loose ends to tie up, or time-consuming computer jobs to finish at home since if you’re essentially home tech support for your parents, like me. And yet every moment you spend away from your family, whether it’s the time downloading new music, or transferring all your sunset pictures, or looking down at your phone to make plans with your friends while with your family, there is an Eeyore-sized-raincloud of guilt hanging over you. It takes a lot of time, for me at least, to realize that even if there is no such thing as too much time with parents when you’re a visiting student, they still want you to visit with your friends from elementary and high school. And they’re okay with that. 

Being home is the most comfortable thing in the world. I finally get what people mean. Being back in my apartment is also comfortable. But it’s not home. Is it cliché to say it does feel like a home away from home? That really is its function, though. But now I have this strange distinction in my head. I made a home for myself here. I got two fish that both have lasted 48 hours so far. I have plants to water. I have carpets to vacuum, and laundry to do (in a few weeks… Obviously, I came back with a freshly laundered closet, courtesy of my mother’s hard work). Does a part of me actually enjoy taking care of myself and making a home for myself? At what point is it “okay” to start to grow up and be a responsible adult, without an overwhelming sense of guilt and loss of childhood ignorance? Maybe it’s time to read Catcher in the Rye again.

Whatever it is, I officially have less than ten months to figure it out.

Finding your Big-Girl Pants: Part 1½

We’re now two weeks into classes and three weeks since Orientation started. Incase my online absence is suspiciously pointing towards two weeks of socializing and making new friends, need I remind the world of my social skills? Silly, world. Since my last post, my very optimistic sounding post, I have come face-to-face with more big-girl things. And since I like lists, here we go:

1. Leaky tap. Fill out a work order form for the apartment superintendent and hope that it gets fixed while panicking at the idea that you have just given someone permission to enter your apartment at some point, even when you are not home. *Hides laundry loonies*
2. Orange Juice. Since the local farmer’s market has been stocked with a wonderful surplus of choice in vegetables, fruit, and baked goods, I have somehow managed to avoid stepping foot in a grocery store for three weeks. The market does not, however, have orange juice. The one substance I require to function the way plants need carbon dioxide. Or humans and oxygen. You know. So I put on my big-girl pants and rode the bus to the shopping centre where I happily strolled through Loblaws, really buttoning up those big-girl pants when I had to ask for a rain check on the out-of-stock-on-sale-orange-juice. That’s what happens when you go to the grocery store after noon, people. Lesson: Wake up and get your groceries early. 
3. Laundry. I may have ironed my shirt in my last blog post, but I never actually did the whole washing machine/dryer routine. When you leave laundry for 3 weeks, and try to fit the whole dark load into one load, things do not get washed properly. I mean, of course I knew enough to separate darks and lights, and of course I did not leave a red sock in my white a-la-Rachel-Green, but I thought water in washing machines just penetrates all the clothing and soaks everything. Well, if you have three weeks of clothing, and a small washer in the laundry room of your apartment, it doesn’t. So do not try to stuff the washing machine. Also, invest in those Tide tablet things so that you don’t have to measure laundry detergent. Life gets better with those laundry tablet things.
4. Learn how to small-talk. Okay, so I’m expecting there will be another post on this at some point this year. This past week, I attended a faculty wine and cheese event, and had to endure the dreaded small talk with colleagues aka classmates, and professors aka those who assign you a grade that defines your academic progression. What did I expect? Painful, awkward, staring at the ceiling.
   What did I encounter? Slightly less painful, slightly less awkward, and I couldn’t tell you what the ceiling looked like. I received some great advice on what to wear for “business casual” before attending: “If you would TA in it, you can wear it.” Since it was a wine and cheese, and I enjoy wine but cannot tolerate alcohol well, I was that person who casually sipped and warmed my chilled white wine in my hands, which is a nice way of saying I pretended to drink it, subtly made half of my glass magically disappear, filled the half with water, and sipped my diluted now-warm chardonnay with effortless (what a lie) grace.
   What’s the point of diluting the wine? Why didn’t I just drink a non-alcoholic drink?
   There is no difference; I call it personal preference. There is absolutely no problem or judgment I expected for preferring a non-alcoholic drink. I honestly do enjoy wine, so I had no problem asking for white wine. I like the feel of wine glasses because in that superficial way, I feel more comfortable and classy with a wine glass. It all has to do with holding the wine glass itself, and just having a drink (be it alcoholic or non-alcoholic) in general so your hands have something to do, and nothing to do with what’s in the glass. If you feel confident you will be more confident. Fact. (Not proven, but you know.)
   Let’s put it this way. I once attended an alumni talk from a very successful graduate who talked about networking and socializing. Her #1 piece of advice for events? Get a drink (again, any drink, water, wine, etc.) and hold it. It makes you 90% (I made that number up) less awkward than you would be without a drink. It gives you an excuse to politely leave a conversation and “refill” or join another conversation along the way to maximize you networking. And it keeps you hydrated, since you know, socializing requires talking, which requires hydration. And I also made that last point up based on my recent experiences.

So, all that rambling basically meant: I had to take care of maintaining my apartment, I had to go to a real grocery store and do my own laundry, which takes a lot more time when you let it accumulate. I had to socialize in a professional setting and put to use the lesson I learned about professional socializing, that is, get a drink and (it doesn’t matter if it’s alcoholic or non-alcoholic), and mingle. All of which is a lot easier said than done. Which are things I am still working on. But I tried, and that’s why this post is a ½ step in the “Big-Girl Pants.” Like half a step when you’re walking. Like the running man. No, nevermind, not the running man. Just mid step.