don't talk to me

I'm a Gilmore Girl's fanatic. I love it. Love. More than I've ever loved any man, and quite possibly more than I ever will love one. Because, let'sface it, as great as men are to have around, they just don't quite provide the wit and drama that the Gilmore Girls do. (Well, maybe the drama, but it's not quite as fun when I'm the one crying.) So, every Tuesday night (hey, that's TONIGHT) at eight o'clock, rest assured that I will be in front of my TV.

My roommate has started inviting her friends over to watch with us. Sounds fun, right? A Gilmore Girl's party! Wrong. Big. Fat. Wrong. The problem? Unlike me, these people have not been obsessed since season 1. They weren't there when Rory got accepted to Chilton, or even to Yale, aren't aware of her past relationships with Dean and Jess, or about Lorelai's dating history. So. They show up late. Which means that I have to go downstairs to let them in. (Because my roommate shows up even later than her friends.) I've been tempted to leave them out in the cold until a commercial break, but I'm too much of a pushover to really ever do that. And then, of course, they need to be caught up. Not only on today's episode, but on the entire history of the Gilmore Girls.

Wait, that's her mother? Is Luke her dad? I'm confused. Could you please explain the last five seasons to me?

No, I absolutley cannot. Not during the show, anyway. If you want to know what's going on, show up an hour early, and I'll tell you whatever you need to know. But do NOT talk to me while the Gilmore Girls are talking. It's really a simple rule that we should have learned in elementary school. Listen when someone else is talking. And, yes, Rory and Lorelai count as real people.

Now, maybe you think I'm a little pathetic for getting so worked up about fake events happening in the lives of imaginary people. But they're FUNNY. Just watch, you'll see.

sweet contentment

Everybody needs to celebrate being in love on Valentines day. So I woke up this morning, and at the risk of re-living a lot of heartbreak and loneliness, pulled out my notebook of love letters I've collected over the years. I read cautiously at first, skimming over some and entirely skipping others. But then I became more brave, reading and re-reading each, laughing at old memories and drawing myself into what seems now to be somebody else's life. It was marvelous to realize that I can now relive all of my past memories, even the ones that devastated me at the time, without any anger, bitterness or hurt.

After school, I had a cozy homemade dinner with friends, then drove home and played my cello for a while. (It's amazing how therapeutic that can be.) Then I changed into my enormously warm yellow hoodie, and snuggled under my covers with ginger ale, candy, and a book. I finished The Grapes of Wrath, then stayed up until 3 am starting Madame Bovary. Perfect.

how to win my heart

In honor of Valentines Day, here are some ways men have charmed me. (To make up for the not-so-charming conversations that never should have taken place.)

God must hate me for taking you away from me. I don't know what I'm going to do without you.

Every day, you become more and more beautiful to me.

I think you're being savead for someone special, somebody worthy of your greatness.

I've never met anybody quite like you. You're the most incredible friend I've ever known.

I love you. You may not believe me right now, but I do.

I am so grateful for you. I can't think about you without having hundreds of wonderful memories come to mind. I love you for who you are and everything you do.

My life is so blessed to have you in it.

Now, this is why I love dating.

christmas joy

I opened one of my presents labeled "To: Poodle From: Mom" and peeked inside.

Um, mom? Isn't this Ashley's sweater?

Yup. I took it out of her drawer last night.

And gave it to me? For Christmas?

Well, it's not really mine to give, so you can go put it back in her drawer now.

Okay... But why did you wrap it up and put MY name on it?

Well, I was looking at all of the gift piles last night, and yours looked smaller than everyone else's. So I found some things around the house and wrapped them up to put in your pile. You know, so they all look even.

Right.

whoa, twins!

I've been on lots of dates in my life. Granted, I haven't had a single offer in the past five months, but during my glorious college days, I usually had a couple a week. But these were not just regular old dates. They were first dates. Every one of them. Because, somehow, I never managed to score a second date with anyone. Ever. Now, most of the time, I was more than okay with this, but still. It would have been nice to know that somebody wanted to spend more than just one evening with me.

I thought I was getting pretty good at the first-date-get-to-know-you conversation and body language. Lean forward and smile intently during a story. Toss head back and laugh at punchline. Really, I had it down. I repeated it a hundred times a semester, so I definitely had enough practice. Was my personality really that lame that not one single man wanted to call me again?

Now, my little sister and I look a lot alike. A lot. Which can be pretty funny at times. We had our bishop convinced for an entire year that we were twins.

Hey, girls. My wife tried to tell me last week that you two actually aren't twins. Don't worry, though. I didn't fall for it.

Good job, bishop. You're too smart for her!

I had a large 8x10 picture of her in my apartment last year, and every single person who walked in thought it was me. Without fail. (Did they really think I was that vain? Seriously, that's embarrassing.)

Hey, that's a really good picture of you!

Oh. Thanks. That's not me.

Wow, I didn't know you were a twin!

That's probably because I'm not.

(Apparently, she's the cute one, because every "really good picture of me" has actually been of her.) So I've come to understand when people may occasionaly mistake us for each other. Complete strangers often smile, wave, "Hi, Ashley!" "Oh, hey. I'm actually her sister." And the same thing happened to her. A lot.

Um, Poodle, could you tell your friends that I'm not you?

What?

Oh, some boy today thought I was you.

Well, who was he?

I don't know. Brown hair, looked like an engineer.

Well, gee. That sure narrows it down.

He thinks he went on a date with me last week.

What?! Did you tell him you're my sister?

Well, no. I just told him I had no idea who he was. (She really is quite a charmer.)

Wow, thanks. That's wonderful. How often does this happen, exactly?

Oh, about once a week.

Great. That's just fabulous.

Well, at least it wasn't my lame personality that kept them away.

how not to charm a woman

conversations that probably never should have taken place, but did.

him: I want you to be my girlfriend.
me: I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I'm just not attracted to you.
him: Okay, well then, I'm going to ask you not to date anyone else for the next six months. That should give you enough time to fall in love with me.
me: You have GOT to be kidding me.

him: Hey, happy birthday!
me: Wow, thanks for remembering!
him: Well, did you get the present I sent you?
me: No, but I'll check the mail as soon as I get home.
him: Oh, don't bother. I didn't send anything.
me: Oh. Thanks, anyway..

him: Wow, you really should not ever wear those jeans.
me: Silence. For the rest of the evening.

him: You want to marry me.
me: What?? No, I don't.
him: Yes, you do. I know you do. All I have to do is ask. Of course, I'm not going to, but still. If I did, you'd say yes.
me: Well, I didn't want to before, but after that charming speech, how can I resist?

me: (towards the end of a date) Can I use your restroom?
him: No. You should have gone while we were at the concert.
me: What? Seriously?
him: Yes, seriously.
me: Wow.

him: I just hurt you pretty badly. You should be crying right now. I know you want to. So why aren't you?
me: Right. Bye.

him: Wow, you looked really terrible this morning.
me: Um, yeah. I know. Thanks for reminding me.
him: Well, do you want to have dinner with me on Friday?

me: Sometimes I worry that people think I'm boring.
him: Yeah, I can see how they'd think that.
me: Thanks a lot. Really.

mother dear

They were arguing, this time louder than usual. It was the same debate that seemed to have crept up again and again over the past several months. Only now, it was worse. She threatened to leave him if he didn't grant her this one request. Leave him, tearing apart their family and their home. She loved him, and her childern, but she desperately needed just this one thing. Just this, she thought, could make it okay. Could make her okay.

It was late, almost midnight, and the kids were all in bed. But the arguing had woken one, the young girl. She crouched at the top of the stairs, listening, tears trickling slowly down her thin red face. She was so scared, so unsure. Unsure if her mother would still be there in the morning, or if her mother even loved her. The child needed her, so desperately, but wondered how much longer she would be there. How could she threaten to leave? A mother couldn't do that, not if she really loved her family.

But the mother did love her child. She loved her whole family, desperately, and knew that her threat was blank. She never really would have left. Not really. She couldn't have - she loved them too much. But the abuse she had faced years ago, throughout her own childhood, had caught up to her. To a child, a mother is a protector. But hers had not been, had only added to the threat, and she knew that other children faced that same terror now. And, while she hadn't been able to protect herself, she could protect them. She had always provided safety for her own family, but that wasn't enough. No, she had to do more, to provide that surety for every child who lacked it. It was the only way.

The child, however, didn't understand this. Not then. She was only eight years old, and knew little of who her mother really was, of what she had faced. But, with time, she learned to understand. Slowly, pieces of a shattered life, an ugly life at times, began to fit together, finally forming a magnificent whole. Her mother had always loved her, she knows this now. But the woman had known so little of love in her early years, she struggled to convey its full depths to her own children. But now the child knows, and has forgiven. But what really is there to forgive? She had simply shown her how to love, to love all, and to provide for those who need it most. And that is her greatest gift.

this is a true story

Now, just so you know, I love my roommate dearly, and she really is much smarter than this may make her sound. But it happened over 2 years ago, and I still laugh out loud every time I think about it.

Poodle! Guess what I got at the store!

Um, a box of milk duds you want to share with me?

No. Good guess, though. I got TWO GALLONS for THREE DOLLARS.

Two gallons of what?

You know, two gallons.

Um, right. But two gallons of what?

Just two gallons.

You know, I still just don't really get it.

Two gallons. For three dollars!

Right. You said that. Two gallons of what?

Nothing! Just two gallons.

You bought two gallons of NOTHING for three dollars?

Yes!

Friend, I think you just got RIPPED OFF.

No! They were selling one gallon for $3.50 So two gallons was a better deal.

Oh, yes. Smart move. I'd much rather have two gallons of nothing than just one.

Yeah, I know! That's a lot more, for less!

Right.

I have no idea why Smith's thought they could sell intelligent customers two gallons of nothing for three dollars. But thanks to my roommate, they did.

*This story is completely, totally, 100% true. Well, maybe only 95% true. I don't think I ever said anything about milk duds. But they sure sound good, don't they?

my biggest pet peeve

Hating. Specifically, hating a generalized group of people. Such as Those Who Drive With Their Brites On. Those Who Drive Slow in the Fast Lane. Or, Those Who Hold Up the Line at the Post Office. How can we hate someone for such petty acts? Can you really believe that people who commit such heinous crimes can have absolutely no redeeming qualities? That they are all menaces to society, and probably have a secret, underground group called Lets Annoy the Masses (LAM)? That they spend their days driving up and down the freeway with their brites on, simply to bug us? Now, doesn't that sound just a little ridiculous?

But I guess this makes me one of Them. One of The Haters that I hate so much. Only, I aim my malice at Those Who Hate for Stupid Reasons. But I have a righteous reason for my hatred. I'm just want some love in the world.

What the world needs now is love sweet love....

So, clearly, I'm justified. Right? Right?

Right.

Can I really believe that Those Who Hate for Stupid Reasons have no redeeming qualities? That they spend their days hating for stupid reasons just to bug me? Now, that does sound just a little ridiculous. I guess you can't conquer hate with hate.

is it considered lazy

if you walk an extra 15 feet so you can use the automatic door?

saying goodbye

It had been a year since I'd left, and had returned for a brief visit. My sister was leaving, and I had come back to say goodbye. She was gone now, and I wandered around campus, marveling at how little had changed in the scenery, but how it all somehow seemed different. It was no longer a part of me, but merely memories, a part of my past. My life had moved on, had moved east.

Then I heard his voice. A voice from an even more distant past, but one that I could never forget. No, I had spent too many nights dreaming of it, and too many days absorbed in its words, consumed by their meaning, knowing that every moment established a deeper and stronger connection with him. But those days were over. He was married now, happily married, and had a son. I walked hesitantly toward him, unsure of what to say or if I should say anything at all. After all, he was married. And, although years had passed since I last longed for and craved his love, his wife knew me and of our past. She had been present for most of it, since the three of us had grown up in the same neighborhood. I knew that I had moved on, but was unsure if she completely believed it, or if the past still haunted her. My past, with him.

But it was too late. He saw me, and walked towards me.

Come have dinner with us.

Ummm... I don't know.

Have dinner with us. Tonight. I'll have her call you.

And that was that. I spent the evening watching them interact, as husband and wife. They played with their son, discussed plans. I told them about the men who had come in and out of my life, and how I was still looking for one who would enter and stay for good. He talked about school, she, about her child. He and I had needed each other for a time, but that time was over, for both of us. They had each other now, and gave each other what they both needed. And I had been provided with everything I needed and more, through other men and other means. And I was glad he hadn't chosen me.

Welcome

Hello, Katie, and welcome to my blog. Please feel free to peruse at your leisure. I hope you enjoy your time here at Pink Poodle Prints.

who am i, really?

I really feel like there are a billion and one different versions of me. I'm constantly changing, adapting, and being influenced by the people and events surrounding me. And by the scenery. As I type, I am gazing out my bedroom window at snow drifting lightly over the forest of trees in my back yard. It's enchanting, and somehow makes me believe that life is good, that I'm okay. And this moment, watching the snow fall and enjoying the warmth of my blanket, has changed me, just like every other moment and every other experience. I'm no longer exactly the girl I was ten minutes ago. Even if you knew everything there ever was to know about me yesterday, you wouldn't know me so completely anymore. The summation of an infinity of near-nothings has shaped me into me. But only for this brief moment, for the moments never stop adding up.

But if this is true, why am I ashamed of who I used to be? Why am I still embarrased at the home videos of a skinny, white-haired girl jumping in front of the camera to attract attention? Enough moments have accumulated since then that I no longer see any sign of that girl in me. The new episodes have entered in, crowding the old and pushing them out of existence. Although I may no longer be the dorky seven-year-old, she is a part of my past, a the pages of my life neatly folded away and nearly forgotten. If I hadn't once been her, I would not now be me. Not completely.

100 Things, all about me

1. I love the color pink.
2. I love shoes with tall heels.
3. I have a BS in mechanical engineering.
4. I'm currently working on my master's degree in mechanical engineering.
5. Grad school made me realize that I love taking classes, hate research.
6. I'm graduating in August and teaching high school.
7. I'm more excited about it than anything else I've ever done.
8. I come from a very accomplished family (2 doctors, a CEO, an accomplished pianist, etc.) and feel a lot of pressure to live up to their expectations.
9. I love my sisters more than anything in the world.
10. I'm naming my first daughter after my mom.
11. I get really jealous of people I don't love.
12. As soon as I start really loving them, the jealousy goes away.
13. I never complain at restaurants or other establishments, no matter how bad the food/service/experience was.
14. I love staying up late at night talking.
15. I love my quiet time in the morning.
16. I read about 30 books last year.
17. I've already finished 4 this year.
18. I'm willing to try anything, as long as it doesn't go against my beliefs.
19. I hate dancing.
20. I'm terrible at it.
21. A boy once stopped dancing with me in the middle of a song and walked away.
22. I thought it was kind of funny.
23. I love road trips.
24. I have a hard time finding people who love them as much as I do to come with me.
25. I doesn't take much to make me really happy.
26. One of my closest high school friends told me during my senior year of college that he was in love with me and wanted to marry me.
27. I wasn't in love with him, but still really really hated hurting him.
28. I've been in love before.
29. He wasn't in love with me.
30. I've realized recently that I'm okay with it.
31. I went to prom with a guy who had his ears, eyebrow, nipples, and tongue pierced.
32. He claimed he had something else pierced, but I never saw that.
33. I love dogs.
34. I'm a sucker for charm and romance.
35. That can cause problems for me.
36. My favorite flowers are tulips and orchids.
37. I love valentine's day, even if I don't have a boyfriend.
38. Stay-at-home mom is my ideal job.
39. I can't wait to have kids.
40. I want to have as many as possible, but I worry I won't be able to have a lot...
41. One of my bones is attached backwards from the way it's supposed to be.
42. My hair was practically white when I was a kid.
43. Until about 2 years ago, I thought it was still really blonde.
44. It's brown.
45. I'm learning to play the cello.
46. I love the sound of string instruments.
47. I've always wanted to be a ballerina, even though I usually hate dancing.
48. I lost weight freshman year of college.
49. I gained it all back.
50. I'm still really skinny.
51. I lose weight every time I move somewhere new.
52. I would do anything for my friends.
53. My favorite feeling is knowing I've helped somebody recognize their potential. Maybe that's why I always fall for men who have way more potential than they give themselves credit for.
54. I can't stay mad at anyone for very long.
55. The scariest moment of my life was when I thought my sister hated me.
56. I completely fell apart and could hardly function.
57. She didn't hate me.
58. My relationship with her now is better than it's ever been.
59. I love eating candy during movies.
60. I inherited my mom's sweet tooth.
61. I've never had a falling out with a friend that wasn't resolved.
62. The smell of coffee makes my chest hurt.
63. I'm incredibly competitive.
64. I hate that about myself.
65. Texture is more important to me than taste in food.
66. I love to bake, but rarely do because I'm poor.
67. I used to have to take pills every day that made me throw up.
68. I stopped taking them without consulting my doctor, because I was tired of feeling sick all the time.
69. Turns out I'm perfectly healthy without them.
70. I love wearing dangly earrings.
71. I love to travel.
72. That's why I'm broke.
73. No movie has ever made me cry.
74. Arachnaphobia was the only movie that gave me nightmares.
75. I love giving and getting surprises.
76. I hate looking like I'm lost.
77. If I realize I'm going the wrong way, I'll go into the bathroom and walk the other way when I come out, so nobody sees looking lost.
78. I love being in nature.
79. This usually surprises people, because I'm almost always dressed up.
80. I've never once worried that I won't get married.
81. I love listening to the Lizzie McGuire soundtrack.
82. My new favorite band is Nickel Creek.
83. The elders in my little sister's mission told her they think I'm hot.
84. I've always wanted to date a younger man. Maybe I'll have her set me up with one of them when she gets home.
85. I always walked on my toes as a kid. Sometimes I still do.
86. I love organizing cupboards/pantries/desks/etc.
87. It takes me a really long time to fall asleep at night.
88. I lived in the same neighborhood my whole life until senior year of high school.
89. Then I realized I really like moving and trying out new places.
90. I'm excited to find out where I'll move in August.
91. I obsessively floss/whiten/brush/listerine my teeth.
92. I am incredibly attracted to both intelligence and humor.
93. My first kiss was on the fourth of July when I was 16.
94. It's really hard for me to admit when somebody has hurt me.
95. I don't really like talking on the phone. I still do it a lot, because I have friends and family all over the country, and it's the only way I can talk to them.
96. I'm obsessed with email.
97. I sign up for the YOU COULD BE AN INSTANT WINNER!!!! popups, just in case I might win.
98. I never win.
99. I love telling people about my dreams.
100. I sometimes alter stories to make them funnier.

snail mail fail

i didn't get any mail today. again. for the second time THIS WEEK. very sad. i love mail. even more than i love email, and trust me, email is my greatest companion these days. no matter what i'm doing, rest assured that there will be a computer, with functioning internet capabilities nearby. so that i can reward myself every time i accomplish something. finish a paragraph in my book? check email. finish a homework problem? check email. eat a piece of toast? check email. it's really a pretty fabulous system. i can respond to almost any email within 30 minutes, thereby increasing the number of emails that i will receive. and, occasionally, i can catch someone while they're still emailing, and write back and forth, back and forth. not quite as quick as im, but way more fun. i had a full 30-minute conversation with my missionary sister this way. which almost made up for the fact that i spent 70% of our christmas phone conversation convincing her i was not marrying two men whom i'm not even dating. almost.

but back to my dilemma. snail mail. nobody uses it anymore! what with all of the e-cards, e-mail, e-vites, e-bills, there's really no need to actually send a piece of paper to anyone. but i still check every day, just in case. because you never know when someone might come through for me.

i'm getting married!

well, that's what my family thinks anyway. According to my mom, this is my year. She just knows it. Who she thinks I'm going to marry is beyond me. But it's going to happen. Next Christmas, to be exact. And I spent 7 minutes of my ten-minute Christmas phone conversation convincing my missionary sister that yes, I remember I pinky swore that I wouldn't get married while she was gone, and no, I am not going to marry ______ or ______, so she need not worry. She should have known that if she had to ask about two separate men, I couldn't possibly be serious enough with either one to justify marriage. I know I'm a total sucker when it comes to charm and romance, but I'm not that dumb.

Now, I'm not one to get really excited about the bouquet toss at weddings. Well, I pretend not to, anyway. Although secretly, it's my absolute favorite part of most receptions. So, at last month's wedding, I fulfilled my obligation as a single woman and stood in the crowd of girls all prepared to claw each other for the chance to grab at the much-coveted bouquet. I had already made a complete and total fool of myself with my Napoleon Dynamite-style dance routine (which, by the way, left my entire family in tears from uncontrollable laughter, and earned me $15 from my brother-in-law, who didn't think I'd have the guts to put on such a performance.) So I stood on the periphery of the group, prepared to watch everyone else make a fool of themselves. My mom had other plans. She cheered from the sidelines and coached the bride to ensure that I would be the one to catch the bouquet. It worked. The flowers hit me right smack in the face. Hard. Who knew a bundle of plants could be so heavy?

So, you're all invited to my wedding next December. Potential grooms should send in their resume as soon as possible.

who knew...

that scarves were actually functional. I always thought they were purely for fashion. I also thought (very mistakenly) that I could survive without a coat if I didn't have one that went well with my outfit. I never in my life thought that warmth could ever win out over style. Don't I feel dumb.

Church was cancelled yesterday because of snow. SNOW! And below-zero-degree weather. I think I might die.

she laughed at me

I accidentally left my (pink) purse in my class today. My (male) professor very kindly carried my (pink) purse to the aerospace engineering office to leave, safely guarded, in the hands of the receptionist until I picked it up. I walked in, smiled kindly at the receptionist lady, and asked if I could please have my purse back.

her: Um, could you identify it for me?
me: Sure! It's pink.
her: (with a smirk) haha! it sure is.

Haha? Now, was that really necessary? I probably should have told this woman that my purse was black, since pink is the new black (or so says the rumor). But that would have just confused her, and then she never would have given me my purse, despite the fact that it had my drivers license with my picture in it. Now, I'm not seriously upset with receptionist lady. She's not exactly young and hip, so it's not her fault she hadn't heard the rumor that pink is the new black. Add, admittedly, the purse is very pink. Maybe even obnoxiously pink. But I love it nonetheless.

the countdown is on...

yup, that's right. only 24 days until my absolute favorite holiday... VALENTINES DAY! I mean, seriously, who could not love this holiday? It's a great excuse to wear pink (not that I never need an excuse to wear pink, but still...). And besides that, there's love in the air, so much joy and happiness floating around.

Now, lets get something straight here. I don't have a boyfriend, nor have I ever had a boyfriend with whom to share a romantic candle-lit dinner on this most beautiful of all days. But I still love February 14. In fact, I love it BECAUSE I'm single. I'm convinced that it just won't be the same after I'm married. I mean, since my husband is going to treat me like a princess every day, constantly buying me flowers for no reason, Valentine's day will no longer be anything special. (Hey, a girl can dream, right?) So I'm enjoying them while I'm young and free. Because the real beauty of valentines day is not having somebody who loves you, but rather the possibility that you have a secret admirer out there somewhere. It's the anticipation I love.

Here's how a typical Valentines day goes for me:

1 week prior: mail valentines cards to all of my friends. be sure to include a comment about valentines day being my favorite holiday. this way, friends will still have time to send me a valentines card, resulting in a feeling of warm fuzziness.

5:00 am: wake up and check outside my door to see if my potential secret admirer has left a rose for me. because all good secret admirers know to leave the rose late the night before, so that admired girl will find it waiting for her when she wakes up.

5:05 am: go back to sleep until 11:00, then check again. because, although all really good secret admirers know to leave the rose the night before, sometimes there are holdups. and, yes, sleeping until 11:00 is necessary. that leaves secret admirer plenty of time to rush to a flower shop, find the perfect flower, and deliver it to my doorstep.

2:00 pm: check the mail. maybe said secret admirer has slipped the note in my mailbox. or maybe i have a long-distance admirer. find instead a package from my mom, which includes a very cute new outfit, candy, and a pink stuffed poodle.

6:00 pm: dinner with friends. make sure the porch light is off, just in case secret admirer is trying to deliver secret note and flowers while i'm not home.

6:30 pm: check door again, just in case secret admirer is a little late. hey, i'm not picky.

8:00 pm: try on new outfit from mom, call her to thank her for the gift, and make a paper chain counting down the days until next year's best day of the year.


Now, there are some strict rules for an ideal valentines day.
rule #1: Secret admirer is not allowed to reveal his identity, thus leaving me with a glimmer of hope that said secret admirer is my latest crush. (exception: if secret admirer actually is my latest crush, he is then allowed to reveal his true identity and confess his undying love for me.)

okay, so maybe there's only one rule that really needs to be followed. but it's an important one, that's for sure. Have you made your paper chain yet?

dreaming to life

Okay, there's something I have to admit. I'm always daydreaming. Even while I'm sitting in class, doing a great job of pretending to pay attention, writing down everything the professor says, I'm daydreaming. Replaying in my mind past events, imagining upcoming meetings and future encounters. But with all the daydreaming I've done in my life, I've never been able to dream in pictures. My thoughts always come as conversations, discussions, so I'm never alone. Ever. No matter how personal, how tragic, how emotionally invested my surmises, I'm always discussing them with a loved one, baring my soul to them. And hearing their response, feeling their comfort.

Maybe this is why I falter every time I try to talk about my emotions. Because I've reviewed over and over the response I want, so I rarely get it. I forget that they're listening and caring, and that's good enough.