Today I woke up sometime after 1 pm to my beagle barking up a storm. This is a new phase for her because before these barking escapades started, she would merely sleep all day without a care in the world. When I went upstairs to see what all the fuss was about, she was on the couch, shaking her tail with a guilty glare in her eyes. It's cool how she knows when she's in trouble because Shawna knows she isn't supposed to be on the couch, and she knows I find it annoying if she barks nonstop or at least to wake me up from a really weird dream. And then when I had to vacuum the house, I tried to lure her into the kitchen with a doggie toy because she's scared of the vacuum cleaner, but it was to no avail because she refused to remain blinded in the kitchen when there was a scary monster in the living room. Now she is laying under my blanket in my room as I type this.
There is one extremely disappointing thing about college: it is impossible to wear heels. Well, not impossible, but for me, it kills my feet. Especially wedges. I wore wedges a few times at the beginning of the year, and the blisters would be so severe I'd walk something like how Ann from Top Model chooses to walk: very ungracefully. It was enough for my new friend Laura to pick up on it and make fun of me for it, causing my other new friends to chime in with their own version of my walk and bringing it up again and again for the next few weeks. I always prided myself for being able to walk in heels, but I didn't factor in the fact that in high school I was mostly sitting down: the longest trek I had to make was walking to the bus stop. But I hated not being able to wear my heels, and I even put on my character shoes, which were really clicky, something my friend Amanda (and probably everyone else in my Inquiry class) had noticed and playfully pointed out. But even those hurt for some reason: I had to wear these shoes to chorus concerts, and for entire concerts they never hurt me, even though they hurt my friend Rachel. And it wasn't just heels: for reasons unknown to me, even my ballet flats started to hurt: they were cute magenta ones that went perfectly with a skirt, but by the time I made it to Morill Hall for my Journalism class, they killed me. When I got back to my dorm later that afternoon, my feet were a disaster: blisters everywhere! It pained me (both literally and not) to think of not wearing these perfect shoes I've collected over the years. One of the first things my roommates noticed about me was that I had a lot of shoes; I couldn't believe I had to give them up. Luckily for me, boots season was coming up, so I don't have to worry about it so much until the warm Spring comes around sometime in May. April I'll probably be wearing my rain boots all the time. Here's a pair of boots that make me just as tall as my father (who's 6 ft).
Just look at my chosen outfit today: sweat pants, an old t-shirt, and no bra. Granted, I'll probably be changing at least my top half, and I don't plan on going anywhere today, but even Massie Block says there are specific wear you have to choose from on Sundays when you most likely will be IMing your friends all day, and it does not include sweat pants or old t-shirts. My college friends are trying to convince me that I don't have to put on a perfect outfit all the time, but I remain skeptical. In fact, for the first two months of college (at least) I didn't repeat an outfit. Not once. I was tired of repeating my outfits every two weeks in high school, so right before school started I hit my favorite store, Kohls, and spent the equivalent to one and a half pay checks. I thought I deserved after a long summer of hard work, and now look where I am: a poor college student hoping she'll have enough money after purchasing her books to do laundry.
