saying goodbye to the sweatshirt, and other things.

I have this sweatshirt. I bought it on my very first trip to OSU after I learned I had been accepted. I've probably been wearing it at least once a week since then. It has made trips across states, across country borders, and the beach countless times. All that soft stuff on the inside has long ago rubbed off, so to be honest, it's not even that comfy.

I was wearing it in class yesterday, relaxing in my sheep management (don't laugh) class, happy that it had been washed and smelled clean. Then, I looked down after dropping my pen, and I realized: this thing is gross.


Proof of the grossness.

I mean, the sleeves are threadbare, and have acquired a gray tinge (they should be white), there are random spots on it that have simply become permanent residents on the shoulder and front. The little Champion logo had fallen off, leaving a blue stain, and there was a mysterious pen mark right under the "Oregon State University" lettering, which, by the way, has gone from a bright, vibrant orange to a pale, rusted color. I had just washed the thing (okay, Evan had just washed it) and here it was looking like I had dragged myself to class on my stomach. Oy.

So, I know what I have to do. I have to delegate my favorite sweatshirt to weekend status, possibly only painting status. As stupid as it sounds, I can't believe how hesitant I am to do this. This sweatshirt has been with me through it all. I wore it the first day of college, I wore it through my first hardcore breakup, I wore it while I moved in and out of apartments. It's been through a lot with me.

But let's be honest here. It didn't keep me warm anymore, because the slightest breeze could blow right through it, and it wasn't comfortable, due the fact that the feel-good fuzz had worn off. So I was wearing it for the mere fact that we had history. It was comfortable and safe. Maybe, with the demotion of the sweatshirt I can also break free from other things that I have just settled into. Maybe I can move away from the safe and comfortable and onto new and exciting things in my life. Maybe this is a sign that I need to take those steps.

Now, the only question: should I get a new sweatshirt to take with me on my new adventures?

Valentine's Day

So, there are a lot of people who apparently loathe Valentine's Day. I can understand why. They see it as a day owned by Hershey's and Hallmark and other frilly uber emo commercial franchises. Some proclaim it to be a sexist holiday (then what is father's day and mother's day?), because men are expected to buy stuff for their significant, (or maybe not so significant but shallow) girlfriends. Others think that it is a day that alienates all those who aren't expecting their own frilly, fat-filled, gift.

I really understand why people would not like this particular holiday. I've been the single one on Valentine's Day before. Oh man, have I been. Not only that, I've been the single girl while all her best friends had boyfriends on Valentine's Day girl. Yeah, it sucked. And now that I'm the girl in a committed relationship with a great boy girl, I can look back and try to convince myself that I wasn't wallowing in the deep end of the self-pity pool. I'm sure I was; let's be honest here.

Regardless, I never lost my romantic ideals set around this holiday. I was talking it over with Evan, my great boy that I often muse to, and I said that while I get the annoyances some people feel, I see Valentine's Day (along with getting more and more annoying to type all the way out) as a way to "love loudly." See, a lot of people's biggest complaint with Valen- screw it- V-day is that it gives the stoic dudes out there the excuse to save the "L" word for one day a year. Obviously, if you love someone, you shouldn't leave them guessing the fact for 364 days of the year. Those days, remind them you love them by just saying it as you go out the door, or after you eat lunch or while you procrastinate. This is loving quietly. And by that I mean it's not an outright declaration to the masses that hey, you love someone. That's what v-day is for. To outright celebrate your love for someone. Love loud. Wear red. Kiss on the street corner. Buy those stupid little cookies that are horrid for you that have the sprinkle hearts. Bust out the markers and draw the third grader version of the heart. You get where I'm going.

And what's stopping you from loving yourself if you're single? Love yourself quietly everyday. Heck, love yourself loudly everyday. And on v-day, love yourself super loud. I was so scared of looking pathetic by treating myself to valentine goodies in my kingdom of singledom, but what I've come to realize is that I probably looked more pathetic in my sweats, eating stale Wheat Thins and watching The Real World. How could I have let myself hate myself on the day that celebrates love?

So just love tomorrow. Love yourself, love the others in your life. I'm going to try really hard to just like my neighbor, just for the sake that it's valentine's day.