Spring Break, Day #7

This morning was the essence of "chillax." For those who may be unaware, the word "chillax" is derived from a combination of the colloquial term "chill", meaning to be calm, and the word relaxing. For example, laying in bed half the morning working on homework, reading, and watching YouTube videos was very chillax.

(Source)

Once the afternoon hit, I became increasingly lethargic and managed to convince myself that a nap was appropriate. I always struggle with naps, because as much as I enjoy sleeping, the repercussions are always much worse than I care to handle. This time, however, I tried to fool myself into thinking that it was not a true nap if I was reading and just happened to fall asleep doing so. 

On awakening, I prepared myself for Stations of the Cross and a study/hangout session with a friend afterward. Stations of the Cross always has a way of humbling me and refocusing my spiritual compass. It helps me become more aware of the sacrifice Jesus made and reminds me that I am accountable for his suffering every time I sin. As harsh as it may sound, I do not think of it as the stereotypical "Catholic guilt" - instead, I think of it as the most endearing thing a loved one could do. 

With that in mind, I cheerfully joined my friend for what was supposed to be a night of coffee, catching up, and studying. Instead, we decided to try the hot chocolate from Moonstruck Chocolate (DELICIOUS!), study, and grab some dinner at Little Big Burger (veggie burger and truffle fries for me, of course). 

All in all, it was a very pleasant semi-end to my spring break.

Spring Break, Day #6

Though today was not terribly exciting, it was not bad either. I redecorated my room somewhat and finally made the decision to try out the bottom level of the bunk bed. It looks... promising.

After a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and yogurt, I took some time preparing for the outdoors - sometimes also considered dressing. The weather did not look like it would change from lightly overcast, so I decided to take the risk and wear a skirt I bought on the shopping trip with my sister. I think I made a good choice.

The first destination of the day was a tea shop just off the corner of 11th and Glisan called The Tea Zone & Camellia Lounge. A friend of mine had recommended it to me a while ago, but I never made the time to try it. Well today was the day I did - and I am so glad! The staff was friendly upon entering and even recommended a drink for me when I could not seem to make up my mind. I took their recommendation for a Heat Wave bubble tea (always a good choice for me) and it was delicious! The place was not only clean, but cosy. I studied there for a bit before moving on with my day.

My next stop was the public library - no surprise there - to drop off a few books and pick up a couple more. I lucked out and found BJ Novak's novel on the shelf which I am very much looking forward to reading. I also picked up a book entitled Why Zebra's Don't Get Ulcers. It claims to be a guide to stress, stress-related diseases, and coping. A book I had read previously, Insomnia by Gayle Green, recommended it so I placed a hold on it as soon as I could.

Just down the street from the public library was Target. The convenient location could be dangerous for some people, but I pride myself in having established particular habits that prevent me from spending most of my time (off campus, and second only to the library) and money there. Usually I have a detailed shopping list as well as bags to carry my items home. This time, however, I thought a casual stroll would be fine what with it being nice day and spare time I had. I ended up buying replacement lightbulbs for my lamp, a Maybelline Baby Lips, a soy candle, a bag of Bugles, and a tin of Yan-Yans.

Of course, upon exiting Target it began sprinkling. A quick dash to the streetcar stop secured me a spot under cover from the rain, although it did not protect me from others' titters about the inappropriateness of my outfit for the conditions. I did bring an umbrella, but - silly me - it was tucked under my recent purchases. Fortunately the streetcar came and whisked me back to the safety and warmth of home.

Upon returning, I settled in bed to read and eventually fell asleep. And here I lay, still in bed, typing this while watching a show called Michiko & Hatchin.

Sea of Hooks by Lindsay Hill

I definitely wish I had spent more time with this novel. I was initially interested in it because of the author who is a long-time poet who spent a decade writing this novel. It was a decade well spent. 

Sea of Hooks is artfully crafted into an abstract tale of a young man who makes sense of life through found objects. The novel looks at the inevitable consequences and remnants of life events and their impact on the lives that they intersect. 

At first I thought the novel cast a pessimistic shadow over the concept of life, but the thoughts hidden in perfectly woven metaphors were rather inspiring. The give hope to even the most hopeless situation. 

Although this novel may not be everyone's cup of tea, I recommend it if an appropriate amount of time can be devoted to it. 

Spring Break, Day #5

This morning I woke with a start. I barely slept last night, the usual traveling jitters, and was convinced that I had mistaken the time of my flight's departure with the time of its arrival. I have no idea why. Realizing it was a false alarm, I tried with no avail to return to sleep. Instead, I hung in a half-awake daze until my alarm rang.

I sprung out of bed, turned on the oven, and got dressed. My sister bought waffle sandwiches from our favorite waffle sandwich place, Bruxië's, to supplement us for our long day of traveling and it was my responsibility to make sure they were warmed appropriately. Just after I had finished getting dressed, my sister joined me at the mirror to apply makeup. Using the tips I had given her the night before, she coordinated a lovely shade of purple with a nice beige eyeshadow. Watching her in the mirror, I started tearing up - partially because I was so proud of her, partially because I was impressed how quickly she had caught on, and partially because I did not want to leave. Both of us were too preoccupied to notice the time.


After we finished our breakfast and gathered last-minute things, we headed on our way. My sister's flight was later in the day - meaning she had a whole day of work ahead of her after dropping me off. I had hoped to treat her to a coffee or something beforehand, but we soon realized that the most important thing we needed to get was - you may have guessed it - gas.



On our way to the airport I became increasingly distraught at the thought of saying goodbye to my sister. I am sure she could tell by my passivity during the drive. Sure we chit-chatted, but I did not have the strength to hide my despondency, nor did I have the wherewithal to explain my behavior.

Is not that a shame? Throughout the drive I could have reminded her of all the things I love about her, shared some more outrageous nursing student stories, made wisecracks about our surroundings to make her laugh, or even sung my lungs out with her to music. We could have talked about our trips, work, books, music, etc. Heck, we could have played "I spy" for all it matters.

Why is it that some people become so upset at saying goodbye? I could say I inherit the habit from my mother, but it is not as simple as that. I suppose it is because I have a pessimistic view of changes, or because I become so attached to having people in my life. Whatever the reasoning may be, I just hope that it does not interfere with the interpretation of my feelings toward the person to whom I am saying goodbye.