oh hyperbole

casualties of the move

by ameena on July 4, 2012 · 8 comments

in a day in the life, half-baked ideas, life and times of bilbo baggins and mr toad, random musings

A couple of months ago I realized I was being bogged down by everything I own. As I looked at my possessions with the utmost distaste, I could hear Tyler Durden reminding me, “the things you own end up owning you.” And that didn’t sit right with me. I don’t want to be a slave to my IKEA coffee table. I refuse.

As my personal priorities have shifted and I have tried to focus on consuming less, I have also decided it is time to start decluttering my own life and getting rid of most of my posessions. I promised myself that as I prepared to pack up and vacate The Cottage at the end of July, I would try to get rid of as many things as I possibly could. For the most part this process has been surprisingly easy, considering I have often been accused of being ridiculously sentimental. However, even I couldn’t have foreseen how difficult it would be to part with some of my belongings.

I like to refer to these dearest of items as my Casualties of the Move and I would like to ask that you join me as I honor them here.

1. My Junior Prom Dress. (also known as the love of my life)

2006

The second I saw that pale-yellow beauty sitting in the back of my closet I knew it was time. As I delicately removed the plastic covering so that I could try it on one last time, I could feel my heart grow heavy with sadness. Saying goodbye to an old friend is never easy. I couldn’t even adequately express to you why I love that dress so much. If you have to ask, you’ll never know. In fact, I love it so much that three years ago I somehow convinced a group of 20-25 year olds to dust off their old prom dresses and suits just so I could have an excuse to wear my dress one more time. Now that you are safely back in your plastic blanket dear dress, I offer a toast – thanks for the memories old yellow. You will be missed.

2009

2. Fabio.

fabio

Fabio, oh dear Fabio. You always find yourself in the crossfire don’t you? Thank you for always being such a cherished guest at our many affairs. As a parting bit of advice I offer that maybe for your new home you could at least bring a shirt? I mean, I’M NOT COMPLAINING, but sometimes you’re a little intimidating at first when you’re standing there all smoldering and shirtless with your weird chains in your hands, ya know?

3. Baby’s First Lightsaber && Darth Tater and the Spud Troopers.

First of all, someone please name their band “Darth Tater and the Spud Troopers” immediately. I promise I won’t even ask for any royalties. Just like, thank me in your album book thing or whatever.

My lightsaber has been with me since the glory days of my sophomore year of high school. After the midnight showing of Star Wars Episode II, it took residence in my car and there it lived for four years. I often suspect that this is most likely the reason I safely made it to my car so many times. Those mo’ fo’s saw my light saber and knew I must be dangerous. But then one tragic day the batteries died and it has been collecting dust ever since. That’s no life for a light saber, guys. No life at all.

Then there is my band of misfit spuds. I don’t even know what to say about those guys. I guess I just want them to know it isn’t them. It’s me. It’s definitely me.

4. Christmas.

I’m not gonna lie. Parting with my Christmas decorations wasn’t easy, but I know in my heart it was for the best. In the two years that I have lived in this house, the tradition of The Cottage Christmas has always been a favorite of mine. During the past two Decembers you could pretty much count on me spending 80% of every paycheck on any and all Christmas decorations I could get my hands on. But now I fear that Christmas anywhere else just won’t be the same. Also, who needs Christmas decorations when my only plans for Christmas this year involve Mickey’s Very Merry Christmas Party and openly weeping while watching this movie five times AT LEAST:

 

5. The Movies.

This one is too hard. I can’t. Not today.

riddikulus

by ameena on February 17, 2012 · 2 comments

in plight of the twenty-something, real talk

There always comes a point in the midst of the sads in which I finally stop and look at myself. I mean really look at myself. And I laugh. I laugh because at that point what else is there to do but accept how utterly and entirely ridiculous it all is. More specifically, I laugh at how completely ridiculous I have been behaving. Naturally this week was no exception for the laughter because boy was I being ri-dic-u-lous this week, you guys.

Now I am in no way saying that I shouldn’t have been sad, or that my sadness wasn’t in some ways justified, but there was definitely a point in which my sadness evolved in to wallowing. And because I have always had a tendency toward exaggeration, when I wallow – I really wallow. My love of the theatrics has taught me to embrace whatever emotion I am feeling with all of my heart and as a result I can sometimes lose perspective. I forget that things are maybe not as bad as they seem and that perhaps I shouldn’t be taking it all so darn seriously. So I laugh as a reminder. Because if Dumbledore ever taught me anything it is that, “Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

So I finally turned on the light and saw the ladder that was waiting to carry me out of the hole and now I just want to say thank you. Thank you for your kind words and support because they were my first glimmers of light. And also thank you for indulging me while I unabashedly displayed my tendency toward theatrics. To be honest, I have actually been really embarrassed by my last post and I even thought about deleting it because I felt like such a baby, but this is my blog and what kind of space would it be if it weren’t an honest reflection of what I felt in the moment? So I decided to keep it. But I also want you to know I understand just how ridiculous it is.

And now because it has been far too long since I last did this. Here are my Reasons to Smile:

:: I survived my first round of midterms! And I think I did pretty amazing on them. Looks like I will be graduating this semester after all (still crossing my fingers and toes because even though I am a mostly good student, I have this weird feeling this will be the first semester I actually fail a class).
:: Completely rearranging my room. It’s the little things, really.
:: The fact that I will be in Austin, TX in less than 36 hours. I’m so excited to be spending the weekend with some of my favorite bloggers. And also running my SECOND half-marathon. Eeeep!
:: Complaining about The Walking Dead. I really really love to hate this show, you guys.
:: Happy Endings, Up All Night, and Modern Family. If you aren’t watching these shows, you’re doing it wrong. “It” being life. Also, someone please explain to me how I have time for all of the tv I watch.

this day was written and directed by the sads. but don’t worry, it was produced by hyperbole.

by ameena on February 14, 2012 · 1 comment

in plight of the twenty-something, real talk

Today was a particularly awful day. One of those no-good, dirty-rotten, can I please have a do-over sort of days. A day I would have much rather spent in bed buried under the covers not thinking about all of the things threatening to break me. Today the Sads were in the director’s chair.

Blast those pesky sads!

But before I tell you all about this rotten day I feel I ought to inform you that it had absolutely nothing to do with today being Valentine’s Day. Except that maybe I was made all the more sad that the Sads were ruining it. Because did you know I rather like Valentine’s Day? I mean, what is there to hate about a day all about loooove??

In fact, it dawned on me earlier today that of my twenty-three Valentine’s Days, I have been single for twenty-two of them. And the one year I was actually in a relationship during Valentine’s Day, I wrote an embarrassingly angry post all about how much I loathed the holiday. It was entirely unbecoming of a romantic like myself. And I did it all because my boyfriend at the time didn’t possess a single romantic bone in his body and I was so afraid of being disappointed that I convinced myself that the holiday was dumb. The tragedy!

Where was I?

Oh, right.

The Sads.

Except this isn’t even really a post about the Sads. And it definitely isn’t a post about Valentine’s Day. I’m not entirely sure what kind of post it is. I think maybe it is a post about hope.

This afternoon as I was sitting at work trying with all of my might to quell the incoming tears, my coworker smiled at me. I don’t think he had any clue of the turmoil going on inside my head, but it was the exact right kind of smile at the exact right kind of moment and suddenly I found that all of my overwhelming sadness seemed like a manageable burden to bear.

In an instant I felt the fog begin to lift. I was suddenly able to think much clearer and face my sadness full on. I finally realized that for months my frequent run-ins with the Sads have pretty much all been sparked by the same things. And while I am far too afraid to write about these things today, I’m really happy to have fully acknowledged them. I mean, how can I ever be expected to come up with awesome solutions if I never even knew the problem?

I think what this whole rambling, overly dramatic post is trying to say is that even though it might take only one sentence to throw me in to the Sads, it also just takes a simple smile to help me back out.

It’s rather nice to remember that.

my last post regarding finals because heyo, I’M DONE.

by ameena on December 14, 2011 · 4 comments

in random musings

Oh hey you guys, GUESS WHAT! I survived finals week! HAPPY DANCE.

This is really awesome for several reasons:

[one] there was a time in the library where things started to look real bleak and I was worried this would be the finals to finally break me (I maybe sort of say this every finals season (one of the many plights of an exaggerator) (but also – it really really felt true!)).

[two] I have all the free time to do all of the things I have been dying to do since the beginning of time. I am real real excited to finally start writing more real posts (although I rather enjoyed the small ones, too) and to get in to the holiday spirit and start preparing for our epic cocktail party this weekend and to watch a ton of movies and bring back the crafternoons and even do some reading for funsies and see all the pretty lights and maybe even go snowboarding for the first time in my whole entire life and and and it’s gonna be a fantastic winter break, y’all.

[three] you no longer have to put up with me tweeting, talking, and writing about finals. Er, well, starting right……..NOW.

It feels so good to be back. Adios, Fall Semester 2011.

so you say you’re running a half marathon ii

by ameena on July 13, 2011 · 5 comments

in so you say you're a runner

I am no longer allowed to think about running. When I think about running my head begins to hurt from the sudden influx of so many discouraging thoughts. These are not pretty thoughts, my friends. In fact, I would dare say that these thoughts are entirely unbecoming and even downright ugly. The kind of the thoughts that look an awful lot like oh, my poor knees! They cannot possibly make it one more step! and Who is this devious, invisible person stabbing little knives in to my sides?! I don’t deserve this! One cannot go on in these conditions! or even When did breathing get so hard? I think this might be what death feels like. 

These thoughts are enough to stop anyone dead in their tracks and collapse from the immense weight of it all.

Oh, but when I refuse to think about running I am like a free bird! I find that my knees are actually happy because they are running on clouds and that that little prankster abandons his knives in order to tickle my sides in the most encouraging way. And suddenly, suddenly the air seems a whole lot more refreshing.

Because when I don’t think about running, I am falling in love with running all over again.

The key to successfully not thinking about running is to start off with a smile. Sure, you’ll probably freak some people out as you run past them panting and dripping with sweat but hey! you’re having a great time doing it. AmIright? 

Once your smile adequately distracts your brain from the task at hand, your mind is free to wander to the most delightful of places. You begin to notice things on your running trail that couldn’t possibly have been there when death was knocking at your door.

When you’re not thinking about running you notice that the sky is a beautiful painting. It’s almost as if Bob Ross himself swish swish swished his way across the sky with the most brilliant shades of purple and pink. On a really good day he’ll even throw in a rainbow. Your smile grows even wider. Suddenly you notice a spring in your step that wasn’t there before. Hey, those last couple of blocks weren’t so bad after all.

When you’re not thinking about running you forget to pay attention to how many blocks there are between C Street and M street because you are too busy congratulating yourself for choosing to put Key Dollar Sign Hah on shuffle for your running playlist. You secretly wish you had some glitter to toss about the neighborhood.

When you’re not thinking about running you get to laugh at the street with no sidewalks. It is the street with the front yards that go on and on only to be abruptly cut off by a curb. It is quite a sight to behold. But oh! That isn’t even the best part. The best part is the house that is still optimistic that one day it will get a sidewalk. It is the best house in the whole neighborhood with its walkway from the front door that dead-ends in the middle of the yard where are sidewalk ought to live. You ask yourself if the homeowners shovel that dead-end walkway in the winter and desperately hope that they do. You realize that your invisible friend is laughing at the fake walk, too, and you make a mental note to take a picture of it someday.

But most importantly, when you are not thinking about running you are able to run farther than you have ever run before, without any temptation to stop yourself before you reach your fullest potential. You are able to forget that your last couple of runs were terribly difficult and you even find yourself looking forward to the next time your feet hit the pavement.