My great friend Ashley just started a blog, and her very first post asked the question of "What makes you happy?" Her blog makes me happy. If you want to check it out, go here. But it got me thinking-there are TONS of things that make me happy, simple pleasures in my every day life that make me smile every time. Because I'm uncreative, here is a list, in no particular order:
-Baking
-A well organized closet
-Sunshine
-My family
-Dani and Robyn
-My nephew
-My English clique
-Winning (Shallow, yes. Do I care? NOPE.)
-Analyzing literature
-My friends
-Phone calls
-Writing and receiving letters and thank you notes
-Late night conversations
-Driving with the windows down
-Hi-Chews
-Teaching
-Strawberries
-Puppies and babies
-Diet Coke
-Cleaning something in detail
-Going to bed early
-My work friends
-Spicy food
-Buying presents for people and making them open them early because I can't stand to wait
-Clean sheet night
-Walking barefoot in grass
Really, the list could go on for pages and pages. I've been really consciously trying to notice little things that bring me joy, and the result has been incredible!
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Sunday, April 6, 2014
BFFs
I vividly remember the most terrifying experience I had while attending White Pine. My friend and I were walking through the halls when a tall, pale, gangly boy wearing a bright pink backpack started running full speed down the main hall, his curly, unruly bangs bouncing on his long forehead. He ran around crazily, squawking and occasionally stopping to stare directly into someone's face, fall completely silent, and then loudly bark before running off again. I pressed up against the wall, hoping that I would not be the next victim. As the boy ran away down the hall, I murmured to my friend, "What kind of person would be friends with that kid?"
Turns out, I'm the type of person.
That kid was David Marshall, and that was our first encounter. Cut forward to our junior year of high school, when after school I saw David walking ahead of me, remembered that he had recently moved into our neighborhood, and ran to catch up and offer him a ride. He looked slightly taken aback, and then accepted. As we walked, I boldly started the conversation with an offhanded, irrelevant fact about myself that I was sure would be the clincher in our just-about-to-be-an-awesome friendship. David, astounded, shouted "Me too!" From then on, we were inseparable.
That first day on the ride home, David climbed into my sea foam green mini van and reached into the backseat, pulling out my colorguard rifle and examining it gleefully. He then proceeded to roll down the window and mercilessly fake shoot the group of seminary teachers walking home after school. Mortified, I shouted at him to stop, telling him that he was shooting my teacher. He excitedly turned around and shouted, "Me too!" before continuing his rampage.
Since that first awkward conversation and drive, David and I have been best of friends. He taught me not to take life as seriously and that it's okay to look and act stupid on occasion. I was forced to quickly got over my embarrassment of driving with him, and even forgave him when he thought it would be funny to write "Katy does meth" all over Sky View. His is one of the longest friendships I have, and I cherish it.
We're in very different places in our lives now, and are motivated by extremely different things. But I know I can always call him for a pick-me-up, count on him to buy me a drink at The Owl, and go on car rides talking about our futures. I'm extremely glad my 7th grade terror didn't keep me away from forming a great friendship.
Turns out, I'm the type of person.
That kid was David Marshall, and that was our first encounter. Cut forward to our junior year of high school, when after school I saw David walking ahead of me, remembered that he had recently moved into our neighborhood, and ran to catch up and offer him a ride. He looked slightly taken aback, and then accepted. As we walked, I boldly started the conversation with an offhanded, irrelevant fact about myself that I was sure would be the clincher in our just-about-to-be-an-awesome friendship. David, astounded, shouted "Me too!" From then on, we were inseparable.
That first day on the ride home, David climbed into my sea foam green mini van and reached into the backseat, pulling out my colorguard rifle and examining it gleefully. He then proceeded to roll down the window and mercilessly fake shoot the group of seminary teachers walking home after school. Mortified, I shouted at him to stop, telling him that he was shooting my teacher. He excitedly turned around and shouted, "Me too!" before continuing his rampage.
Since that first awkward conversation and drive, David and I have been best of friends. He taught me not to take life as seriously and that it's okay to look and act stupid on occasion. I was forced to quickly got over my embarrassment of driving with him, and even forgave him when he thought it would be funny to write "Katy does meth" all over Sky View. His is one of the longest friendships I have, and I cherish it.
We're in very different places in our lives now, and are motivated by extremely different things. But I know I can always call him for a pick-me-up, count on him to buy me a drink at The Owl, and go on car rides talking about our futures. I'm extremely glad my 7th grade terror didn't keep me away from forming a great friendship.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)