Elle is for Love

It is a truth universally acknowledged that having a bad day will mean all the world will conspire against you to make it worse.

So, after being completely worn out at dance, you drive home planning on getting a smoothie packed with protein to supplement the fact that you have eaten nothing of substance in three days and now have a cold from your boyfriend, which, in the end, you couldn’t care less that he is the one that gave it to you. Anyways, you’re driving and you pull into Xoom because that is the true healthy smoothie shop, and not Jamba Juice. As you turn into Xoom you look down at the car radio and see the time, which is 5:18 and you think, Wait…doesn’t Xoom close at 5 because it is a ridiculous and inconvenient time for them to close? But you turn in anyways with a tiny bit of hope in your heart because you are starving and your throat is sore and it is going to taste so amazing. And…the “Open” sign is clearly posted in the store window. Starbursts of excitement explode in your head and then, the Xoom guy—who has to look earthy and edgy—is sweeping and you see the chairs on top of the counter near the magazines and you know that he just hasn’t flipped the sign but that he probably already washed all of the supplies. And so you pause, with the lights of your car going straight into the windows of the shop, which makes the Xoom guy look up at you and you swear, absolutely swear, that earthy-edgy Xoom guy gave you a dirty look. A look that meant, “As soon as you park that car, I’m going to flip the sign. I will. I will flip the sign” and that look made your soul crawl and you just drove through the parking lot and back onto Speedway. Thank you, Xoom guy, for the beginning of a downward spiral.

So, without a smoothie, you drive to your dorm in the pouring rain (of course) and think about how much your throat hurts and how you have a bunch of homework and there is no way in the world you are walking the lengthy distance between your parking garage and dorm room. Praying for an open spot in front of your dorm, of course there isn’t one, so you settle for a spot in front of the next dorm, but you know there is no way that you will be able to get up prior to 6 a.m. and move your car to its rightful place in the garage. But you park there anyways, because it’s pouring and you are wearing a t-shirt and jazz pants, and you have a cold. So, you trudge through the puddles and the rain because Arizona, land of the monsoons, cannot think ahead enough to put in proper drainage routes for rainwater. But, it’s okay; because you can do all of the homework you want and feel so productive that all the other worries will go away.

So, walking into your dorm, you see that the girl at the desk is not one that knows you and so she does not acknowledge your presence or look up, but whatever because you are going to be productive! Upon opening your door, you realize that all of the lights are turned off and your roommate is not sitting at her computer, and the blanket on the top bunk looks lumpy, and not pushed-aside lumpy, but person-inside lumpy. And you recall that she never came home after a party last night, which means she is most likely taking a nap, and she then pops her head up and says that she just laid down and to make all the noise you want. You love that she doesn’t care and do not blame her for wanting a nap, because you take so many of those, so you try to be as quiet as possible anyways. Everyone deserves some quality naptime. Well, that means homework is probably out of reach at the moment, so much for productivity. And so, the next best thing: FACEBOOK!

So, signing into facebook, you see that you have a total of 3 notifications. There is nothing like a lack of response or affection on a social networking page. No one wants to open their facebook and see only 3 notifications, because deep down inside you wish that all of your friends had something to say to you without you having said anything to them because everyone wants a little attention. Then you see that 2 of the notifications are just “likes” on your status, and the other notification is a comment from someone you don’t know on a friend’s status. Now you feel worse, so you decide to go take a shower. You gather all of your stuff as quietly as you can, which means dropping every item at least twice with a loud thud, and go to the shower. Showering is pretty foolproof, although you have almost drowned once or twice for various sleep-related reasons (probably not you, but more me). Until, the lights, which run on a timer, turn off halfway through. And you continue to shower, in the dark, and the dark is depressing.

So, walking back into your dorm room, you drop everything at least twice, knock over various dishes and realize that instead of having a “planet” on your face, there is pretty much an entire universe thriving there. Thank you, God, for oily teenage faces. The showering/lotioning process is complete; sweats and t-shirt go on, along with less-warm jacket because more-warm jacket is too cute to be seen in since your current state is universal, in a bad way. A quick trip back to the computer to see if Canyon Café is open for some apple cider, of course it is not, Starbucks in the Bookstore, yes. You know that you will never move your car if you don’t move it now so you make the quick trip to the union to get apple cider first. The Starbucks is dark and vacant, the farthest thing from open, so you settle for U-Mart hot chocolate.

So, opening the door to the U-Mart, you see that your universal face is coupled with half-wet hair, which makes it look greasy, and you are wearing black sweatpants, a black t-shirt, a black zip-up and black chucks. You think to yourself, Could I BE anymore angsty? Oh, Chandler Bing, how I love thee, and continue into the store. You fill up the cup with hot chocolate to the brim, immediately realize there is no way you are moving that to the counter without spilling it, so you take a big gulp. You are stupid. The boiling-lava-hot hot chocolate, as Jim Gaffigan would say, scalds your mouth and makes your eyes water a ridiculous amount, so now you are standing at the cash register in all black attire, with greasy hair, planet-covered face and tear-filled eyes. Besides, you already have a cold that makes you slightly pale with a reddish nose. He looks at you pityingly, and now you really do want to cry, but you just walk to the back counter, put a lid on your hot chocolate and leave.

So, walking back to your car, you feel horribly embarrassed and drive your car back to the parking garage and take the wrong entrance, which puts you farther away than you normally park. The second you get out of your car the rain, which had stopped while you were in the car, begins again. And you didn’t wear your more-warm jacket, because you thought it would look funny. News flash, you look funny anyways because of your all-black attire, universal face and greasy (not really, just wet and getting wetter) hair. The hot chocolate, which was supposed to be caramel apple cider from the false-advertising Starbucks, doesn’t feel good in your scalded mouth. You walk all the way back to your dorm in the rain, in the dark, which means every single person walking near you will be a slightly scary looking man, and you will remember that your pepper spray is on your desk and your best friend/bodyguard is at work, along with your boyfriend/bodyguard. You will panic without meaning to, finally reach your dorm, type in the code so fast you push too many buttons but it opens anyways (very secure), and the girl at the desk still doesn’t look up. At this point, you are feeling so hysterical and awful that you would not put it past you if you screamed “Acknowledge my existence, please!!!! I don’t even care what you’re name is!!!! Just say hi to me!!!” But you calmly turn to the left and walk down the hall.

So, walking back into your dorm room, your roommate is still asleep. The quality naptime has now stretched over 2 hours, and you are very happy for her to be able to sleep because she had a long night. But, all you want is a little company and she is sleeping. And then she disappears. So you write a blog, and you realize that it seems funny after you write it all down, unless you just spent the last 4 hours living it.

And so I say, “Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my opinion.” (Jane Bennett, Ch. 17)