I figured the best way to finish out this year of goals would be by sharing a few statistics/reflections on what I’ve written this year.
My second year of college found me doing everything I could to be involved on campus. I wanted to have the quintessential college experience of rushing from activity to activity as a student, but the only “activities” I rushed to and from were ice cream and pop tarts. It wasn’t my best year. So after some soul-searching, I decided to apply to write for the school paper.
This marks my first attempt at writing a blog post that consists of me reacting to a journal entry. It’s kind of like those YouTube reaction videos, but minus the internet celebrity and visual appeal.
“Do Something Crazy”
That phrase has haunted me ever since I set it as a goal I wanted to complete as a 23-year-old. Looking back, I can see that I wanted to do something that would shake me out of my incredibly comfortable zone, but I have spent the months since then struggling to find an activity that would be considered “crazy.” I had almost given up finding something creative when an idea hit me. What if I did a spur of the moment weekend trip to Canada? I thought about it a bit more and was soon raring to begin what I was sure would be an unforgettable weekend.
“Put a bug in someone’s ear”
To tell someone something that suggests what they should do
A traumatic experience that left a lasting mark on me
This has been an interesting blog post to write because most people I know can attest to the fact that I have had a checkered past when it comes to my apparel choices. These poor decisions have been evidenced in the past when I described my style as one that makes me look like “an extra in a searing documentary on the mistreatment of Walmart towards its employees” or when I pointed out how much I used to favor “Wrangler jeans, [a] button-down rodeo shirt, and cowboy boots.” If those two quotes don’t make you realize how bad my style has been, you should probably find a personal stylist.
I was a junior in college when I decided to try a radical form of exercise: 80’s workout videos. I was sitting on my bed thinking about my resolution to work out that year but was still unwilling to go to the gym. Faced with this conundrum, I racked my brain for a gym alternative. It was not long before memories flooded into my mind of times spent working out to old Richard Simmons DVDs.
In a similar vein of storytelling as when I regaled you with my experiences working on a dairy farm, I am about to share something that may shock you. I used to be a hunter. Ok, to be honest, I was never that into it, but thanks to living in rural NY, I was expected to give it a try regardless of how I felt.
I recently stole over 200 hundred donuts from a shop near my home, and, like any criminal looking to exploit their crime story, I am going to share the experience with you.
Disclaimer: this post is not a PSA about the necessity of getting yourself stabbed with a flu shot. Instead, it’s a story of how I was somehow able to take something as simple as getting a shot and turn it into an uncomfortably awkward situation for every person involved.