Dear Davy Baby,
For the first time since we parted ways earlier this year, I realized I’ve been doing pretty good without you. True, our years of history meaningful memories I will never replace. True, your sleek physique is still unmatchable. And true, I still haven’t quite figured out how to parallel park Diego, your replacement, as perfectly as I could with you. But you know what? That’s okay.
Do you remember when we officially got together? I drove you to my friend’s house after Dad handed you down to me, and my friend’s mom commented, “You must have done something good.” Yes, I didn’t deserve you, but you never complained—not even after in my first accident. (I’m still sorry about that, but it’s all ancient history now right?)
A few years ago when I was in college, I asked a friend to join me on an intramural softball team. She looked at me as if I were crazy. “Thanks, but I’m terrible at softball,” she said with a laugh.
“That’s okay, I am too!” I replied. “But every team has to have four girls on the field to qualify, so you’re helping out no matter how good or bad you are.”
My friend shook her head. “Sorry, I only do things I’m good at.”
Then it was my turn to look at her as if she were crazy.
Yes, it’s normal to want to be good at things, but do we have to be good at everything we do? And how can we get good at something if we don’t practice when we’re still terrible? Do we have to get an A in a subject for it to be fun or have value?
Regardless of who you voted for, this election should have made one thing clear: it is extremely important to voice your opinion.
What’s important to you? Taxes, the environment, health care? Who do you think is going to make the best decisions about those policies? Voting is not about popularity, but about selecting a representative to lead our community in the right direction. Your vote lets the world know where you stand on the issues.
But there are additional options. Yes, voting is extremely powerful and important, but it is not the only way to make your voice heard. (more…)
Dear Angie,
As usual, I’m having trouble focusing. It’s the last day of the week that I can devote completely to my writing, and yet the gravity of that does little to motivate me. I should be taking full advantage of this day to myself, but instead I am resisting the temptations of the internet, television, and a nap. This is no easy feat — all are well within my reach. But I figure that writing to you, while not technically something that will advance my career as an author, is more productive than any of the alternatives. At least it’s writing, right?
Do you ever have trouble getting yourself to sit down and concentrate on a single task? (more…)
One of the hardest things to do after you leave school is keep in touch with your friends. You no longer get to see them every day in class or at lunch. You no longer call each other to solve calculus problems or chat about the Homecoming game. In some cases, like ours, you no longer even live in the same state. So what’s the secret to our success?
Effort.
We chat online several times a week, and we talk on the phone once or twice a month. Actually one of our favorite ways to keep in touch is to write letters, usually on goofy stationery we forgot we had. (Yes, people do still use pen and paper and the US Postal Service.) But even though we tend to rely on hightech methods of communication, the best way to keep in touch is lowest on the tech scale: seeing each face to face and hanging out in person.
That’s exactly what we did last month when Angie came to Cincinnati.
By Angie Liang
To balance the severity of my course load this past semester, I enrolled in a ballroom dancing class. Now, I’ve danced before, but never like this. Throughout the course I learned to two-step, waltz, jitterbug, foxtrot, and even tango a little. (Let me tell you, what they say is true: it is all about the attitude.) I even found a great dance partner, who I will call AP.
As part of the ongoing dance experience, AP and I decided to take a “Dips and Tricks” class. Unfortunately, we were the least experienced dancers there. Nonetheless, we trudged along as gracefully as we could, leaping and landing, sometimes correctly. We even tried to master a leg wrap that involved a quick weight change, and we giggled like middle-schoolers at our lack of elegance. But after a few attempts, we pulled it off!
So we thought we were doing pretty well, until it came time for the Death Drop. Yes, Death D-r-o-p. Even though he could hold my weight and our hands were locked correctly, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t d-r-o-p all the way down, despite AP’s assurance that he wasn’t going to let me go.
The truth is, AP isn’t the problem. Our connection is solid. The problem is me. I’m afraid to fall. I’m afraid to fail.
by Kristan Hoffman
For Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend did not buy me chocolates or flowers. He also didn’t take me out to dinner. He didn’t give me a giant teddy bear, or a mix tape, or any of the usual romantic Hallmark-y things. No, for Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend drove me from Cincinnati to Chicago—for the Spice Girls concert. If enduring a whole weekend of Girl Power doesn’t demonstrate his love, I’m not sure what could. (Nevermind the fact that for Valentine’s Day, I made my boyfriend endure a whole weekend of Girl Power…)
In fairness, both of us agree that regardless of your age, gender, sexuality, or musical taste, those were two of the most entertaining hours you could imagine. The “Fab Five” designed a spectacular show that used their music to illustrate their professional and personal journey as a group. I must confess that I don’t remember much about their first tour in the 90s—except the heartbreak of Ginger Spice quitting just before they came to the States—but I am quite certain that I will never forget their Reunion.
by Angie Liang
Instead of gaming consoles, iPods or new DVDs for Christmas, I wanted something a little different. Upon my request, my mom bought me a pair of tights that cost, well, probably too much. Keep in mind that these are fashion industry standard, polar Wolford tights. As warm as pants, they are perfect for cold temperatures and even snowy weather. Yet, no matter how I try to justify these tights, most people would never understand buying them.
I know, because I thought the same thing a month earlier. A good friend was buying cold weather, business-appropriate accessories with her parents at a high-end department store. To me it seemed ridiculous to make such a fuss over belts and Ugg boots. But while those may not have been my choice picks, I am just as guilty of overspending on items that I consider necessities and others consider trivial.
So why would our parents, who have preached about the value of hard-earned money, even consider buying us such expensive items? (more…)
by Kristan Hoffman
What looks like a panda, barks like a Beagle, and won’t walk in the rain?
Riley.
Riley is my new puppy. I’ve had him for about three weeks, but let me tell you, it feels more like three years. My boyfriend and I adopted him from a great local shelter, and we have been busy adjusting our lives ever since.
At nine weeks, Riley focuses on eating, drinking, playing, and sleeping—in that order. We, on the other hand, focus on teaching him his name and getting him to potty in the yard instead of the house. The first week was rough, but I think he’s getting the hang of things now. Patience and consistency are the keys.
As much as I’m trying to teach him, I have to admit, I’m learning ten times more. (more…)
By Kristan Hoffman
The other day, a good friend of mine came to me because she was “freaking out.” She had applied for a major international scholarship for graduate school but had not received a callback for the interview process. This was the second year in a row that she had tried; she did not want it to be the second year in a row that she failed.
Unfortunately, I think I provided little if any consolation. The truth, I told her, is that she probably shouldn’t apply to anything if she isn’t prepared to be denied.
My nonchalance doesn’t come from indifference, but from experience. (more…)
by Rob Walker.