Hey Girl, That’s NOT a Dress http://thebestmemes.tinybytes.me/hey-girl-that-s-not-a-dress
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening — Robert Frost
My idea of flirting is making fun of each other until one of us fucks up and says something nice.
So I haven’t posted here in a long time, much less written an actual blog post.
But fuck, I’m going to be a senior. What the fuuuuuuuck where the fuuuuuuxk did the time go??? I was running with the new sophomores on the team today (being a great captain and shit) and they were so young. Like, they seemed so different. It doesn’t seem like that long ago that I was in band drill over the summer learning how to march. When I looked up to the flute section helper with admiration and the highest form of respect (love), and it had only been three days. She seemed so old and so mature, I never even dreamed that I would ever be her age. The XC seniors when I was a freshman were so cool and casual, they seemed this unattainable age that I didn’t want to become, because I’m the type of person who always needs guidance, and they were awesome with any form of advice you could imagine. I remember giving off a “freshman vibe” to the sassy senior girl with the ripped up baggy jeans, while I pranced around in my skintight little Hollister dress with my knee high UGG boots. The coolest feeling in the world was sitting on the tables outside in the courtyard during lunch with a group of ten/fifteen-on-a-good-day friends, bragging about the freedom to walk around the school during our 45 min lunch period, 15 more than we’ve ever had. Freshman year the boy I absolutely have the hugest crush on now had just met me. He had made it obvious that he liked me, and I didn’t take the shot- I thought I had someone better coming my way. Didn’t know who, I just knew he was better for me.
Now I sit with two or three friends, and never in the courtyard (the AP bio students dissect there, gross). The boy who used to try so hard to hide his crush on me has moved way on. A pretty blond girl with the curves of a racetrack that I will never match up to. I donated my old denim minis and Abercrombie babydolls. I wear riding boots from Bloomingdales now. I’m so excited to be a senior, yet, I remember being so excited to be a freshman. I remember all those times in 8th grade, when I’d purposely sit next to the marching band, because they sounded beautiful. I couldn’t wait to be holding a flute up in the “reserved section”. I absolutely loved freshman year, and I would go back and relive it again and again. Four years ago, I never thought those college app statuses would ever apply to me. Yet here I am.
I remember crystal clear the frozen air when I was down on the field marching during the football games. I remember, a year and a half after that, the two Harvard girls yelling “SECOND SEMESTER SENIORS!!!!” after midterms, like it was yesterday. And a year and a half after that, I remember using our binoculars to look for the cute sailor boys on passing boats cruising back from our APES field trip, because we’ve already seen enough birds to last a lifetime. High school seems to tedious day to day, but looking back, I can not believe its been four years. That went by too fast. I wish senior year lasted forever, but it won’t. I’ll be dorming in Dickinson or UNC or Penn State or Michigan faster than an iPhone battery.
Rolanda, this is the past you, reminding you to live it up, and love every moment, because this is your last shot. For everyone reading this, have a great year, and enjoy your life, because life is amazing, and it’s too short for anything fun.
maybe hot pockets want to be called beautiful pockets sometimes