We’re not too School for Cool

First of all, I hope that all of you had a cornucopia full of fun and food this Thanksgiving weekend. Thanks to one of my best friends in the universe, Rachel Perrotta, my possibly drab and anorexic weekend transformed into one complete with endless plates of food, exploring and of course, turning the streets of Austin into runways with our newly-bought clothes (I’m not bragging, just saying :) ). So as I sit on the patio of Starbucks on this windy day listening to jazzy versions of Christmas music, I write not only to recall the anticipated visit, but also to note the importance of friendship – all while feeling creeped out by the smiles winging my way from the cashier guy at a certain club Rachel and I went to last week due to desperation from the “no one under 21” rule. I hope it’s a coincidence because I don’t do well with stalkers; I wish she was still here to eat them wings and salvage me.
Enough of that intro, time to discuss friendship. What a gushy and corny-sounding topic, I know, but friends turn rainy days into sunshine; they’re oxygen, the blood that fuels one’s veins. Some are the melody, some are the beat. Sounds cliché, right? Well, once you’re deported to a university miles away from those you once spent time with every day, clichés seem to be saviors. Yes, I need regularity once in a while, and taking endless amounts of pictures on the streets, on poles, and with food, this holiday weekend prevented me from going crazy.



Friends are best when they’re the perfect fit and fail to wear out during lenghty adventures, like great shoes with great soules. I know it’s misspelled :)

Man this lady at Starbucks sees me trying to write and she still sweeps that broom under my feet. How awkward, I mean really, can’t she wait until I leave? I don’t think a few leaves is going to hurt the wannabe wood panels on this patio floor.  At least Daft Punk’s “One More Time” humming out from a car waiting for the green light succeeds in soothing my attitude. That reminds me; great friends understand your musical tastes and even know which songs you’d enjoy even if they lie outside of your favorite genres. Who knew that I’d find myself dancing to some rap song about the colors black and yellow while getting ready on a Sunday morning? I still don’t get what the song means but hey, it has a beat I like rocking to.

Anyway, I can’t thank my friend enough for accompanying me on my once-solitary walks to class, for freeing me from prior constraints to dance like a wild child and not judging me for all the food I eat now. We complement each other constantly, not only in the way of saying how much we like something of the other, but also in accentuating each other’s personalities.
These dumb clouds keep shielding the sun and prevent me from feeling its warmth. Please don’t be a cloud in your friends’ lives. While we may move continually because of the winds of change, remember to always try and stay as close to them, our suns, as possible without causing shadows, for a little light on these cold days can make us feel warmer than we ever imagined.
I smell Subway. Time to eat again? I think so, and while I might be eating lunch alone once more – which failed to happen once during this past week thanks to her visit – at least my soul senses satisfaction from the hunger it once felt from missing those of my past.
Dear Rachel Perrotta and all of my friends, I’m grateful for everything we’ve shared and I look forward to creating even more memories. :A) + :U)
And no, that’s not a witch or Pinocchio nose, so don’t worry, everything in this post isn’t a lie!

2 thoughts on “We’re not too School for Cool

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s