Fall semester goals.

Fall semester is flying by. I can't believe next weekend is Homecoming (which I am beyond excited for) and that I am in the midst of midterms season. Tomorrow marks the two-month countdown until I am home for winter break. My mom is already telling me, "The end is near!" 

For the most part, I'm trying not to think about the passage of time. What I am thinking about, however, is what I would like to accomplish for the rest of the semester (or aim for). Here are some little (and very big) goals I have for the remainder of 2013:

-Learn how to French braid my hair. 
-Make every day a special occasion--live life to the fullest at that very moment. 
-Send surprise letters and packages to loved ones.
-Skype with my parents on a regular basis--whether it's every week or each month.
-Learn how to bake something new. (Pumpkin Banana Spice Bread, anyone?)
-Say yes to more unexpected dinners, study dates and late-night conversations. 
-Bulk up on basics: plaid shirts, chunky sweaters, and thick tights for winter. 
-Go camping for the first time. In Yosemite. With Kyle. 

Of course, this is only the beginning of what I could hope to accomplish by the end of the year. But for now, I think that's quite enough. 

//image via Kelly Cummings

The little things.

Lately, I have been in love with my weekends. My weekdays seem like they stretch on forever--oftentimes I'm out of my apartment for over 12 hours on the days that I intern. I'm constantly running from place to place. 

Yet when I walk out of my last class on Friday mornings, I couldn't be happier. A weight is lifted from my shoulders, even if I have many obligations to fulfill that weekend--there's just something about knowing that the long week has finally reached its term that's indescribable. 

Those long weekdays have also made me appreciate my weekends more. I treasure the hours that I get to spend lounging around my apartment in the comfiest clothes possible with my roommates. I treasure the extra minutes that I am able to linger in bed, cuddled up under my white sheets and white comforter with the morning light just barely seeping in through my navy curtains. 

What I treasure most, however, are the little things. I love when things turn up unexpectedly, and become something better than you ever imagined. I love when a movie night becomes a night of sharing stories over homemade guacamole. I love when my roommate and I both decide against cooking, and end up going on a date for Italian food and some spontaneous catching up.

Yesterday I called my mom, and we talked about absolutely nothing important for over an hour. I FaceTimed with Kyle before falling asleep. My dad and I exchanged photos of where we were today via text. I ran into my big sis at a walk for autism unexpectedly, and I finally spent time with my little sis after not seeing her all weekend. When I got in the car, my roommate who I hadn't seen all day gave me the biggest hug. 

These are the little things that matter the most. These little things are what put a smile on my face, and remind me just how lucky I am. As I lay in bed on a Sunday night typing this, I couldn't feel any more grateful. But I'm sure I will, and that is what excites me the most.

Happy Monday, all.

//image via bluepueblo.tumblr.com

Alone time.

One thing that I am constantly working on is being alone. In college, it can be easy to fall prey to the worry that if you're not with friends at all times, there's something wrong with you. I've heard stories from my friends (and I must admit, I have done it too) that they would rather stay in their room starving instead of picking up dinner alone. 

At home, it's so much easier for me to feel okay with curling up with a good book and a blanket for the entirety of an afternoon. Yet in college, spending a few hours alone leads to worries that you're missing out. It leads to feelings of uncertainty, and painful pangs of homesickness. 

I fell prey to these feelings all too frequently my freshman year. At my college, students typically live close by, which means that they go home often. I found myself many a weekend with only one or two roommates instead of the usual nine that I had my first year. 

Yet it was this alone time that led me to step outside my comfort zone my freshman year. I got involved with new organizations, and made many more friends. Essentially, finding myself alone led me to find myself surrounded by friends at all times. 

As I've grown older, however, I've also grown to appreciate my alone time. I appreciate having the time and space to simply sit and think. I appreciate stumbling across new places on my past commutes home from New York City--they're like my own secret treasures. 

Being alone doesn't bother me as much as it used to. And I know that it's only going to feel more natural with time. 

Sometimes, all you need is to sit back, take a deep breath and enjoy your own company.

//image via Lara Casey

Take the time.

Lunch yesterday with my dad at CArtHop.

With every moment that passes, I realize more and more that it's the little things that matter the most. Perhaps my most favorite thing in the world is when I can make someone else smile; it doesn't get any better than that. 

Going to college across the country has been nothing short of a humbling experience. I have grown to learn that the most important thing you spend is not money but time. Even if you can only give someone a few moments of your time, it's automatically better than any present you could buy.

Time is irreplaceable. You can't get it back if you wasted it. You must spend it wisely. 

By giving someone a moment of your time, you're showing that you care. You're showing that they mean something to you. You're spreading love, in its most basic form. And I believe that's the greatest thing that we can do in life, spreading love. 

These days, it seems like its increasingly difficult to manage our time. We believe we never have enough, and yet we still find ourselves spending it on things and people that we could care less about. We become so obsessed with reaching a certain goal, or an ideal life, that we lose sight of what has and continues to support us. 

We look ahead instead of looking around us. 

In my final few days of summer on the west coast, I am trying to spend my time wisely--by spreading love. Family and friends come first. They are my heart, my home. The least I can do is give them a moment of my time. 

August.

A week or so ago, I came across the phrase, "August is to summer what Sundays are to the weekend." Nothing has rung so true for me in quite some time. 

Sundays are one of my favorite days of the week--but the feeling of overwhelming dread is also often inevitable after crawling into bed on a Sunday night. Sundays are meant to be long and lazy--a day of enjoyment and a moment to breathe. Sundays are partnered with homemade pancakes and drives to nowhere. Yet Sundays are also the bittersweet signal that ends the rushed weekend. 

August signals the dog days of summer. Somehow, sunsets seem to take just a little longer to fade. There's a bit of sadness about them, like they're trying to warn you that you won't be able to enjoy many more until next year. The days blur together as they become filled with last-minute lunches and family vacations. Summer's end is on the horizon. 

August has become difficult for me. As I try to soak up the last sun-drenched moments of summer, the thought of my inevitable cross-country venture lurks in the back of my mind. Part of me reminds myself of how much I love autumn in New York, how I can't wait to see all my friends again and move into my first apartment. Yet another part of me wants to run in the opposite direction, determined to reach out for one last California sunset with a certain someone by my side. 

August is bittersweet, like so many other things in life. I think that I've grown to appreciate that bittersweet feeling, however. This summer, more than any other, I've learned from those nearest to me that these feelings shouldn't be repressed. There's a time to be happy, and there's a time to be sad. 

Most importantly, now is still the time to be happy. Now is the time to enjoy moments with those that I love the most. It's time to be here. Now. 

Timing is everything.

The notion of time and the invention of the clock are among the most life-changing technologies that humans have developed throughout our short existence. The clock runs our lives. From the minute we are born, we submit ourselves to its fleeting nature. 

Time is both a soothing and anxiety-inducing concept. Humans are creatures of habit and cling to routine. Yet perhaps what we also fear more than anything is the passage of time; the years fly by and we continue to grow ever older. 

I always feel like I'm fighting a constant battle with time. As a student who goes to college 3,000 miles away from her hometown, significant other and her family, there are many late nights where I find myself staring at the countdown app on my iPhone. 

I spend so much time wishing it away, and then the day I return home (or whichever day I am most looking forward to) arrives in a flash. Breaks from school go by quicker and quicker with each passing year. 

I never want to wish my life away. My parents always told me not to rush growing up. Everyone has heard the countless cliches, but never believes them until some form of reality approaches. "It only gets worse from here." 

I suppose the only answer to this constant battle of looking forward to the future but dreading the speed at which time passes is another cliche: live in the present. It's a phrase that is repeated with ease, but is rarely enacted. Time presses us to constantly look forward or backwards. Even when we try to enjoy a moment fully for what it is, there always tends to be something in the back of our minds that distracts us from doing so. 

As I have been trying to live more in the moment this summer, I've realized that you can't escape the minor impending anxieties. You will always be thinking about your upcoming flight back to school, that major paper you have due in a week or a crucial job interview. Living in the present is less about forgetting about your worries or priorities, and more about acceptance of the passage of time. 

Once I accept that time is passing, and that it is passing quickly, I tend to ask myself: why can't I be happy right now? Deadlines will come and go, but there's nothing you can do about it. Why consume your life with thoughts of the future or the past when you could be happy at this very moment? You can decide to act; you can decide to be happy. 

It's hard to say that anyone can ever completely master the act of living in the present. Yet if we come to terms with the fact that time is passing, and that we can't do anything about it, we realize that we ought to take advantage of it.  

(photo by Jamie Beck of Ann Street Studio)