Just once I knew what life was for. In Athens, quite suddenly, I understood

"It's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday." -American Beauty I felt like that today. Up there, that quote. I wish I had a funny story to tell today, but as it is, all of my funny stories are about boys and I don't want to come off as an eighth grade girl at the moment. Even though I totally am. So this one is serious. Feel free to stop reading, but please don't, because I am showing you how multi-faceted I am. Like Loreal Feria hair color commercials. Anyway, yesterday was just a great day. I woke up and it was chilly outside and I wore jeans and a light sweater. I love fall. I love fall, David says it's because it's nostalgic. He says it's because of Halloween and Thanksgiving and the memories and all that. He says it's the way it smells. He's probably right. I don't know why, and for too many reasons to list, I love fall. I also love David. He is a good dude. It was the first real fall day of Athens yesterday and it was just such a good day, all day long. There was a light, chilly breeze that blew my hair around my face all day. It smelled cold. It smelled fresh. I could take deep breaths and fill my lungs and I could feel the burn of coldness and it was so good. I walked around and did my usual things and... just everything went right that day. My classes were good and I just could not stop smiling. And smiling is so great, because it's so responsive. Everyone smiles back at a smiling person. I'm going to do it more. It does a body good. Anyway, after my classes and everything, I got a delicious smoothie with Rachel and met an old friend who I haven't seen in two years. Serendipity. Rachel had to go to a class, and all of a sudden I was alone with my smoothie on North Campus and I felt that feeling. The feeling from the quote. I was walking and it was quiet because not many people were out. The sun was almost setting but not quite, so it was still light outside but not as bright. It was like someone had draped an auburn sheet of cellophane over the world and the light filtered through the trees and the wind was tickling around the leaves and all you could hear was rustling. Not many people were out, and those who were were reading and enjoying the quietude. It felt like a gray area, an in between time, an almost. I felt like a privately chosen lucky winner who was allowed to experience this quiet time, this almost place. And then, I took a deep breath and I looked at the pretty-ness and the colors and listened to the rustling and I felt so good. Like I was a part of the universe and the universe was a part of me and I was where I belonged, in my purple sweater and my dark wash jeans, sipping my Pink Lady , crunching on the gravel sidewalk, and just breathing. There is a bliss in solitude, seeking upon that inward eye, and then when you are alone and completely in yourself, you realize some things. I've lost it since the moment passed, but I realized something. It calmed me down. I don't know what it was, but I still have it somewhere. Maybe it's just waiting to come out for the right time, for another almost time. I've learned that you shouldn't go after things all crazy-like and desperate. I still believe that you shouldn't be afraid to go after whatever makes you happy because life happens once, but I think I've realized...sometimes the best things just fall into your lap. You don't have to look or try, because they're waiting for you. Maybe it's a person or an opportunity or five dollars on the ground. The best things are surprises, sometimes. Let life happen. Keep calm and carry on. Don't try to solve all of her mysteries, because there is magic in the mystery. The mystery is the magic. You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday. Just once I knew what life was for. In Boston, quite suddenly, I understood; walked there along the Charles River, watched the lights copying themselves, all neoned and strobe-hearted, opening their mouths as wide as opera singers; counted the stars, my little campaigners, my scar daisies, and knew that I walked my love on the night green side of it and cried my heart to the eastbound cars and cried my heart to the westbound cars and took my truth across a small humped bridge and hurried my truth, the charm of it, home and hoarded these constants into morning only to find them gone. -Anne Sexton

The one with the boys in the kitchen.

Abby is a girl. Abby lives on my hall. She's the best. Also, she is country southern out the wazoo.
Abby hates ballogy. Not biology, but ballogy. That's how southern she is.
This is a story about Abby and her lady parts.
Interested?
I figured. You dirty, dirty people.

On our hall, we like to try on each other's clothes all the time. Probably the very best part about dorm life, after the bonding and all that ish, is that your wardrobe multiplies enormously. (I look so fly everyday wearing not my clothes and accessories.)

One night, Abby was in my room trying on my clothes.

Abby is about a foot taller than me and she decided to try on a lace mini skirt that I have which is too short on me...so on her it's pretty much not even underwear. It's black lace and it's as skankalicious as all get out, but I usually choose to wear it in a classy fashion. Anyway, so Abby has on this tiny tiny tiny barely there black lace skirt and she pairs it with a lace top that I own which is supposed to be worn over something, but Abby decided to wear it with nothing under. Nothing.
Like OH HEY THERE ABBY'S BOOBS! nothing.
 And she decides this outfit is not complete without her 4-inch black patent leather stripper pumps. It's ok because we're all girls and yadda yadda, and Abby decides to strut around our floor with her best "lady of the night" strut and making passes at us because---as she said, "to prepare for my future, y'all." And it was funny and she was (scarily) good at it.

A key point of interest to note is that Abby is literally almost naked. No.  I lie.
Abby is naked. Worse than naked, she's naked with lace.
 It's fancy naked, like naked with raisins in it.
She walks past the kitchen on our floor to go show her roommate her outfit and then all of a sudden---

SLAM! She's suddenly running back, at like 80 miles per hour, full speed down the hall, covering herself (or trying to), shrieking "THERE'S BOYS IN THE KITCHEN! THERE'S BOYS IN THE KITCHEN."

I laughed for way too long. You probably aren't laughing like I did. But it was really funny.

Several boys were scarred (scarred or maybe utterly delighted?) that night. I think there's a Fallout Boy song about it. It's called "Thanks for the Mammaries."

HA.

Don't pretend like that wasn't a good joke and perhaps made this whole entry worth reading.

In other news, I fell backwards down a long flight of stairs and a boy caught me from behind, honey moon style. It was way too romantic for real life so I went for it.

A True Story: 
Uzma: Oh my gosh! Thanks! You saved me! Will you marry me?!?!
Savior: ...No. pats head, and sets Uzma down and goes his merry way.

It's ok. He was wearing a graphic tee anyway. And not the cool, ironic, hipster kind.
I don't need him.

In which I am a major creeper and suffer the consequences, Or "Welcome to college!"

So, I have this class. It's like eight girls and we read Jane Austen. It would be eight girls. In any case, it's my first class of college. Ever. This is a freaking big deal, my friends. 

In any case, the next day, this BOY adds the class. 

And look. I live in an all girls dorm, due to being shafted by university housing. And my first class is an ALL GIRLS class due to boys not especially enjoying British Literature after 1800. And my school has a 60/40 girl to guy ratio. So, I'm like, hey, a boy. IT'S GAME TIME. 

Am I right? 

You would do it, too. Don't front. 

I digress. So, he says his name to the class at large. And of course I do what every red blooded American girl with internet access does. I go home and look him up on Facebook. 

You know, so I can check out what bands he likes and what movies he's seen recently in order to drop a name and pull this scenario:

Next class:

Uzma: Oops, I left my iTunes on! Now, everyone knows I LOOOVE The Smiths. 

Boy: ME TOO!

Uzma: Wow, no way! We have SOOO much in common.

Boy: Let's get married.

Uzma: Deal!

Meanwhile, back in reality, I'm still creeping. Like CREEPING. The kind of creeping you do when you're bored out of your mind and you're listening to music and before you know it, you're on Tagged Picture 298 of 567, Senior Prom, and you're admiring this guy's yellow vest and tie to match his date's yellow dress. Calla lilly corsage, very classy. WAY better than the dumb baby roses. Oh, there's the typical "Oh, Mom, help me pin the boutonnierre picture, I can't do it"  Wait, I digress...again. 

ANYWAY, so I'm just creeping pictures, listening to Ben Folds, creeping away, because NO ONE CAN SEE ME. And, somehow that makes it ok. (Sidenote: What would you do if you knew you'd never get caught? How far would you get it? Ethics, Holla!) Anyway, I'm creeping along and WOW, HE HAS A BLOG. Which, inspired this one, in fact! 

So I'm on his blog, and I'm reading it, it's like SUPER interesting. So I read it, and boy, do I read it hard. Like, wow Christmas 2008 was so interesting hard. Yeah. Don't judge because you know you do it. 

Now it's late, and I'm tired. So I close my laptop and settle in for bed. The next morning is class! 

I walk in and this guy is like "Hey!" and introduces himself. And I reply "Oh, HEY!" and introduce myself. 

In my head I am thinking about how I know everything there is to know about this fellow. 

We exchange some pleasantries and he compliments my laptop and I smugly open it and type in my password. Note that he is looking at my laptop. 

The "Welcome" screen fades away, and up pops....yes. HIS. BLOG. 

The blog of the boy who seemingly just met me. Not only is it his blog, it is scrolled WAY DOWN to a few years ago. Oh. My. God. 

Immediately I close out of the window, however, GUESS WHAT? Right under that is FREAKING  picture 298 of 567, Senior Prom. 

I wanted to die. 

This is how I made it ok: 

 

I put my hands up like I was under arrest and I yell "LOOK, I WAS CREEPING, OK! EVERYONE DOES IT BUT I GOT CAUGHT." 

Luckily, he was a good dude. A chill bro, and did not make it worse and was gracious and now everything is ok and we're bffls. 

But still, FML worthy? 

Totes Mcgotes. 

The end.