It hit me today

My high school’s prom was Friday night. As I scroll through instagram post after instagram post, admiring all of my friends’ magnificent flowing gowns and pinned back hair, I came to the realization that that will never be me again. My days of prom, homecoming, and turnabout dress shopping are long over. Now, I shop for dresses for weddings, formals, etc. I realized today that I am no longer a student of my high school, I am in college and my high school days are long gone.

People say you never know when it will hit you. The fact that you’ll probably never see these people again. That graduation night is the last night you will all be together. People say it doesn’t hit you on graduation night. You may cry, but you’re only crying because your mom and grandma are crying. It might hit you when you say goodbye to your best friends. After spending countless hours with them over summer, trying to squeeze every last memory you possibly can in with them until you part ways for 4 months. It might hit you when you pack up your entire life into suitcases, boxes, backpacks. When your room looks foreign to you because of how barren it is. It might even hit you when your parents leave you, alone, in your dorm. When you’re left alone with a roommate that you’ve only spoken to via Facebook chat exchanging social medias and what each of you will bring.

For me, it happened in bursts. Saying goodbye to my friends, I cried. I knew we would be different people when I saw them next. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. It hit me when my sister had her first day of school and I was still in bed, because I didn’t leave for another week. It hit me, the night before I left. After leaving a friend’s house I drove around my town, driving up and down every street, passing my high school countless times, absorbing every last image of that town I had come to love. I cried. I drove around, listened to old songs and cried. I wasn’t ready and at the same time I was. I wasn’t ready to move on, but I knew that I had to. Saying goodbye to my family, I cried. I wouldn’t see them until family weekend, and I knew I would be different by that time. They weren’t ready for that. It hit me when I came home for winter break, and my room wasn’t my room. It was a bed and a desk where I would spend weeks at a time. But it wasn’t mine anymore. It was mine for so long, but not anymore. I cried my first night home. How no matter how long I lived in that house, how I knew every nook and cranny of that 3 story building, it wasn’t my house anymore. It was a place to vacation, before heading back to my new home- San Diego. My family wasn’t ready for the day that I called San Diego home. I see the hurt expression on my mom’s face every time I say, “I can’t believe I go home in ____ days.” I don’t mean to offend anyone, but it has become my home.

What no one told me is that it would hit me, a year later, scrolling through instagram and checking snapchat stories. No one told me I would miss that school. That school I dreaded going to every morning, would be a place I longed to visit one last time. I could tell you every hallway, every room number, every teacher, all of my friend’s locker numbers, the bell schedule every day of the week. No one told me I would miss it. No one told me that passing by it every break, I would lose a little piece of my high school self.

I hated high school but I loved it all the same. I hated 8am calculus but I loved the teachers and all the students. I hated the smell of the lunchroom but I loved that everyone gathered together for a time of relaxation. What no one told me is that despite how many events I went to, I wished I could eat just one more lunchroom cookie, attend just one more Shenanigans show,  or basketball game.

Personally, I think I did high school pretty well. I played 4 different sports and participated in at least one of those every year. I was on yearbook: editor in chief, business editor, and design editor. I was part of my student government. Junior class president for a year, and executive board treasurer the next. I took AP classes and studied hard, trying to make good grades, and I had a pretty great group of friends.

Some days I wish  I could do high school all over again. Be more outgoing, join different and more clubs, try out for a sport I never played my freshman year, and just redo high school knowing everything I know now.

But that’s not what high school is. High school is supposed to be big and scary. Walking into the new and inviting school painted blue and white with faces cheering and clapping for you is what it’s all about. Walking in with your best friends and out with your best friends is what high school is. Making mistakes, growing up, learning, crying, enjoying the new and foreign experiences. That’s what I did in high school.

Yes, I’ll never have the chance to go to my senior year homecoming that I missed, and I’ll never be able to go to another prom, but I did high school how you’re supposed to. I lived, I learned, and most importantly I grew into the woman I am today. I’ll never step foot into that school again as a student, but because of that school, I have blossomed into the brilliant woman that I am today.
Until next time.

Alicia

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If my House could talk

Recently, I’ve been thinking what my dog would say if she could talk.What she would say to me, my mom, my bird, etc. Mainly because I miss her and was wondering if she misses me too. Yet, I came to realize my dog, while extremely cute, is an idiot and would probably just ask for more food. My house, however, I feel like its story would be one worth listening.

If my house could talk, it would tell me the story of my mom and I visiting it in 2004, and how much I hated it. It didn’t have the purple tree that I wanted so dearly. It would tell you that although it wasn’t our first choice because of the butterfly wallpaper in the bathroom, flower wallpaper in the kitchen, and blue carpet, it had everything we needed so we bought it.

It would tell you of the days we spent painting. My aunt, mom, sister and I took on multiple rooms of that house. Painting bedroom walls purple and yellow, and my mom tidying up the house before move in. It would tell you of my neighbors coming to the door to greet us and the song they sang to us. While neither of us can remember the words to the song, the gesture will be long remembered.

It would tell you of the day we moved in. Its walls hadn’t heard a child laugh in ages and the soft laughter of my two-year-old sister as she navigated the house made it feel young again. As I marched through the house with a sense of urgency, guiding everyone carrying boxes of toys, clothes, and furniture to where they need to go. They adorn sloppily scribbled phrases of “kitchen items” and “Alicia’s toys” written by me in sharpie. After we had put boxes in their places, made beds, and put pillows on couches, we made our way outside, used our fridge and stove for the first time and the house was finally becoming ours.

It would tell you of how I tore off that ugly butterfly wallpaper and blamed it all on my sister. It would be our little secret. It would tell you how black paint ended up all over my sister’s carpet and I actually took the blame for that one.

It would tell you the story of the day we got my dog. As my sister had gotten a bit older she had stopped screaming and crying over everything. Now we had a puppy. A crazy dog who would instead of scream, would bark at every fallen leaf and squirrel she saw. How she was afraid of ceiling fans and would chew on the door stops that we didn’t notice until there was a hole in the wall.

It would tell you of all of the friends I gained and lost in that house. Some friends would come and go but others were over every day for years and then they would be gone. It would be able to tell you of every Hannah Montana or Say Yes to the Dress marathon, to sleepovers and late night walks to the kitchen for chocolate covered pretzels.

It would tell you all of the bad things. From the hour-long fights and screaming matches that happened far too often. It would tell you of the times I snuck out of my house or got back past curfew. It would tell you of the night my mom walked out and was gone for the week. It would tell you about every tear my pillow came to know.

But most importantly it would tell you that within those 4 brick walls, a family was built, tested, and made it out alive. And if that’s not something to be proud of, I don’t know what is.

Until Thursday

Alicia

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To my ex-best friend (The Queen),

Each time I see people sharing links with this title on facebook, I immediately think of you. I click on the link quickly, trying to see if their relationship was anything like ours. If their ending was anything like ours. It never is. Upon reading at least ten of them not one of them is relatable to how we stopped being friends. I like to think it’s because our friendship was unlike any other, so if it had to end, it would unlike any other as well.

Where does one even begin? At one point in my life, you were there for everything. From my bad days, my good days, and everything in between. You stuck by me through my awkward days and how you did that I have no idea and truly can’t thank you enough.

I had never had a friend like you until I met you and I don’t think I’ll ever have someone to compare to you after the years of friendship that we had. For years, I told you everything. I told you every minuscule detail about my life. From each boy I was in love with  that week, to what so-and-so said about me. Everything. That’s what best friends do; they tell each other everything, the good and the bad. From how I aced my test or that it didn’t look like you had brushed your hair this month. And that’s just what we did.

We had our weddings planned out. We’d be each other’s maid of honors. Not telling our sister yet of course 😉 We spent almost every waking second together. You’d picked bridesmaids dresses to ensure that they were a color I would look good in. We had our lives planned out together. After graduating from college we were moving to Hoboken in a small apartment waiting to find true love and high paying jobs.

I will never forget the day I met you in 6th grade in Science class.  You know I’m not much for believing in fate, but we were both in the process of losing best friends. I’d like to think we entered each other’s lives to lessen this burden and to take on the best friend title. I will never forget how you came to my house in 7th grade, and we took photo booth pictures together with my sister. Or in eighth grade when you came over on the snow day and we built such a pathetic snowman, but it was great because I made it with my best friend. I will never forget our summer bucket list blog and how we tried cramming the last 30 items on the list into 3 days. I will cherish those memories forever.

I want to thank you. I want to thank you for being my rock and my best friend. I want to thank you for always believing in me and helping me achieve my goals, one baseball pun at a time. I want to thank you for being the best friend I have ever had, and probably ever will. You have given all of my friends, present and future, such high expectations to meet, even if they don’t know it yet.

I want to thank you for opening up your home and for letting me befriend your entire family, even if I was always afraid of your dad. When I saw your dog died on facebook, I cried. Calby was such a sweetie, and while he was no Gracie, he was still a cute pup. When I saw your mom got diagnosed with cancer, I cried and I called my mom. I knew I had to text you. I knew it wouldn’t matter to you that I did, but she was my second mom for so many years, and I wanted to make sure you were both okay. I just want to thank you for impacting such a stressful and amazing time of my life, for the good and for the bad.

I also want to say that I’m sorry. I know we’ll never be friends again and I’m not saying that’s what I want. We’re different people than we were junior year.

I’m sorry we ended the way we did. Everyone says that friendships end because they drifted apart or they were too different. We weren’t different or drifting apart. We were basically the same person (other than the fact that I wore sweatpants every day and you wore dresses) and we were spending even more time together than usual.  We starting hating each other, slowly and then all at once, the tension in every room we were in could be cut with a knife. We had more bad days than good days and I couldn’t take it. But I couldn’t tell you that. I hate discussing feelings (something I’ve improved upon since we stopped talking). We were both too afraid of feelings and confrontation that we avoided each other until our only way of communication was through letters and our friends acting as carrier pigeons.

Now remember, I have nothing against you, and I want to say that the time being your best friend were some of the best years of my life. I wish you nothing but the best in life, whether I’m in it to some extent or not is fine by me. I just wanted to for once in my life being open with my feelings (like you always told me to be) even if it is 2 years late.

Much love and summer fun
(Princess) Alicia (Jane Catherine) Heninger
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P.S. the turtle I named after you died. Thought you should know

20 tips for freshmen attending San Diego State University next year

Hi everyone, my best friend from home came to San Diego this weekend to visit a few colleges before the deadline to decide on a college for the next 4 years, May 1st. She still hasn’t decided and is between Pepperdine University in Malibu and the University of Indianapolis. Obviously I hope she picks Pepperdine so she’ll be closer to me but obviously I hope she chooses the place that is best for her. So, for those of you people who know that you’ll be attending SDSU in the fall, here are some tips for all of you to survive, Hope they help. 🙂

  1. Even though San Diego is the stereotypical Sunny and 75 all the time, pack sweaters and bring an umbrella. YOU WILL NEED THEM BOTH.
  2.  While some people think that Greek Life is a huge deal at State, don’t feel pressured into rushing. There are so many great people who don’t rush and are just fine. Greek life isn’t for everyone.
  3. Just because Greek life isn’t for everyone, it doesn’t make it ok to put it down. They did nothing to you and making people feel bad about something they enjoy is rude.
  4. Be social and put yourself out there, I didn’t my first semester and I missed out on so many friendship opportunities
  5. That being said, don’t worry if you haven’t found ‘your group’ after the first month… or even the first semester.
  6. This is going to sound super cliche, but get involved. That’s the only way you will meet people with your interests. I’m good friends with people on my floor but my closest friends came from getting involved.
  7. Don’t forget about your friends back home. They know you better than anyone you meet at school. And they’ll be there when you have to rant about your new friends.
  8. While going home is great every once in a while, don’t go home every weekend. You miss a lot.
  9. Don’t be afraid to go to professor’s office hours. You will need letters of recommendation at some point, and professors are more likely to write better letters (instead of a cookie cutter version) on students they know.
  10. GO TO CLASS. It doesn’t matter if professors say class isn’t mandatory/don’t take attendance, or whether they post all of their lecture slides on Blackboard. If you want an A in the class, you have to go. Missing one or two classes a semester won’t kill you but don’t turn into the kid who just shows up for exams.
  11. The Turtle pond is one of the best places on campus. You can look at all of the turtles and fish or you can just sit on the grass to relax or study Bonus! If you get sunburnt easily like me, there is all kinds of shade for you
  12. Don’t feel restricted to campus. Go out and explore. Whether you go to Sunset Cliffs or just to Normal Heights, take in all San Diego has to offer.
  13. Go to Sporting events. Whether it’s a basketball or swim meet. Every Aztec has so much spirit and we support all of our sports teams.
  14. Do not bring a coffee maker to the dorms. They are not allowed and you will get in trouble if you are caught with one. Also, Starbucks (3 campus locations) and BCB (5 campus locations) are on the meal plan.
  15. Utilize the Storm Hall terrace. It’s my favorite spot on campus to get homework done and the view of the sunset there is always impeccable.
  16. Go to the Farmer’s Market on Thursdays. It’s a nice change from dorm food, and even though it’s not on the meal plan, it’s completely worth it. There is food that ranges from Western Africa to gluten free desserts… Something to satisfy everyone’s taste buds.
  17. Don’t wait until 9:30 to go to the market to spend your meal plan money. You will wait for a really long time (I waited once for half an hour) and if the line is long you won’t be let inside. So, here is when your umbrellas and sweaters come in handy.
  18. Cuic isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s good the first few weeks, but you will get sick of it
  19. Speaking of Cuic, when it comes to meal plans, Flex 7 is the way to go. On Meals Plus you will have so many Cuic swipes at the end of the semester you will end up wasting your parents money and bringing your entire floor to dinner there.
  20. Remember, when Hepner hall looks really good because of the angle of the Sun, snap that picture. No one will judge you. We all do it. Who doesn’t want to brag to all of their Instagram followers that they go to the prettiest school in the country?
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Hope these tips helped you, and for those of you still deciding on a college, good luck and stay true to your hearts (and wallets)

Talk to you Thursday

Alicia

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Rainy Days

Rainy days in California are rare, and almost nonexistent.However, upon checking the forecast for the upcoming week and seeing the raindrops dance across my screen, I can’t help but smile as my roommate grimaces at the thought.

The days leading up to the what Californians may call ‘gloomy’ day, are days of anticipation for me. It’s like the week before going home before a break or before a holiday.

Coming from  a place where rain was not necessarily an everyday occurrence, but sure occurred more than most would like, to a place where rain has fallen from the sky about fie times in the past eight months, you cannot help but miss rain: the scent, the air before and after it rains, the calming noise it makes as it hits windows, trees, the glow it gives everything it graces.

Rain reminds me of home. At least once a week, winter spring summer or fall, rain washes over our city. With rain brings a new beginning. It washes away the snow of winter, brings flowers to life in spring, washes away chalk drawings of summer, and pushes the crunchy fall leaves down the road.

My midwest self had become so accustomed to the rain that the absence of it saddens me. Never did I think a day would come that I missed rain. But waking up to the pitter patter of raindrops on my ajar window and the cool breeze entering through my window,gives me a sensation that I can’t quite describe.

As the rain hits my mesh covered window, and the occasional drop pecking my face, I hum in admiration. Rain is different here. As sunny and 75 days are rare in Chicago, rainy days in California are just as rare. I admire the both of them equally. While Californians proclaim their hatred of rain, with the knowledge of drought in the back of their minds, they can;t help but smile at the necessity of rain and the thirst of the earth being quenched. Even if this just happens once a month.

Everyone says that rain makes them sad. How can you be sad when the earth is being given the beautiful gift of water to make the plants grow bigger, the snails emerge from they long hibernation, and the hope that a rainbow could peak out behind the clouds after it has rained all day?

I’m not sure how rain saddens people, but I am sure of one thing. Rain doesn’t sadden me. Thunder on the other hand…

Until Thursday
Alicia

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Appreciating Home

Many apologies for the lack of posts the last week. I had planned on blogging at home, but I was too busy seeing my friends, family, trying not to die ( curse my sister for infecting me with sickness). I was thinking that yeah, i did have free time to blog, times when I was watching Fixer Upper or Finding Carter on TV and not doing anything necessarily productive. However, due to the fact that I attend college 2064 miles from home, I need to appreciate the time I have at home and not waste it away on things I can be doing anywhere.

I didn’t notice this so much over winter break, since I was home for a little over a month. But Spring break flew by. I had so little time to see everyone, do everything, and still manage to catch up on all of the sleep I had been lacking.

10 days. 10 days to do so many things. From celebrating Easter, to dog-sitting, to seeing all of my high school friends, community college friends, and friends with coinciding spring breaks, to a wedding, and seeing my city and all of the new tourist garbage I could take in n such a short time. Not to mention, catch up on all of my recorded TV shows, inhale as many fruits as I could, and try to beat the playstation Spyro game. Do all of that in 10 days? And still blog? No.

Coming home for Spring break has made me cherish all that is home. It makes me cherish every moment I spend with my sister, dog, friend, family member. I think that’s what  love most about going to school so far from home. Before going off to school, I never had a good relationship with my family. My dog was my favorite family member. She still is, but I get along so much better with my family now. It’s a nice feeling, being at peace with my family. We don’t fight as much anymore. We both know that I’m only home for 4 months of the year and we don’t want to waste that time arguing.

I cherish my friends. I know that one day we don’t all live in Chicago suburbs or even Illinois for that matter, and that alone has left me thinking. We go to school across the country and don’t get the same weekend sleepovers and pool parties whenever we want. We all work in the summer and if finding time to see each other is hard now, it will only get harder.

I have learned to appreciate time with others. At school there are people around me constantly, and finding a peaceful hour or two alone to really get productive is difficult. However, at home, I will squeeze in time with any friend. You’re free for that hour and a half that I’m free? Ok, let’s get brunch.

Well, 6 weeks until my first year of college. Wish me luck

Talk to you Thursday

Alicia

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She

The feeling is one of an indescribable measure. How can you describe something where you feel so much but so little at the same time?

She washes over me a like a wave, engulfing me like a flame, bringing me down with her into that dark abyss. I can’t go back I tell her, I’ve come so far from where I once was. She doesn’t listen to me, she never does. I can never escape her, no matter how hard I try. She will always continue her chase. I try to run away but she takes my hand and drags me back down, farther back, deeper than I had ever been before.

I’m taking one step forward and five steps back. As I put on my mask of happiness for the day to cover the empty feeling writhing inside my very core, it’s back to my daily ritual. Masking my sorrow with a mask that looks almost as fake as it feels.

We all carry on with our days. People pass me by and I can’t help but wonder if they don masks too. What are they hiding? I can’t tell if I have mastered the art of hiding behind this pasted on mask or if no one cares enough to see that I’m falling apart behind it.

It’s obviously the latter she tells me. As the razor glides across my skin I look at myself and all I see is her. How did I get to this point? How did I let her envelop my very being, my entire self?

It has been years of struggle. Of letting her take me to rock bottom. This is the better life she assured me. I’m the only one who cares about you, she reiterates for the hundredth night in a row. As she caresses me every night in bed as I cry to her and tell her of my struggle, she is the only one who listens to me. She understands me, the only one who understands me. At a certain point, I start to agree with her. Maybe she’s right. Maybe she’s the only one who cares for me, understands me, loves me.

But how could that be? People say they love me. She tells me they are lying. That they feel bad for me. That she is the only one who truly cares. Day after day, I debate with what is right. Do I let her continue to love and cherish me, or do I try to get rid of her? How can I get rid of something that seems so natural, so needed. Maybe she needs me and I need her. That’s what she tells me anyway. That the two of us were went to be. And maybe she’s right.

Years of me trying to take control. Trying to loosen the grip she has on my life. Loosen the grip she has held for years. It works sometimes. Sometimes I can pry her long slender fingers from my arm and get free for a period of time. But, no matter what  I do, she always finds a way. She weasels her way back into my life. She creeps up on me when I least expect it. And she seizes me again. After I writhe in pain at her touch for a while, it becomes the norm again. She has done it again, gotten me under her spell, and despite my protests and cries for help, no one can hear me and she has total and complete control over me and my entire being.

Until next time,
Alicia

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Hectic Day, hectic week

What’s up? Me! Flying home as we speak. About a week ago, I had told myself I would blog on the plane. The ride from San Diego to Chicago is a little under 4 hours. So, why would I nap or play Sudoku on my phone for 4 hours when I could do something productive… other than homework. Wasn’t really sure what to discuss in this post, but as I sat down in my row 13 letter F seat, it hit me.

This past week has been hectic. My oh my has it been hectic. As we ascended, I knew exactly that this week has been so hectic. I mean, college itself, is now big ball of hectic, but this week, with midterms, speeches, essays, etc, especially.

I’m one of those people who packs their suitcases prior to trips about 3 months in advance. I’m not joking. The day I got back to school after winter break I had already started making a mental list and shoving some things into my suitcase for spring break. However, when the clothes you’re wearing a few days prior to departure are to be shoved inside that suitcase too, I start panicking. What if I forget my favorite pair of jeans in the hamper or my birthday gift for my sister on my desk, etc. I hope I didn’t. But, starting Monday, I had created a list on a Google doc of my schedule until I left, my packing list, and other things I had to do this week. Anyhow, I had to pack all of my things, prepare for a speech, in class essay, and do all my homework for my other classes.

So, mother nature decided to pay me a visit Monday. The fourth visit actually… in the past month and a half. Queue Michelle from Full House saying, “How rude.” Hopefully, my doctor’s appointment tomorrow fixes this unfortunate event, but until then you can catch me living in the feminine hygiene products section of Target.

Tuesday, I had my final Chemistry lab until after break, and thankfully my group finished first and got everything right, BONUS: we had no quiz either. Thank you Chemistry Gods.

That entire day, was spent cleaning my room. Being that my only class on Tuesday is Chemistry Lab and I was done for the day at 8:57am I decided to nap and get to some spring cleaning.

I cleaned everything. I mean everything. I keep having OCD tendencies and living with the biggest slob on this planet doesn’t help. I cleaned my entire fridge, freezer, microwave, and surfaces around them. After that, I mopped down my desk. My roommate uses it for a cutting board, kitchen counter, basically anything to get it dirty, so that was washed and dried as well.

Staying on my desk, I switched to organization. I went through all of my drawers and the top of my desk grabbing anything I hadn’t used to eave at home and everything I use consistently: eyebrow pencil, chapstick,etc. to also bring home.

Upon creating an absolutely spotless workspace, which I know will be dirty again by tomorrow since my roommate isn’t leaving until tomorrow, I moved onto my bed. Changing my sheets (did that this morning not Tuesday) and removing everything from underneath my bed was quite the adventure. I hadn’t done this since leaving for winter break so it was a little messy. I probably could have made a bunny with all of the hair and dust and things underneath my bed. My inner stereotypical college student was also shown upon seeing all of the granola bar wrapper piled up under there as well. And let’s not forget the curse of the missing earring back. There were more earring backs under my bed than in the entirety of a Claire’s store. Curse you 10 ear piercings. Despite all of that grossness under my bed, I finally finished.

I then moved on to color coordinating my closet and folding everything in my drawers (not that it wasn’t fine and still color-coordinated before… I just made it better) and finally my half of the room was spotless. This took a solid 2 hours to clean and make everything look presentable for myself to return to in 10 days time.

Fast forward to Wednesday. I woke up Wednesday morning, completely forgetting to have prepared anything for my in class essay. Not that we could bring anything to the essay besides an English-Spanish Dictionary, I still had wanted to have a thought or some idea of what I was writing about. I managed to compile some key points, a thesis, and examples before class. Snaps for me and waking up 4 hours before class starts.

After Spanish, I went back to my dorm only to realize that my fateful period has decided to burst through a tampon, my underwear, and favorite jeans, all within the span of 2 hours. Thank god for tide sticks and dads who know what they’re doing when it comes to laundry.

After that mishap, I had to go to my communications class, where we were giving none other than an impromptu speech. I wasn’t nervous about the speech per se, just didn’t want to walk up in front of 35 students with blood rushing down my leg. Sorry for the details. It ended up being fine, however. My speech topic was to pretend I was a famous athlete and to discuss my favorite moment in a game. I pretended I was on the Chicago Sky, the Chicago women’s professional basketball team, and that I was playing for the national title and that I was up against my top competition and ended up breaking her nose. I got a point… AN ENTIRE POINT, for fidgeting. Oops. Well, no blood on my pants,a decent score, and even went to get smoothies with friends after. Then it was time to relax. I watched 4 hours of Worst Cooks in America and got some shut eye.

Now it gets hectic. So, I woke up this morning and saw that it was only 730. I went back to bed until 9, got ready to shower, packed up my pajamas, and got in the shower. After my shower, I got all of toiletries and other things packed away, and, after laying on both of my suitcases, I was able to zip them shut. My roommate who was driving me to the airport got back from yoga at about 11:15. We had agreed upon leaving for the airport at 12. hmmmmmmm. She showered and then was getting ready as I went to our little convenient store on campus to buy food for the flight. I got back at 12 and she was still in her towel in bed. She finally gets ready and its 12:15. I go to walk my bags to the elevator and the elevator isn’t working. I have to carry my 2 suitcases, backpack, and sweatshirt down 3 flights of stairs while she runs to get her car. By the time we’re off campus it’s already 12:30 and the bumper to bumper traffic isn’t helping. With a little hint of luck and her cutting off people left and right, I was able to make it to the airport at 12:56. I cruised through checking my bags and headed to security. By the time I was done at security it was 1:32 and I had 8 minutes before boarding started. I had made it. A wave of relief washed over my body as I saw that  had time. I safely made it on board, and here I am. Next to a middle eastern man who is taking up both armrests squeezing me into the window of the plane. I guess I can’t complain, though. Despite being a B27 boarder, I still got my window seat, and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.
I’ll be home in a matter of hours to see my sister, dog, and most importantly real food.
Talk to you soon
Alicia

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March 20th 6:25am

6:25am As the birds chirp outside my window, signifying the first day of spring, I rise from my slumber to see the time illuminated on my phone. 6:25am it reads. Why would I be up this early on a Sunday morning. I look to my right to see my roommate’s covers pulled back as she is already getting ready for the gym and yoga to follow.

6:29 my phone now reads. The chirping of birds that I heard is replaced by the running of the faucet of those early Sunday risers. Unlocking my phone and peeking at all of my messages, I begin to realize that I may never get back to bed.

6:31 I hear a skateboard cruise along the sidewalk, only creating noise as it crosses the cracks on the sidewalk.

6:37, my door swings open, my room illuminated as my roommate steps back into the room. She grabs something unknown to me and leaves the room again, the room returning back to its dark state, the only light peaking in from under the door.

6:49 the room begins to get lighter as the sun makes its way over the parking structure adjacent to my window. The sky dances with new colors signifying the new day. The pinks, oranges, and reds of the sky casting their colors across every inch of land I can see from my small window.

7:30 The sun is up completely. The brightness causing me to close my blinds slightly as my sleep filled eyes aren’t yet used to all of this light. From across the room I can hear my roommate shuffle across the floor to put her shoes on. She thinks I’m still asleep so she tip-toes across the room collecting her belongings before silently embarking on her walk to the gym.

7:32 As the door closes softly, I am left with myself, the chirping birds, and the sun. I roll over in bed and the next time I check my phone it reads 9:17am.

Until Thursday

Alicia

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P.S. Apparently my last post was my 50th post on this blog. That’s so exciting for me to have posted 50 things on here that people actually read and I can’t wait to post even more.

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Lucky Day

And no, I’m not referring to the seahorse that was supposed to win big in the 2004 hit movie Shark Tale, but I’m talking about St. Patrick’s Day.

Hi all, As I’m assuming all of you know, today is Saint Patrick’s Day. And although my Irish ancestors have cursed me with ivory skin that burns within the first 5 seconds of walking outdoors. However, they did give me a few good genes. Some of those being a love for potatoes (although I’m not quite sure who doesn’t love potatoes so…) and myself and all of my other pale skinned Irish friends have our own day to party and wear green, and pretend we’re leprechauns.

Today, I didn’t manage to leave my bed until 2:17pm, probably not due to the fact that I had no classes today, but the fact that looking outside I didn’t anyone donning green attire with face paint and stupid beads. I didn’t see people with ‘Kiss me I’m Irish” or “Kiss me I’m (pretending to be) Irish” shirts. It was a sight unlike any I’ve ever seen on this holiday.

Back home, St. Patrick’s Day is an enormous deal. The festivities begin the weekend before, as everyone and their mother heads downtown to see the Chicago River being dyed green, followed by a parade, and other events scattered across the city. For the entire week leading up to St. Patrick’s Day, everyone wears some sort of green to school (even my college friends who go to school in Chicago can attest to this statement and the ones to follow) so it not merely us high school folk) in preparation for the grand day.

When St. Patrick’s Day finally arrives, everyone goes all out. Kids show up to school decked out in festive shirts, green pants, shamrock socks and earrings, and of course not forgetting as many green beads that can fit around their necks. Some even dye their hair green for the day or sport green eye shadow, those who do are truly spirited and I give them high praises. Our school is always a sea of green and everyone, whether they are Irish or not, is Irish for the day and stoked about it.

After school, my friends and family head to a bar where my mom grew up where we are fed, and after food, music is played and Irish dancers litter the floor of the bar. They go on for hours until we finally make our way back to my grandma’s house for some of her famous corned beef and cabbage (obviously as a vegan I won’t be eating the corned beef but I do eat cabbage and potatoes).

The day is full of fun, laughter, joy, and just love for the Irish.  I guess California didn’t get the memo about how great of a country Ireland is. So, alas, I will go back to eating potatoes in my dorm and subtly cheering on one of my favorite holidays (aka wearing olive-green shirt, green bracelets, and using my minty green mouthwash).

Until Sunday
Alicia

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Here’s to New Adventures

Good evening everyone. Once again, sorry for not posting on Sunday, my planned post was to discuss my best friend coming to visit me here in San Diego for her spring break, but alas she didn’t leave until late Sunday night, and I spent all of yesterday (after class of course) sleeping. So, here we are now, about to embark in another late blog post about another tidbit of my life.

My friend who came to visit me, is from Arizona, coincidentally she also attends Arizona State University (no that’s not why I’m going there) and her spring break was last week. She visited me for her fall break (I would’ve discussed that on here too but I’m pretty sure I made this blog about a week after she left…) and she decided that San Diego and I were good enough hosts for her to return for another leap of adventure. She arrived in San Diego after my classes and (almost) daily venture to the gym and then after a few hours of watching Netflix and catching up, we went to bed.

Something I was blessed with this semester is not having classes on Thursday’s. Due to this, I do one of two things. 1. Don’t leave my bed until 3pm or 2. Get up bright and early and early and explore my city, always searching for new coffee shops to do homework and escape people.

So, Thursday we hopped on the trolley (sort of like a subway or the L for my Chicagoans) and then transferred to a bus. We ended up taking that bus all the way to its end and ended up at UCSD. Obviously we had no means or longing to be there, so we hopped back on that bus except headed the other way obviously and ended up at a mall where we got lunch. We had been on public transportation for almost 2 hours and had only been to lunch and a bus tour of UCSD. We had no idea what we wanted to do, so we opted to head to downtown La Jolla and just walk around, see the beach etc. so that’s what we did. After eating at a cute vegetarian/vegan place, we got on yet another bus and headed for La Jolla.

Upon arriving in La Jolla, I wanted to see some murals that I have seen on Facebook and heard about through the grapevine. We managed to find one (after walking in the opposite direction for a mile), which was bricks painted in all different colors, however there were cars parked in front of it, so I only got a few pictures. After that, I decided that we could walk to see a few of the other murals. After, once again walking in the wrong direction (thanks Siri) we found a sort of main street La Jolla and took that to find another mural. My friend, Marisa, wanted to see the sea lions of La Jolla, so we made the short walk over to the coast and saw a multitude of them, a few with babies even. We stayed for the Sunset, because what’s better than a sunset on the beach???? After the sunset, we found a few more murals and ended up back at the bus and took it back to Old Town, to get dinner. After dinner we took the trolley back to my dorm and passed out we were so tired.

 

We didn’t do anything on Friday, because I had class and a ton of homework. Marisa ended up visiting another one of her friends who also happened to be in San Diego for spring break, but yeah Friday was nothing special. I slept a lot and did a lot of homework. Grand day.

Saturday was a bit more eventful than Friday. I had wanted to visit a cute cafe that I had seen on a lot of my friends’ Instagrams at Pacific beach, and Marisa had wanted to play mini golf (which there is a course at Mission Beach) so we decided to spend the day at some beaches. There were wayyyyy too many Spring Breakers (not gnarly dude) at the beaches for my liking, however since it was on the colder side (60s) it was better than it could have been. We first went to Mission Beach, where we went to an arcade and I spend about $20 just to leave with a harmonica, duck fan, sticky octopus, eraser, and like some other thing that I literally have no way to describe. After that I creamed Marisa at mini golf. On that note, she was ready to leave Mission Beach to go to Pacific Beach. After taking the bus from Mission Beach to PB, we made it to Rum Jungle Cafe.  Marisa apparently is terrified of fruit and refused to eat the delicious ace bowl topped with mango, banana, pineapple, and coconut. So, I had to eat both of ours (not complaining though because fruit is the bomb). After that we walked around the pier, and around the beach also making it in time for the sunset. Finally about 830 we stopped at Denny’s for dinner. After Denny’s and about 7 trips to the bathroom after inhaling all of the iced tea I could, we boarded the bus again and headed back to campus.

On Sunday, the day Marisa left, we had no idea what we were going to do. Finally, after much debating, I looked at some coffee shops that I had not yet been to, and found some that were somewhat close and decided we would do to them. The first one we went to, called Bird Rock Coffee Roasters, was really good. I got a soy latte and the barista put a cute foam flower on top of the coffee. We didn’t stay too long before making our way to the bus station to get on the #2 bus to be dropped off right by the next shop. Much to our chagrin, the bus wasn’t on time, so we took a different bus and had to walk a mile uphill to get to the coffee shop. Needless to say I had 23 flights of stairs and was not in the mood for anymore hot coffee. We got tea and some cute vegan pasture and sat down, cooling off from our hike up that hill. Once we finally finished there, Marisa and I decided that we would take the bus back to Old town and get dinner before she left. After dinner, we got back to my dorm, I took my mail in ballot to the nearest drop box (#feeltheBern) and then Marisa left.

It was really nice to be able to see her and I can’t wait to be a mere 30 minutes away from each other in the fall.
Alicia

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Dear Body…

Dear body,
You know this already, but I have rekindled my love for exercise and eating healthy and taking care of myself. Due to this, I have also recently realized that all of my years of hating you has taken its toll.

I have spent the past 10 years hating you. I have spent the last 10 years pinching and poking at you, as if my fingers possessed some sort of magic power, granting me the ability to make you smaller and fit society’s ideals. I have spent 10 years hating what I saw in the mirror looking back at me. I have spent the last 10 years telling my mom, dad, friends etc that I did put sunscreen on when in fact I didn’t but I wanted to change the eggshell coating I was given to obtain that longed after sun kissed glow. I have spent 10 years paging through magazines, looking in awe of actresses, singers, Victoria Secret models, and other celebrities near and far, asking myself why don’t you look like them. It has come to my attention that all of this negative energy, and poking, prodding, hating, it has harmed you.

At age 14, I started counting calories. After everyone had told me you were too big, too unhealthy. After my doctor had told me your size had skyrocketed. After people had told me than you needed to be sucked in, hid under clothes, changed, tampered with, etc. Because of all of this, I only allowed 1200 calories for you every day.I did this, hoping to make you smaller, more appealing, more loved, more accepted. When in reality I was harming you, depriving you of all you needed. All you needed to keep me functioning. What I would fill you with was 1200 calories of horrible, processed garbage. I was harming you. I was eating so little and not giving you the proper nutrients for a little girl to grow, flourish, thrive. I was trying to make you smaller, prettier, tanner. I was trying to make you the complete opposite of what you were. I would always leave you wanting more, my stomach grumbling with starvation, and for a while I would not give in.

Alas, these 1200 calorie days were not feasible. So I started bingeing. I would eat a carrot for breakfast. 30 calories for the most important meal of the day. Skipping lunch and then working out trying to burn as many calories as possible. When 3pm hit, and you were sick of being empty, I would fill you with any processed foods I could get my hands on from cookies, cakes, crackers, ice cream… anything to fill up my sad and grumbling stomach. I would do this constantly and then hate myself and you for letting this happen to me.

Everything I would do to you was out of hatred. Every blade to slice open my skin, every suicidal thought, every time I would starve myself to make you more appealing, every time I would binge, was out of hatred to you. When all this time, after all of the years I hated you, you did nothing but love me. You, you were the only one to love me unconditionally after all I had been through. After everything I did to you, you continued to love me.

I never realized all you have done for me. Every day and night for 19 years you have struggles keeping me alive… Struggled keeping me healthy, sane, thriving. Trying so hard to manage on the food I was putting into you, and it was hard. It has been so hard. And I’m so sorry. Every time I put the razor to my skin because I hated  you so much, you would also try to fix yourself. Every part of my body adorned with scars show me this. Every time I would starve myself and not eat despite how many times your grumbles crying out for me to eat, you wouldn’t get mad at me. You still love me, despite everything I have done to you.

Every hateful word I have said and every harsh thing I have done to you, you have continued to love me unconditionally and keep me alive on this world. All I Have to say is that I am sorry. I am sorry for harming you. I am sorry for not loving you. I am sorry for not seeing all you have done and continue to do for me.

I am trying, body. I am trying to love you. I am trying to love you and myself. However, it’s been so hard. But I’m working on it. Nothing but good food has entered you since January 16th. My last binge was January 13th. The last time a razor touched you was September 3rd, 2015. I am working, and I am trying. Thank you for not giving up on me, despite all of the times I have given up on you. I love you.

Alicia

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Family Visits

Hi everyone, last weekend, my aunt and uncle made the venture out from Phoenix Arizona to come to visit me here in San Diego. I am so thankful that they are close enough where they can visit me for fun and get to me if something were ever to happen. Also, the fact that she’s super cool and I get to live with her in the fall is a plus. The two of them  Her came out last Friday night, picked me up Saturday morning and dropped my back off at my dorm mid morning on Sunday.

We spent the day traveling to different breweries in San Diego (a hobby of my uncle’s) among walking along the beach, checking out some stores on the coast, and finding come cool places to eat which also served vegan food. We also went on a little walk at Torrey Pines, the golf course. While my uncle and I were in awe of all of the people who get to play there and how amazing playing there would be (however if you aren’t local the $350 to play a round makes me question so much), my aunt just wanted to take a few pictures.

After visiting countless breweries (literally… I lost count after 5) and eating super yummy food, we returned to the hotel my aunt and uncle were staying in. My uncle passed out in bed in a mere 10 minutes and my aunt and I went to see Deadpool. 10/10 would recommend, however there is an R rating for a reason, so keep that in mind. But I absolutely loved it and would 100% go and see it again.

They were ‘kidnapping’ me, my aunt said and making me stay in their hotel with them.  However, the fact that I got a queen size bed, a private shower, and no need to wear shower shoes, I sure as hell will take that. Honestly, as much as I love going far away for college, the one thing I hate are the showers. I would go home for just a weekend to simply take a shower in a private bathroom, with no fear of someone going in and stinking up the entire room, and to see my dog of course.

Alas, they had to get back to Phoenix Sunday morning… you know work and school taking over out lives once again. So after my well rested night in a huge bed, and a nice shower with no shower shoes, we got breakfast and they dropped me off back at the dorm to attend to laundry and all of the homework I seemed to have forgotten existed after my day full of fun the day before..

So, I will be seeing them again soon, well not super soon but Mid May, after finals. My dad is flying to Phoenix, driving my aunt’s car out to San Diego to move me out and then drive back to put all of my stuff in my NEW ROOM IN MY AUNT’S HOUSE. That’s so crazy. Update on all of that, my cousin who lives with my aunt has a room sort of separate from the rest of the house. He is moving out of the house in a month and that will become my room. So, if I ever get home after they go to bed, I won’t have to worry about them being woken up and I can have my privacy and keep my business to myself while still living with them and being able to have puppies, free food, and family close by. So, it’s nice and I am excited for the fall.

Well, talk to you all soon. Hopefully Thursday.
Alicia.

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I am in need of a new mentality

After my last post about inner beauty being the most important, I realized I never got to say what I actually wanted to discuss. I started off that post saying that I needed to improve n something. The original post title was actually the title of this post “I am in need of a new mentality.” The thing I need to work on is my inner thoughts and actions.

I saw on tumblr once that “The first thought that goes through your mind is what you have been conditioned to think; what you think next defines who you are.” And I truly believe this to be true.

I’ll see someone with rainbow hair and hella piercing and at first I’ll be like “yikes” and right after I think that I’ll immediately regret thinking that and instead be like “wow girl you look bomb, more power to you. defy norms be awesome” etc.

I have also noticed I tend to do this more when with friends. When my friends are like “wow he/she looks ugly” or “why would they wear that” I tend to agree right off the bat. And I hate that I do that. It’s just second nature to judge people and that we live in a world where judgement comes so naturally.

Something I have always wanted /needed to do is to live a life of complete non-judgement. I need to stop basing my first reactions of people on my first judgemental thoughts. I know everyone is victim to it.

After dying my hair red, while there were so many people who were very supportive and who loved it, there were a ton of people who judged it, and people I didn’t know were also very judgemental of it too. They probably judged my whole self based on my hair color when in reality they knew nothing about me. It’s sad that this is the kind of world that we live in, but it’s reality.

I hate when I judge people based on random things. Maybe they have crazy hair, or a lot of piercings, or a ton of tattoos, maybe they have gauges, dress differently than me, or whatever else it may be. That doesn’t give me a right to judge them. Especially because I had had red hair, I have 3 tattoos, I have 11 piercings, and I don’t dress the same as everyone.

Just because someone is different than me doesn’t give me the right to judge. Just because I could never see myself with gauges or with a neck tattoo, doesn’t give me the right to judge those people who like those things. I don’t like being judged by people who don’t know me and basing me off of my appearance and not my personality. So, if I don’t like it, why can i judge others on the same things I hate? Oh right, I can’t.

That’s all for now.

Until Thursday

Alicia

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Does What’s on the Inside Truly Matter?

Hi everyone. Look at me a week of keeping up with my post schedule. So proud of myself.

Anyways, something that I have always wondered about is the differentiation of inner and outer beauty and which one truly matters. I have come to realize there are quite a few things in my life that need work/ I need to improve on. Something people always think of when people say they want to fix something is something on the outside ie. needing to lose 20 pounds, wanting to fix their nose, wanting to get toned, etc. I’m already working on those (not the nose one… I think my nose is cute) by going to the gym and eating healthy and vegan and gluten-free whenever possible.

What people never seem to focus on is what is on the inside. We are raised being told it’s what’s on the inside that matters, but is that truly the case? When women in magazines are drop dead gorgeous and photoshopped to hide every flaw and every celebrity looks god/goddess-like wherever they go. In high school, and hell even middle school, the ‘popular crowd’ is always the cream of the crop on the outside. But what about their insides? Let me tell you there are some evil thoughts inside those perfect porcelain walls of theirs. Not that people not in those groups can’t be downright rude and a displeasure to be around, but if they are, they don’t have nearly as many friends if any at all. So, does it really matter what’s on the inside? That’s a question I’ve always wondered. I’ve (almost) always been a nice kid, especially in school ,and have never been considered popular. Popular amongst my group of friends,sure, but not what every kid envisions growing up.

In mean girls (do not judge me for using mean girls as an example.. it was a staple in every girl’s life growing up), Regina George is a horrible person : she bullies people, is so rude to her friends and everyone around her, and cheats on her boyfriend, yet, because she is gorgeous, she is considered a queen (literally… boys carried her outside for gym) I remember growing up and thinking I wanted to be popular, but never wanting to stoop to Regina George’s level to attain that much attention and popularity. So, what truly matters? the outside or the inside? In order to have all of these friends and get likes and favorites on instagram and twitter, do I have to be drop dead gorgeous or just know how to contour so well I look like a completely different person? Is that what it takes? Unfortunately neither of those things are attainable for me, so what now?

Do I succumb to a level of bitchiness with average looks in hope of achieving more friends? Of course not.So, what? I need to step back and look at everyone in my life I do have. Do I want to be friends with those people like Regina George who bully people, or with the people who bullied me? What about those people who are rude to their own friends to make themselves feel better? No, why would I want to be friends with those people, I want to be friends with genuine people and make long lasting quality friendships.

I have spent so much of my life longing to be popular and gorgeous. I have spent my fair share of time wondering if my friends and I were prettier, skinnier, more athletic etc… would we be popular? These things used to keep me up at night. When in the end it really doesn’t matter. My friends and I are beautiful just the way we are. We may not look like Barbie dolls, but we are genuine, kind, loving, caring, intelligent, generous, and just overall amazing human beings. They are there for me at all times during my best and worst times, and I am so thankful for all they do for me. So, the truth is, what’s on the inside does truly matter.

That’s all for today

Talk to you all on Saturday

Alicia

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