be.

i am really not sure how i feel about turning 22.

turning 16 was very exciting because it was a milestone.

turning 18 was very exciting because it was a milestone.

turning 21 was very exciting because… you get it.

but what is 22 all about?

i pay my own rent now. i listen to jazz music. i commute on a bike. i make balanced meals, rarely relying on canned items for sustenance.

i am basically an adult, but i feel like i’ve been saying that since i turned 18.

i was an adult when i enrolled at msu.

i was an adult when i had a job that i had no idea how to do properly.

i was an adult when i dropped out of msu and decided to go to community college.

i was an adult working 30 hours a week taking 18 credits.

i was an adult when i decided that i could sleep with anyone i wanted.

i was an adult when i realized i didn’t want to sleep with anyone.

i was an adult when i moved to chicago, knowing no one.

i was an adult making a million mistakes.

i was an adult then, and i’m kind of one now.

i think i’m scared of turning 22 because it seems like the age where i’ll have to start seriously addressing the questions people ask me about my future.

“what do you want to do when you graduate?”

“where do you see yourself in five, 10 years?”

“where do you want to work”

columbia is an amazing place to go to school. most professors are so involved in their industry that they’re eager to help explore future employment options. this was something i wanted when i was decided where i wanted to go to school. i was really focused at 19.

but now… a few days shy of 22, all i want to do is be happy.

i’m okay with being a nanny or a babysitter or whatever and riding my bike around to the library or the pier and just… being.

at least for now. i’m really feeling good about just being where i am.

i buy my underwear for me

i do not know how to spell underwear correctly. despite how many times the red squiggle appears under my spelling, i still think it makes more sense spelled "underware." not sure why i want to spell it that way, but i do. every. time.

anyways, lately i’ve found myself surrounded by the topic of sexuality. people can’t stop talking about miley, moms are slut shaming their daughters, and victoria’s secret keeps sending me free undie coupons. not only that, but i also now live with four other girls i’ve never met before. we have a lot of past life to fill each other in on, and that includes underwear: favorite style, favorite color, ect.

so when one of my roommates was completely appalled at my favorite pair of underwear, i started thinking… who do i buy my underwear for, if not for me?

i know that a lot of people, including myself (in many situations), like to be told what to buy. “women are the number one consumer market,” blah, blah blah. “women tell the men what to buy, so we tell the women what to buy,” blah, blah, blah.

i like full-coverage undies. the more cotton, the better. i don’t understand the fascination that surrounds string underwear.

butt wedgies are the worst, and i won’t even get started on what happens in the front. the best way to combat this is cover it all.

the man repeller wrote about some of her underwear tendencies in her book. she nearly wore her period underwear on her wedding day. her period underwear is full coverage and black.

in GIRLS, ray goes through hannah’s underwear drawer and finds a pair of underwear he thought was crotch-less and really turned out to be full of holes. at first, he seemed intrigued… but then he was grossed out.

in 10 things i hate about you, cameron and bianca go through kat’s underwear drawer and find a black pair of bikini briefs. bianca is intrigued because she says it means her sister wants to have sex one day.

so if black underwear in the 90s was a sign of sex, and black underwear in the late 2000s is reserved for periods… was does this mean now?

i have a lot of old underwear from my victoria’s secret pink days. cute little things with cheeky sayings like “extra credit” and “kiss me.” things i wouldn’t pay $1 for now, let alone $5 at the time. now the underwear i intentionally buy is either nude or black. not because it’s risqué or sexy… so i can throw it all in the wash together and not worry about color mixing or bleeding.

does my underwear say “practical” individually, or just as a collection?

in terms of underwear, have i died before i’m even dead?

disclaimer: this post was originally started in october 2013, which is why living with four girls is referenced. now i only live with one. yay, me.

hbd + happy anniversary

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LIL HYDRANCHULA

the hydranchula is one year old today. while she has gone through some name and aesthetic changes in the last 12 months, she has turned into the hydranchula i always hoped she would be.

thank you so much to anyone who reads and has encouraged me to keep writing. without your support, i’m not sure i would keep writing this blog. i appreciate you more than i could ever say or write down in this blog.

i want to give special thanks to some special people: to my mom for birthing me and telling me i’m awesome even when i’m being a terror, to the girlfriends who are more of anti-girlfriends, kaily and alyssa, who would i be without you two? and the girlfriends i never expected: lara and morgan, thank you for teaching me to hug and to sing, and thank you to will for being someone who gets me.

sorry for the hiatus; i’m back.

~*~

in the middle of the summer, i found myself single for one whole year.

the last time i was single for longer than one year, i was 14 years old.

in a year of singlehood, i’ve figured out a lot of shit about my life and life in general.

here it is:

breaking up with someone you love sucks. breaking up with someone you love because you know it will be better for your individual lives sucks even more.

there is a moment in your post-breakup life where you realize you’re really not getting back together. it wasn’t a fluke. you said the words, he accepted them, it’s been a few weeks, and you’re still not talking.

there is another moment when you realize that you’re really done. once you’ve realized you’re not getting back together, this moment comes. you’ll never get married, you’ll never have kids together, you’ll never get the dog you’ve already named.

those moments are really difficult to swallow. regardless of the relationship’s length. it’s not just the person you fall in love with. you fall in love with route it takes to get from your door to theirs, whether it takes 45 minutes or three hours. you love his mom and his dog and knowing which drawer in his kitchen the spoons live in.

a really terrible moment is when you realize that you probably shouldn’t see each other anymore. and you probably shouldn’t sleep together anymore, either… because you broke up.

a terrible but exciting moment is the day that you decide to start sleeping with other people. an equally terrible but humbling moment is the day you decide he could start sleeping with other people, and your knowledge of this doesn’t bother you.

this moment is also kind of happy because it means he is moving on, and you know how difficult that is, so you’re happy for him because being broken up sucks.

there is this moment when you realize how great it is to be by yourself. and there is another one shortly after that when you realize how great it is to be you.

there’s a moment when you realize how great it is to focus your energy on having relationships with women. i have never had more female friends in my entire life than i do right now. while this frightens me, i have never felt more uplifted, empowered or loved by others than i do now.

at some point, i realized how lucky i was to have freedom to do anything that i wanted. i kind of hate saying this, because it means that being in a relationship is the opposite of freedom to do whatever you want. i don’t think that is always the case, but being in a relationship means losing some of my selfishness. being in a relationship means that i choose to put someone else before me in some cases.

being single for a year has allowed me to do a really wonderful thing: start this blog. the hydranchula is my like one of my best girlfriends. she’s given me the confidence to write about things that i might have otherwise deemed too personal or private. she is one of my new favorite things about myself.

and there is no better feeling than finding your voice.