A Beautiful Day In the Neighborhood

It's Indian summer here at Notre Dame, with sunshine, warm grass and blue skies. What a lovely day to be alive.

How was my weekend? Oh, just a blast. :) It's great to be a senior and 21, too.

I spent Thursday sitting out on the quad with Samwise and Lillian for hours, then we went to Sam's friend's apartment for a boys' night (plus me) watching "(500) Days of Summer." Great movie.

Friday I went to the pep rally, where, in a typical klutzy move, I fell through a folding chair and messed up my ankle. On the plus side, I got to sit in the wheelchair section at the football game Saturday, which gave me an excellent view... of our loss to Stanford. *sigh* Notre Dame football, you continue to disappoint me.

Friday night, I went to a Great Gatsby-themed housewarming party and then a 21st birthday party. Saturday was my first time going out to a South Bend bar. We hit up the Linebacker, which had plenty of character and lots of my friends in attendance - just what I look for in a bar. Sunday night, Shannon and I went to Sam's dorm, Dillon Hall, for Mass... we may make this a weekly tradition.

Tonight there is a reunion of the Notre Dame London Program, where I spent last semester. Should be a good time.

Worst Feeling Ever

This is a pretty ironic title in light of my last post's title... but that just goes to show how quickly my moods swing around.

I'm in the middle of writing a 3-part series on Terry R., the '79 Notre Dame alum who came back to win the Bengal Bouts at age 55. The first part of the series went ok, although Terry wasn't crazy about a small editorial mistake (since fixed). Today the second installment came out and Terrence called me, mad as a hornet. It seems that there were a few inaccuracies in the story, including a quoted sentence that he claims he never said.

I went back into my notes and sure enough, there was the quote - but there's no way to prove it since I didn't use a tape recorder. Oh, he was mad about that too. The man will never take a sentence to answer a question when five paragraphs will do and the thought of having to transcribe an entire tape-recorded conversation with him gives me nightmares. But that's not even the issue here. The issue is professional pride.

I take pride in getting the facts right, in quoting people accurately and getting the information out fairly. His criticisms hit me at my most vulnerable point - my desire to be the best dang journalist possible. Now I can't even focus on my schoolwork this afternoon because I'm too busy dreading the inevitable email to my editors, telling them "I made a mistake..." Can you say embarrassing?? Worst of all is the knowledge that I messed up, that I was entrusted with getting a story right and I failed to do my job well.

I guess this is another lesson in humility. I'm not a perfect journalist, after all, and this will remind me to be more careful in the future. But it's still so difficult to swallow my pride!! Lord, when I prayed for humility, did you have to make it so difficult to take?

Best Birthday Ever

Ok so the whole "Reasons I Like Being Single" thing was fun and all but I'm bored with it now. Hello, Tess's ADD. Also it occurred to me that maybe dwelling on why I like being single is a little... much. So enough of that. Instead I present to you... My Wonderful Birthday Weekend (yes folks, I'm 21 now!!)

Friday night I went to the Western-themed dance. Maggie did my hair and make-up, Lillian lent me a shirt and Katherine next door lent me turquoise cowboy boots. The group effort paid off and I had a crazy good time. Here I am with my fabulous date, Sam:

Don't we look divine? Here I am with by bff Shannon before the dance, at the pre-dance party in Katherine's room.

 

 We kind of look like lumberjacks... but cute lumberjacks. :)

I spent Saturday with my family. Mama Book Smart came to visit me with three of my little sisters. We had lunch at fancy schmancy Sorin's restaurant, our annual tradition, and then they helped me unpack winter clothes in my room (by "helped" I mean my mama folded clothes while the 3 little ones got in the way). Then I took them to the LaFortune candy wall and my littlest sister thought she'd died and gone to Heaven. A normal reaction to massive quantities of candy, I think.

Sunday was my utterly fabulous 21st birthday garden party. It was everything a garden party ought to be. We had champagne flutes with a raspberry floating in each, chocolate cake, vanilla rum cake, scones and tiny finger sandwiches with frilly toothpicks. Not to mention strawberries and cream. The inimitable Coco Chanel once said, "Every girl should be two things: classy and fabulous." Well honey, I fulfilled that maxim to my classiest, most fabulous best. 

Me with my hat, my sundress, my heels and a bottle of champagne.

Yes indeed, it was everything a birthday should be.

Perfectly happy, Tess

Pretty Things

Here are some things I am wishing for right now...

This dress from Shabby Apple. Just look at that glorious sunshine color.

 

Another Shabby Apple dream. So pretty and modest too. I love, love, love it.

Have I mentioned Mod Cloth yet? Oh just you wait...

   

Dreams really do come true! These dresses fit in perfectly with my "50s housewife chic" aesthetic. I'd like to order these dresses and wear them every day (if only a South Bend winter weren't headed my way)!

But there are other delights in store...

The gorgeous Penguin Cloth-bound Classics series is everything a book-loving aesthete could ask for. I want the whole whimsical collection.

Last but not least, there's the Cath Kidston Home Collection. 

*Sigh* A girl can dream!

Here's today's reason I love being single... I get to fill my room with frilly, girly, beautiful things like these instead of dealing with collections of beer glasses (or whatever weird things boys have in their rooms). Hooray!

Today is so busy. Tutoring kids at 10 am, meeting with a professor at 2 pm, Constitution Day lecture at 4 pm, dorm dance at 10 pm. Plus my best friend from high school, Maggie, is visiting and I have my thesis outline due. Wish me luck!

Dancin' Fools; or, I Am A Matchmaker

Friday night is the Badin Hall dance with our brother dorm, Dillon. I asked my friend Sam (a Dillonite) to go with me about 3 weeks ago because he's a skilled swing dancer, he's funny and sweet, and there's a $2 discount if you go with a Dillon guy. Score!

Sam's room looks out on the quad so sometimes when I'm walking past, I like to stop and harrass him and his lovable roommate Dan through their window, which is always open. Depending on my mood, I either yell "Yo Sam! Dan!" or I start singing Disney songs as I approach. On occasion Lillian and I harmonize to "Can you feel the love tonight?" The boys just love it, I tell ya.

So last night, as I stood by their window, Sam and Dan weren't responding to my operatic tones. Never disheartened, my friend Shannon and I went up to visit Sam's neighbors, Jack and Blair, instead.

Shannon and I in London. Who says pictures have to be relevant to the post?

We hung out there for a while and talk turned to the dance. Jack and Blair wanted to go, but needed dates. So with my typical way of making promises I'm not sure I can keep, I promised to find them dates. 

But as I left Dillon, panic set in. It was 10:30 pm - the boys had until midnight to buy tickets. The pressure was cranked up about as high as it could be.

Fast forward through 2 hours of frantic phone calls, some intense Facebook-stalking, racing around the dorm, texting, panicking and laughing. I assembled 4 willing ladies and then brought Sam, Dan, Jack and Blair over to meet their dates. Everyone hit it off. We bought tickets just minutes before the deadline. Plans were made to hit up a thrift store for Western garb. The boys almost got kicked out of the dorm for staying several minutes after parietals. And in the end, everyone went home with a date for Friday's dance. That, my friends, is what I call success. :)

p.s. That's also my reason I love being single of the day... I get to experience madness like that. I felt like I was back in high school... and I loved it.

A Lesson in Humility

Yesterday around noon I got all suited up - gym shoes, running shorts, the works - to go for a run. But just as I started to walk out the door, I found myself paralyzed. The truth is that I HATE running. I hate exercising. It's uncomfortable, it's unpleasant, it hurts, my face gets red, my hair gets sweaty, and I just plain hate it. *shudder* Not to mention every other runner is faster than me and it's SO embarrassing. So I stood there for 5 minutes reasoning myself into it and finally I thought, "This can be a lesson in humility."

I was a junior in high school when my friend David told me about this unusual litany that he found in the back of an old prayer book. It's called the Litany of Humility by Cardinal Merry del Val and well, it's the weirdest prayer ever. You pray "That others may be loved more than I," "That others may be chosen and I set aside," "That others may be preferred to me in everything." Unconventional, but beautiful. So I thought about this prayer and I reasoned, "Doing this will help me to be less vain/proud." Because let me tell you, it is impossible to feel vain when you are huffing along with a red face, watching an 80-year-old woman pass you by. True life.

As I got down to the lakes, I saw a crowd of 8 or 10 young moms, each wearing exercise clothes and pushing a stroller. Suddenly I was hit with an attack of baby envy. (I'm not the only person who gets that, right? Right??... don't answer that.) But then they started sauntering around the lake at their mom-like pace and I ran past them and sprinted off into the distance. This leads me to Reason I Like Being Single of the Day: I can run around the lakes at my own pace instead of being slowed down by a stroller. (Not that I don't want a stroller someday, just not right now.)

Later that day, I passed by one of my guy friends reading. I stopped to chat with him and was hit with another Freaky Tess Phobia... panic around cute guys. This guy has been dating my friend for like a decade and yet I freak out around him just because he's cute. What is up with that?? As I walked away from him, replaying in my head all the "dumb things" I did and said (as one does), I remembered the Litany of Humility.

You know, it's a lot easier to get over embarrassment if you tell yourself the embarrassment was good for your soul.

Breaking News!

Yesterday I ran the whole way around St. Mary's Lake. I've never managed to run the whole way around it before, and even though I had to stop like every ten seconds to catch my breath, I'm feeling pretty dang proud of myself. Pretty soon I'll be able to run around St. Joseph's Lake too, and then around both lakes! What's next, the Chicago Marathon?

(This all sounds a lot more impressive if you don't know that St. Mary's Lake has a circumference of exactly one mile.)

I'm all about health these days. No freshman 15 for me, thanks, or rather senior 16 in this case. (Gah I hate remembering that I'm a senior.) Yes I had dessert with every meal yesterday, but I also had salad for lunch and I totally ate broccoli with dinner. And fro-yo. But not with the broccoli. Gross.

(Don't you love when you get to read about everything I ate yesterday?)

Tonight I am going to a Center for Ethics and Culture lecture on Walker Percy. Everything the CEC does is invariably excellent. What are you doing tonight? You should come!

Today I like being single because it's painless. Dating is messy and breaks people's hearts. I like not hurting anyone and not getting hurt myself.

Happy Tuesday!

It's Getting Easier

When I first tried to think of reasons I was glad to be single, I struggled to think of a single one. I've always been bad at appreciating the present. I'm someone who thinks the grass is always greener on the other side - which is exactly why I started this project. And somehow it's getting easier every day!

Today I love being single because I got to ask my best friend Sam to my dorm dance on Friday. Choosing a dance date based on 1. how fun he is to hang out with and 2. how good he is at dancing (swing dancing, in fact - the boy's had lessons) is the best! (P.S. If you click through to the link above about Sam, please excuse my HEINOUS hair in that post. I look like a fluffy squirrel. Seriously, what was I thinking posting those pics for all the world to see??)

I also love being single because today I'm meeting a new friend, Ben, for lunch. In the old days, eating lunch with just one guy friend would have made me feel funny, squirmy and guilty, like I wasn't being faithful to my far-away boyfriend or something. (Was I just being too scrupulous?) Lunch dates galore is another reason I like being single.

The final reason I came up with might seem a little silly, but bear with me. Yesterday at Mass, I was trying to pick who to pray for that day (or "offer up my day for," as we Catholics like to say). My dad, my guy friends, my ex-boyfriend, my future husband, all came up for consideration. Finally I decided to declare it "Man Day" and offer it for all of them. Thanks to me being single, now I pray for all the men in my life instead of just one! (Ok that is a really silly reason, isn't it? Because it's not like I couldn't pray for them before). Also I love praying for my future husband. It's so mysterious and exciting. So that's another special benefit of being single.

This project was such a good idea. I'm loving my life and this single season in it more each day.

Loss to Michigan, Victory for Me

Last night I stayed home and went to bed early, just because I wanted to. It was an awesome feeling and one I plan to replicate. I'm pretty proud of myself, not gonna lie; I spent the first 3 years of college at the mercy of peer pressure when it came to my weekend plans. Not anymore. Hooray me!

Tridentine Mass again this morning. This time I'll get there early enough to snag a red book with the Latin-to-English translations; last week I struggled to follow along. Before Mass, I want to finish my reading for Journalism class. I also want to do laundry but that will have to wait, because I discovered I don't have any laundry detergent. Oops.

Today I love being single because I can go to bed whenever I want, even at 10 pm, and not have to deal with long phone calls or someone who insists on seeing me. Ahh independence. What a great and restful thing.

Enjoying It

Today marks one year since I broke up with my boyfriend of over 3 years. Our relationship carried me through my senior year of high school and my first 2 years of college. Through all that time, I can't complain about a single thing. He was a good, kind guy; I just didn't love him. I know he will make an amazing husband - for some other girl.

It's been a tumultuous year to say the least. The semester after the break-up was filled with painfully awkward attempts to re-enter the dating scene. News flash: guys you meet at frat parties will not call to ask you out the next day. College boys aren't really into dating either. And by "not really" I mean "not at all." Also, making fun of a guy's taste in books is not a socially acceptable pick-up line. Who knew?

Then came my semester in Europe, where I learned more things that I didn't want to know about guys. Like, college boys are immature and usually trashy. British guys are formal and Greek guys are forward. Also, you will not meet your future boyfriend at a dance club. Shocker.

Next up was my glorious summer in New York. I didn't blog during that time because I was too busy working and having fun. I found out that if a guy has a job and steady income, he'll actually take a girl on real dates. And a girl like me, who feels out-of-place in college because of her grandma-like "Betty homemaker" tendencies, is somehow JUST what post-college guys are looking for. It was a good summer.

Now I'm back at college, which is populated by dear, silly, very immature college boys (many of whom are my friends). Nary a dinner date to be found. This is tough for a romantic, flirtatious soul like me. Sometimes I think to myself, "Just get through this year." But on this, the anniversary of my single life, I've decided that that attitude is silly. I was so glad to get out of a relationship and it's high time I realized how lucky I am to be in this single season of my life. From now on, every time I post, I'm going to list a reason I love being single. It's just the right thing to do.

Reason I Love Being Single #1: I went to Speed Dating Friday night and had an amazing time laughing and flirting with tipsy football players. Then two of my guy friends walked me home, singing Disney songs all the way, and even proffered a "We love you, Tess!" as they dropped me off at my door. Better than a boyfriend, don't you think? :)

Sunday Morning

I'm going to the 9 am Tridentine Mass on campus today.

9 am? On a Sunday morning?

Brutally early is what I would once have called that. This is the girl who stays up until 4 am reading blogs and checking Facebook. Or just reading novels. I've never been an early bird but rather like to sleep til noon. The past 3 years have been (among other things) one long, fruitless effort to train myself to be an early riser.

Last night, one of my friends who recently broke up with her boyfriend came home crying for the second time this week. Poor darling. Even though she initiated it, the break-up has hit her hard. I tried to sympathize but I couldn't be much help because truthfully, I've never cried over a boy, so I didn't know what she was going through. I've just never cared that much. Go ahead, call me cold-hearted and callous. Maybe it's true. But as I sat there thinking over her situation, I realized this:

Other people don't affect my feelings all that much. My sadness and happiness, the bad things I do and the good things I don't do, are because of my own efforts and nothing else. The times when I am most upset are because of my own dumb mistakes and not because of friends, boys, or anything outside myself. So if I want to grab onto virtue with both hands (I do!) and really live the life of my dreams (complete with 6 am wake-ups and 8 hours of sleep every night), that responsibility is on me and no one else.

This is all probably completely obvious. You wouldn't think it would take me almost 21 years to grasp that. But now that I know that, I want to hold on to it and use it to order my life the way it ought to be.

And that, my friends, is why I'm up so awfully early for Tridentine Mass.

p.s. I met the guy and he was very funny and sweet. Very kind eyes. But he's 8 years older than me and I gotta tell ya, I was feeling that age gap. It's ok. As someone once said, men are like trains - as soon as one goes away, there's another one coming right around the corner.

p.p.s. While reading through the Gospel of Mark today for Theology class, I came upon this line: "And he called the crowd to him again, and said to them, 'Hear me, all of you, and understand. There is nothing outside a man that, entering into him, can defile him; but the things that come out of a man, these are what defile a man." Coincidence? I think not.

Nightmare

I woke up this morning gasping and afraid. I clutched my blankets over my head and forced myself to think, "It was just a dream. It was just a dream."

It wasn't my first wake-up. At 6:30 am, I had drifted awake to chants coming from outside. A rowdy pack of half-dressed boys was standing in front of Howard Hall chanting, "Wake up, Howard! Wake up, Howard!" It's a Notre Dame tradition that the boys' dorms wake the girls early on Football Saturday mornings like that. I peeked out the window, torn between fondness for their school spirit and irritation at the rude awakening. Irritation was in the lead as they grew louder, cheering as Howard girls turned on lights and peeked outside. But as the boys - satisfied that they had awoken Howard and annoyed every resident in the process - ran off to Pangborn and their cheers died away, fondness won the day. Silly boys, I thought as I dove back into Dreamland.

But Dreamland was not so welcoming. I can't remember how my frightening dream began, but to begin in media res, I was lost in an old city trying to find a German ice cream shop called Jensen's, where I would meet up with my sisters and friends. As night fell, I went to the local police station - a dimly lit outfit where cops sat at windows like carnival vendors - and asked for directions. The cops had never heard of the shop but two girls my age were loafing at the station, and one declared she knew of the place and offered to take me there.

We three walked for a few minutes before reaching a long, fenced path, surrounded by a wasteland. A man with a strangely round, white face and greedy eyes stood to one side of the path. I was afraid but I thought, "There are three of us, and these girls know where they're going. Let's just hurry through." So we began down the path, walking quickly. Then even quicker as the man began to follow us. I linked arms with the leader of the two girls and as we sped up, the other girl tried to keep up but fell behind. Not daring to look back, my companion began to run, carrying me weightlessly along with her. I was flying, but this wasn't some fun flying dream - I have never been so afraid.

I heard the third girl scream and I forced my companion to stop. "We have to go back for her!" I said. So we turned and walked back - she reluctant, I trembling but determined. I could see her struggling with the man and just as we approached he threw her body to the side of the path. My companion also fell to the ground, shot or stunned. I could do nothing but watch in stupefied horror as the man slowly, inevitably, approached me.

Just as I would do in real life, I appealed to a supernatural power. "Someone has to save me!" I thought, expecting angels or the police to appear. It was then that I realized "This is a dream" and woke up shaking.

After I finally convinced myself to come out from under the covers, I did what any sensible person would do and went to the computer to look up dream interpretations.

Dreams of being chased "stem from feelings of anxiety in your waking life," according to dreammoods.com. "Your actions in the dream parallel how you would respond to pressure and cope with fears, stress or various situations in your waking life."

In the dream, my sense of honor and responsibility made me turn and confront the pursuer to help another - and this ended in me becoming the victim. I think this means that I'm worried that my strong moral convictions will end up hounding me and destroying me. Certainly my morals have caused me problems of late - last night Joey called me judgmental, and my conservative opinions are earning me enemies in class and on the staff of my college newspaper. Maybe this anxiety about balancing moral principle with social acceptability was the meaning of my dream.

In any case, I do have some exciting news. Today I will be meeting my mysterious Facebook lovah, a philosophy grad student with whom I've been corresponding for the past month. That's a little scary too, so I bet that nervousness contributed to my nightmare too.

Wish me luck!

Notre Dame Autumn

It's my last fall as a Notre Dame student. Last year of classes, pep rallies, and the student section at football games (at least that's what the ND police think, muahaha).

I'm really, really scared about graduating. Even more scared than I was about coming to college, and that's saying something. This has manifested itself in urgent appointments with the Career Center staff (I told the lady "I would really just like a job in 9 months") and frantic emails to my parents listing every single thing I could possibly do after graduation (law school? grad school? Teach for America? consulting? So help me). It's a little over-the-top considering it's only Sept. 3.

The Dillon pep rally was today and tomorrow we play Purdue. I've got The Shirt made into a dress and temporary leprechaun tattoos to put on my face. I'm sitting in the Badin Senior section. Hurray!

It's funny how the whole time I was in London and New York, all I could think about was how much I loved and missed Notre Dame. "If I could only go to the Grotto right now." "Ooh I miss the dining hall." "Just think of the Golden Dome - remember how you can see it shine from anywhere on campus?" And yes my campus is beautiful. But it's also so chock-full of preps that it's a lot like one big country club. It is a safe cozy little cocoon of unreality. And everyone here is so good-looking and smart that it makes one feel plain by comparison. Comparisons are odious, as Cervantes, Christopher Marlowe, Shakespeare and John Donne would say. But really this campus is a pretty skewed representation of the general population. So as much as I love my school, I'm not nearly as obsessed with it when actually here. Good to remember for the future.

Oh, but in case you were wondering, the Grotto really is all it's cracked up to be, and more.