Do you ever have those moments when you wish you could simply freeze time and just stay in the same spot forever?
Whether we consciously think about this or not, we all have those instances when we yearn for something to continue just as it is, to prolong the future and live in the exact present for eternity. Continue reading
“It’s been so long since last we met…”
While some readers might not get the reference in the opening sentence, I thought that the Georgetown’s Fight Song fit well in these circumstances. Yes, readers, it has been a very long time since last we met.
In my last post, nearly a month and a half ago, I wrote about my gelatin-wrecked vegetarian diet and my resolution to start anew. Since that time much has happened.
Like the fall semester, the spring term has been equally, if not more, busy. Once again taking a full courseload, I am also working my job at school, commuting to an internship and juggling various extracurricular activities. In light of this, I have come to the realization that 24 hours in a day are just not enough. WIth so much on plate, my resolution for weekly blogging became like the decadent dessert calling my name on the counter. Unfortunately, with so much else weighing me down, giving in to the temptation of blogging would have only put me behind on the things I actually needed to do. Continue reading
I love breakfast. I mean, I really love breakfast.
Maybe it is because I oftentimes go to bed late at night with a growling stomach, but I love waking up in the morning and starting my day off right.
But the odd thing about me and my love of breakfast is the fact that I love it for its simplicity, not its extravagance. As an avid cereal lover, I look forward to pouring myself a bowl and washing it down with a cold glass of orange juice. Yes, that’s right, orange juice. Ever since I was little, I have refused to let milk touch my bowl of cereal. No matter whether eating Honey Bunches of Oats, Special K or Cheerios, the cereal is always enjoyed dry. Such choice led to many awkward confrontations with friends’ parents on the mornings after sleepovers…
Only 16 days into the new year and already I have failed.
Earlier this month I resolved to renew my blogging habits and write at least two to three posts a week. Yet, for those of you who might have noticed, this past week was without a single post. I will try, however, to rationalize my blogging absence. Continue reading
Just three weeks ago I was longing for the end of finals and my return to the 401. Now, after nearly a month in Rhode Island, I am ready to make my return to the Hilltop and begin the spring semester of my junior year. As much as I enjoy spending time with my family and friends in R.I., Georgetown has become just as much as a home for me.
Although I keep procrastinating the packing necessary for my “homecoming,” I am very excited to get back to campus and see my second family. This past semester particularly I established such strong friendships, and I love my friends as if they were blood. But while my family in RI is happy that I am comfortable and in love with Georgetown, there is slight resentment anytime I reference the Hilltop as “home.” Even after only one semester, I was getting in trouble from my mom for dropping the “h” word when talking about Georgetown. After one such lecture, I wrote a reflective piece about finding my place at the university, later published as a viewpoint for the Georgetown HOYA. While I wrote the piece after my first semester, it still rings true, if not even more so. Continue reading
This is one of my favorite stories to share, so please forgive me if you are someone who is hearing it for the bagillionth time.
As many of you know, last spring semester I studied away from the Georgetown Hilltop and relocated to the hillside of Fiesole in Florence, Italy. During those four months abroad, I commuted from my homestay to attend classes at Georgetown’s Tuscan villa, Villa Le Balze. As a homestay, I lived with another female student from the program in the home of a local family. My host mother was the sweetest, tiniest woman, and, as could be expected, she was an incredible cook. Every meal at Flavia’s table reminded me of those Sunday mornings as a child spent with my Italian great grandmothers. Continue reading
I am very much a list person. To-do lists, shopping lists, bucket lists; you name it, I list it. Oftentimes in the mornings I will sit down with a pen and notebook and make lists of all the things I aim to accomplish during the day. Other times, I will write up lists of things I need to remember. I credit this somewhat obsessive, hyper organized habit to my gold personality.
Wait, what? Gold? What does that mean? Let me explain.