Ode to the Blister on my Foot

Dear Blister,
I got you walking from my house to my favorite spot
to eat breakfast.
I was wearing my new shoes from Target,
the ones that are
so cute and only cost $22.95.
But now, damn blister,
I am stuck here. I cannot walk home
because if I do, you will pop and maybe even
bleed.
Dear Blister,
You are not Dear at all.
In fact,
I hate you.

Ode to the String Cheese I Bought at Topside

Note: I have decided to make this week Ode Week. I enjoy a good Ode every now and then, so, logically, my multitudinous readership will as well. Since I didn't write an ode yesterday, I will try to get a second one in tonight. Also, Topside is the campus convenience store.
Oh, dear string cheese.
You were an impulse buy
while I was trying to find vegetable oil or butter to make Emma's birthday cake.
I saw you and I thought
"people on weight watchers sometimes eat you because you are a 'healthy' snack."
I know your secret, though.
Really, you have a lot of fat and salt.
But you are delicious anyway.
And also stringy.
I ate some of you for inspiration.
And I was inspired.

Ode to a Dress from the Gap

Oh black dress that cost forty dollars at the Gap.
How I love you so.
I can wear you to the beach or to class.
Even though you have a little hole in the back from when I snagged you on a door the first time I wore you,
You are still great.
I can wear you with a shirt.
I can wear you without a shirt.
I can wear you to take care of The Girl.
Although sometimes I worry that you are a bit revealing for that.
Oh, Dress, even though you make me look a little hippy in the picture that I took,
I love you anyway.

It's That Time of Year Again!

I just spent an hour making PINK! SPARKLY! NAMETAGS! for sorority rush.
Sorority girls, three-year-old girls- it's all the same really.

So Many Germs

I thought I'd made it through a summer with The Girl (she of the low muscle tone and near-constant colds) without getting sick once (except for the strep throat incident, but that doesn't count 'cause I was REALLY sick, not just all stuffed up and generally cold-y) because I was STRONG! And I had BUILT UP MY IMMUNITIES! (Wow. Two sets of parentheses in one sentence. I win.)
This is not the case.
A week after I get back to Dartmouth, home to five thousand eighteen- to twenty-two-year-olds, I am sick. Not in a little way. In a my voice sounds funny and yesterday when I tried to make a comment in class I had to stop because the snot running down my face was a little distracting way. It's not pretty.
At least I can find comfort in the fact that at least a thousand other Dartmouth students have this nasty nasty cold, too.

I am being 22.

Note: I haven't had my computer for a couple of days, and Oh! How I have missed the internet! But anyway, I wrote this post a couple days ago. It's kinda whiny and all "who am I?" But if you don't think these things when you're 22, when else? I'll be back to my regularly scheduled thoughts on shoes and the sororitee tomorrow.
Do you ever try to compare yourself to someone who seems, in every aspect that matters, to be better than you? Maybe they are smarter, more successful, better looking, "cooler," more stylish, who really cares, just better. Usually, you can justify your existance to yourself with the thought that "no matter how great they are, I'm nicer!"
But then you start thinking about that, and then you start wondering, is that just an illusion? Am I not really as nice as I think I am? Really, deep down inside, am I secretly a mean and nasty person? Or maybe not even so deep down. Maybe my whole self-image is false; maybe I am just as mean as all those people out there who I think I'm better than.
Then what do you have?
It's kind of a dilemma.

Or maybe I'm the only one who thinks about that sort of thing.

Note to Self

Watching the Democratic Debate while tipsy makes it difficult to decide who to vote for.