New Years Resolution

In just a couple of weeks the internet is going to explode with blogs about everyone's NYRs. (Yes, that's an abbrev. Get over it.) Page after page on diets and post after post on exercise and keeping the house clean and not biting your nails, and if you're my roommate, not sexting. She is the only person I have ever met to completely follow through on a NYR, and its a good thing too...if you know what I'm saying!

But my resolution this year is different. I stole the idea from some trash magazine at the gym one day (don't judge...how are you supposed to work out on a solitary machine for a half hour without dying from boredom? i'll tell you, it can't be done. hence, trash magazines). This year, I am picking a word and I am going to try to be/do/become that word throughout the year.

Words I have considered (and the reasons they were discarded):

1. sexy (please, I've dedicated my whole life to embodying that word... I need a challenge)

2. hungry (I mean let's face it, that's really what everyone else's resolutions are all about. but I gots to eat. and eat a lot. so that one just isn't going to make the cut)

3. wise (boring.. I'm trying to enjoy being young and dumb. D-U-M dum.)

4. sober (nah.)

5. Witty (have you read my blog? see explanation from #1)

My word for 2012 is...dumdadadum...

BOLD

I want to take every opportunity given to me (no matter what it is), be courageous, be adventurous, RUN outside of my comfort zone, try new things, share the gospel fearlessly and shamelessly, be crazy and foolish and ridiculous and young. I want to live boldly.

So there you have it folks...my NYR. A whole month before the rest of the world even starts thinking about what goal they can set and plan to fail at in a matter of weeks. Talk about ambition.

**Number 4 was a joke. Just in case my parents read this. Gottem'!

Every Girl is a Princess

I live on a rather large quad. My dorm is on one end and I have some friends that live diagonal from me on the other. We've decided that our "quad" is really a castle. We live in different wings with a courtyard in between. So, a few nights ago, Ellen, Mary, and I (we all live in the same dorm--the East Wing) decided to dress up like princesses and walk through the courtyard to "air out our dresses" while speaking in British accents -- as any lady would-- and standing tall in perfect princess posture. (we took our lessons from the Princess Diaries.) We waved to the peasants that walked past us and went to venture through some of the vegetation (in a very lady like way of course) in search of pebbles to throw at our fellow princesses' windows across the courtyard. After some interesting conversations with some service men (where we continued to speak in a British accent and talk as if we were really princesses) and some really strange looks from other students returning to their dorms from a long night of studying in the library (how lame...you're in college. i mean for real.) we managed to rustle up some stones. The other princesses were so happy to see us and invited us into their wing of the castle. And we all lived happily ever after.

Now, let me just paint you a little picture here. These are just a few of the things that occurred on this outing:

1. I was wearing a long night gown (which is supposed to be my Halloween costume this year), Ellen was in a princess prom dress, and Mary was in a long cotton dress. We all had on heels or cowboy boots. (I looked more like grandma down on the farm than a princess, but since we all wore tiaras, it was clear. I think.)

2. I tripped (hard) over my cowboy boots while walking the courtyard. Very lady like let me assure you.

3. We nearly broke a window with our pebbles. Who says princesses aren't strong?

4. When a boy walked past us in the West Wing (the other dorm) I said "Thank you for being here today" and gave a good Princess Mia wave. Mary said, "You're welcome to look."

Definitely princess material.

Post Secret

Ok, so my recent addiction has been Post Secret. If you don't know what it is, look it up because it's awesome. Some of the secrets are heart breaking, some are sweet, some are hilarious, and some are encouraging. (and some are just plain gross, but just skip those!)

This week I have been reminded just how much I have been blessed by the people in my life. I have the very best friends in the world and I couldn't be more grateful.

I worry a lot, especially about leaving things behind, and about being left behind. My encouragement came in the form of a Post Secret this week:

"Sometimes you lose the good things in life to make room for the great ones."

My friends, my family, UNC, RUF, YoPo, beautiful weather, an extended Easter break...these are my great things. Jesus...he is the one thing I will never lose, because there is nothing greater to make room for.

The ULTIMATE Assassin

I wish I could tell you it was me.

For the past 4 weeks RUF has been playing this super awesome amazing game called assassins. Basically you have a target and a hunter. You're hunter is trying to kill you, you're trying to kill your target.

For the first 4 days I walked around completely paranoid: hood up, taking different routes to classes, not going to the library to study, I even found a third dining hall on campus so I wouldn't have to go to the main ones...it was a little ridiculous, but also SUPER INTENSE! Also, in those first 4 days, I made 3 kills. That's right, I was well on my way to becoming the ultimate assassin.

The following are my kill stories (I admit, some are better than others):

Assassination #1

The time was 21:23:14. Crouched behind a black SUV, wet and dripping from the rain, weapon in hand, I waited. My breath even, my heart keeping a steady beat--a true assassin.  As the headlights illuminated the parking lot of the Beta house, I waited as my target got out of his car and began to walk inside.  Then, still out of sight, I bolted across the parking lot, quick as lightning, somersaulting behind cars and army crawling under engines, my target naive and feeling secure. As he approached the door and began to unlock it, I leapt from behind the final car, flung myself into a back handspring--silent like a ninja--and in one skillful landing motion, retrieved my weapon and sprung into the house behind him.  In the same instant, I swung my shiv-carved water transport device with perfect aim, the lethal liquid penetrating his chest--a direct assassination to the heart. Blood began to pour, people began to scream, the house transformed into a state of frenzied chaos.  My unsuspecting victim, dead--a look of fear and shock still frozen on his face as he hit the floor.    Target eliminated. 

 Harrison Holbrook--dances with Jesus 2/24/2011 21:23:14 

Assassination #2

A group of young UNC students were having a s'mores bonfire on Sunday evening when the assassination took place.  The survivors were horrified, a wave of fear is seizing the campus.  A young freshman, one Diana Castano, was assassinated while making a s'more.  Her assassin, who officials believe to be the STJ (send them to Jesus) Killer, allegedly discovered the group's plan to have a bonfire through the social networking site many young people are using these days known as Facebook.  Once the target's location had been affirmed, the STJ Killer stalked through the grave yard coming up behind the unsuspecting students.  After some incredibly intense army crawling, clearly learned through extensive military training, the STJ killer stood up and shot Diana from an incredible distance with perfect aim--a true assassin.  Witnesses saw only minor details, and police only suspect the work of the STJ killer, though they have yet to discover a pattern or cause for the assassinations. So, students of Carolina, take caution, the STJ Killer is still on the loose, and could be coming for YOU.  

Diana Castano: dances with Jesus 2/27/2011 21:06:33

Assassination #3

Roses are red 

Violets are blue 

I waited for 4 hours to assassinate you... 

 ...ok so really like an hour...but it felt like 4... and it was worth every painfully long second. 

Ian Helfrich: dances with Jesus 2/28/11 10:40:38

Assassination #4

It was a last second tip, but the roommate's betrayal was made complete with a text message declaring the target on the move.  As I raced down the path, I saw him approaching.  Unsuspecting, he started to wave hello, only to be drenched with a water grenade, the remnants splattering my accomplice at his side as well.  It was a sad moment, but a triumphant last second victory for the one true assassin--ME.  

Zach Miller: dances with Jesus 15:03:43 March 16, 2011  

It was this past Thursday--that fateful day--when I was completely blindsided by one of my dearest friends.  She assassinated me in the library, and I must give her credit for stealth.  Luckily, she went on to win the game, so my pride isn't too hurt. Haha.

The one downside to losing was that Mary and I didn't get to carry out our ridiculously genius plan to dominate the game.  We had a roommate pact--it was unbreakable.  As soon as one of us got the other as a target, we immediately became a team, eating away at both ends of the chain (hunting one person's hunter and the other's target) until we were the only two remaining.  We then planned a double suicide--each of us shooting each other at the exact same time--both becoming champions of the game. A true team.

But alas, it was not to be.  
Congratulations Sarah on becoming the ultimate assassin.  Well played my friend.

Life Recap

So my life update from the last few weeks:

I went to Cadillac Ranch with some of my best friends and my dad. The Ranch is a country bar with a TON of awesome country music and line dancing, and my personal fave--the two step. I know what you're thinking...why would I go to a country bar with my dad? Well, the truth is, it has been a love of his for a long time, and when I turned 18 it finally became something we could enjoy together. I don't want to brag on him too much, but that man can flat out DANCE. And to be honest, the Ranch is one of the things I've missed most since being away at college. I can't even really explain it. But dancing with my dad to country music...it's one of my favorite things in the world. I love how it feels to just be swept up in the song and twirled around and around--even when I mess up--there's something so fun and exciting and comfortable about being led by my dad around a dance floor wearing cowboy boots and listening to the music I grew up on. It was amazing getting to share the Ranch experience with my friends too. We met some rodeo cowboys/army boys who were absolutely hilarious! We had so much fun and I think they started to understand what I love about it so much. Love me some honky tonkin'!

Last week was my birthday. On Friday night, my friends and I had planned to go out to dinner on Franklin Street, but as I was walking there with Mary, Lea, and Greg, I was suddenly attacked, blindfolded, hands tied behind my back. I hear Mary screaming, "SAVE YOURSELVES" and suddenly I'm being pushed into a car. Claire de Lune starts blasting, my kidnappers haven't said a word...just a few grunts as instructions. We drive a while and then all of a sudden I'm being yanked out of the car and pulled into the woods. Still blindfolded, they sit me on a bail of straw (it was really prickly...that's the only way I knew what it was) and started poking me and pinching me and running sticks up and down my arms and legs, throwing leaves at me, grunting, chanting in deep disguised voice, and running around me. Then, I'm given a clue that says in order to be freed I have to do a ton of embarrassing things and have them recorded. Basically, I spent the rest of the night doing the following:

1. Singing/doing the hokey pokey in the Pit in front of everyone (including apparently a security guard)

2. Searching on my hands and knees (still blindfolded) for a loose brick in the Pit (which for those who don't know is made out of bricks...completely)

3. Going up to the 8th floor of Davis library with a creepy professor/possible-homeless-man

4. Asking some middle school boys for their numbers on Franklin...being told that doesn't count because I told them it was for a game...and then asking out a random unsuspecting ginger boy in Subway on Franklin

5. Giving a slightly inappropriate campus tour

6. Being told that although the hunt was over, the rest of the night had much more embarrassing things to come and that I was eventually going to end up in Durham, but first I had to visit the kidnappers' "lair" where they were going to get supplies for the rest of the night.

7. Once in the "lair" my blindfold was ripped off and I found myself in a room full of my best friends yelling SURPRISE!!!! Mary Blonshine, you outdid yourself.

It was an amazing birthday and I really couldn't have asked for more. Thanks to everyone who made me feel so special on my 19th birthday. It's one for the books!

Special shout-out to the best roommate in the world. I don't deserve you!!! I love you.

BFFAEAEAE!

Last Friday, I was walking down the path to Ramshead and I looked up and saw this older guy with dark glasses and a hat walking with a buddy. I didn't think anything of him at first, but when I looked back I realized it was Roy Williams...and he was looking right at me. He smiled and said, "Hello."

Startled and starstruck (he said hello first!!!) I said, "Hi."

And that is how Roy Williams and I became best friends.

Planning lives, getting famous...all in a day's work.

Last Tuesday night I went to the basketball game in the Dean Dome with Mary, where my very talented Tar Heels beat Clemson for the 54th time. Never has Clemson beaten the Tar Heels at home. AWESOME!

Best parts of the night:
1. Mary and I played MASH since we had Phase 1 tickets and therefore had 1 1/2 hours to kill.

Let's just say Mary ended up marrying Squirttle while I became the lucky wife of Cam Gigandet.

But in all fairness our oldest son did grow up to become a gay stripper. Oh well. You win some, you lose some.

2. Mary decided at one point before the game began to move her arm band up to her bicep and try to pop it off by flexing. Cool! Well apparently the camera men have a bet going to see who can find the dumbest people in the crowd and put their idiocy on the big screen, on display for the whole world to see. In this case, it meant that Mary and I went up on the big screen.

My point: I'm married to one of the most attractive men alive and I'm famous. Clearly. My life is complete.

Boys...explained

"What is the matter with men?"
"Okay, first off, we are told to stop crying by the age of, like, 3, and then every time an adult male leaves the house, he says, "you're in charge," but your mom's still cutting the crust off your bread, so deep down inside, you know you can't possibly be in charge, 'cause you can't even make a sandwich. Then at a certain point, you start to notice girls who aren't your mom, and you want them to like you, you know, but they don't usually go for the normal social cues such as being tackled to the ground so then you decide to give her a gift, but she laughs at the rock you brought her, even though it's the coolest rock you ever saw and it has all kinds of glittery stuff on it. Anyway, let's just assume for a minute that you work your way through that minefield and you actually get a woman to notice you. Then what happens? Your guy friends turn on you, they start calling you names...But we know we would die in a ditch without women, so we keep trying. "

Convos With Rooms

A conversation I had with my roomate today:

Me: "A burrito and a yogurt. What a good dinner."

Mary: "You're gonna get diarrhea."

Me: "What?"

Mary: "A burrito...that's beans. And yogurt is dairy. You're gonna get diarrhea."

Me: "Dairy doesn't give you diarrhea. If anything it stops you up."

Mary: "Really?"

Me: "Eating too much cheese will give you constipation. Truth. It's happened to me."

Mary: "...that must be why I never pooped until I came to college."

Kids Do the Darndest Things

Children think weirdly. I somtimes wish that we all thought so simply--life would be way less complicated. But as it is, we all grow up and lose our innocence, our naivity. We start to think about serious things like how to pay rent and buy groceries, making sure our car has been inspected, that we have health insurance, that tuition is paid on time. But sometimes I wish I could go back to being a kid--when ignorance was truly bliss. Sometimes. Then there are days like today when I am so thankful to have a little common sense.

I'm in Honduras visiting a friend of mine who is going to be a missionary here. One of the other missionary families here has four kids; one of them is seven years old and I think he's a few fries short of a Happy Meal if you know what I mean. Today at their house, he was running around flinging this goopy, sticky, dirty blob (which I think used to be some sort of identifiable figure) at the walls and watching it stick and then slowly peel off as gravity took its toll. I was sitting on the couch talking, when out of nowhere the goopy, sticky, dirty blob comes flying across the room and slaps me in the face. I laughed a little, thinking it had been an accident and handed it back to him, only to have him wind up and fling it at my face once again. After two or three of these gloppy beatings, I grabbed the blob and chucked it at the wall--hard--so that it was stuck just out of his reach. Take that you little tyke.

Later, we were getting ready to eat, and he had torn a piece of his styrofoam plate off accidently. He tried to give the piece to his mom, but she shook her head and told him to throw it away himself. He looked at her, looked at the piece, shrugged, and then proceeded to eat the styrofoam. Now, I didn't grow up with brothers, but I'm pretty sure this is typical 7 year old boy behavior. Better to eat it then walk across the room and do what you were told. (His mom pulled the piece out of his mouth and disposed of it--no worries) When I looked back at him a few seconds later, he'd torn off another piece and began chewing. Like I said earlier, a few fries short of a Happy Meal.

Yes, today I am very glad that I have enough common sense to not eat my styrofoam plate and throw globs of nastyness at other people's heads.