While Australians do speak English, it often gets muzzled between their accents and jargon. They abbreviate everything, literally everything. Everyone gets a nickname out of affection, and word pronunciation is often off. Oregano…is oregAHno…like origami, but not. Basil is BAAAAsil. Maroon is Maroan. You get the point. Over the past few months, I’ve come across certain word substitutions:

Jam = jelly

Jelly = jello

Jumper = sweatshirt

Box = to borrow

Brekkie = breakfast

Rubbish = trash

Hotcho = hot chocolate

Toastie = Panini

Arvo = afternoon

Uni = university

Lolly = candy

Skull = chug

Keen = excited

Bogan = white trash

And some super cool phrases are:

Get amongst it = get with it/get on my level

Too easy = I get it/alright

check out some more words here:

http://www.koalanet.com.au/australian-slang.html

It took me quite a while before I could have a full on conversation with an Aussie, but the more time I spend with them, the more I find myself keeping up with their jargon. And I will most definitely be bringing a lot of these words back to the states with me.

Preamble: Due to my heightened sense of my own importance, I’m calling this a preamble, because I believe my words are just as important as those in the Constitution. Just kidding…I just like the word preamble. Anyway, this is the third in a series of blogs on my life with POTS. My first blog has a comprehensive explanation of what POTS is, and can be found at: http://blogs.theeagleonline.com/people-to-people/2011/10/my-life-with-pots/.

When a person with POTS says that if they could choose to go back and get sick all over again, they would because the experience has made them a better person, I’m pretty sure they are full of it. Because really, is it worth being a better person if you can’t stand up? But in an effort to be more positive, something that doesn’t always come naturally to me, I’ve decided to compile a list of the Top Thirty Reasons Why I’m Glad I Have POTS:

1)      I can stay in my pajamas all day and no one can judge me.

2)     When I bring home yummy food, I write “Don’t Eat—It Belongs to a Chronically Ill Child” on the container, and no one eats it.

3)     POTS  is not degenerative.

4)     Handicapped parking!

5)     My mom used to yell at me for spending my life watching TV. Not anymore!

6)     If I ever find myself in the presence of a celebrity, I have a surefire way to meet them: faint! For example, if I had been in the zumba class that Michelle Obama attended, I could’ve passed out, had her rush to my side in concern, and gotten some serious face time!

7)     If fainting doesn’t work, a letter to my favorite celebrities explaining my devastating condition would probably get me some face-time (and maybe a backstage pass?).

8)     Priority registration!

9)     I have a go-to answer for the interview question “Can you give an example of a time you overcame a challenge?”

10)  I have become a walking medical dictionary.

11)   People with POTS tend to feel worse when the dew point is higher. Since the dew point indicates whether or not it is going to rain, I can predict the weather based on how I am feeling. I have not been without an umbrella when I’ve needed one since getting sick.

12)  I have a purpose in life: getting people with POTS the awareness they deserve.

13)  “POTS” is a disorder with a name that lends itself to lots of puns (and drug references).

14)  “POTS” also has a built-in name for a PR campaign: STOP POTS.

15)  The friendships that have endured through this have gotten much stronger.

16)  I’m a white, middle-class girl from the suburbs, and potential employers still consider me a minority.

17)  Because I’m constantly at my POTS doctor, I no longer have to go to the yearly physicals where my super-awkward pediatrician winks every time she says “puberty” and nudges me and wiggles her eyebrows when she asks, “So…how’s your love life?”

18)  I use the handicapped shower on my floor, and since no one else uses it, I can store a ton of my stuff in there. Extra towels, my shower caddy…you name it!

19)  I have been lucky enough to meet a wonderful group of people who also have POTS.

20) I am able to fully embrace my love of pop culture and television.

21)  I’ve finally learned how to swallow pills.

22) I have a unique perspective to bring to everything I do.

23) I have a new Australian best friend—who I met because she also has POTS—with a real AUSTRALIAN ACCENT!

24)  Since malls are pretty much out, POTS feeds my online shopping addiction.

25) I am no longer required to go on my family’s annual camping trip.

26) I can use POTS as an excuse not to go to parties and get drunk on the weekends. No one has to know that I’d actually just prefer to stay in with my friends in pajamas.

27) I have a solid sob story if I’m ever featured on reality TV.

28) Since I can’t carry heavy things anymore, I think it’s about time to trade in my 30-pound clunker of a laptop for a Mac. (Mom? Dad? Are you reading this?)

29) I can cross stand-up comedian off my list of possible careers. One down, 499 to go.

30) I can pronounce (and spell) words like ‘dysautonomia.’

RANDY PERTIET // FLICKR

When you imagine your ideal boyfriend or girlfriend, where do you find your inspiration? Celebrities: “a do-gooder classic gentleman like George Clooney…” “someone with a body like Angelina Jolie, man!”  TV characters: “That Detective Stabler from SVU is LITERALLY perfect.” “I would totally go out with Serena from Gossip Girl.” Or professional athletes: “Tom Brady is the sexiest man alive, and he’s such a good quarterback, too!” (that’s the example for both genders, I know too many guys who have more than just a man crush on Tom Brady) (Author’s Note: I do not find Tom Brady sexy, I have never seen someone I want to punch in the face more than Tom Brady.) Some of us, however, fall into the trap—or should I say proverbial well—of basing our expectations of love on Disney romances. Every girl is looking for her Prince Eric, but how realistic is that in terms of finding a partner in contemporary society? Most Disney relationships are based on unconditional love and a lack of real conversation. Literally, in The Little Mermaid, Ariel can’t speak to Prince Eric until the last half hour of the movie. What kind of relationship is that, other than a stalkerish, almost pedophilic (Ariel is sixteen, people.), fantastical bond? I am not willing to acknowledge the Little Mermaid sequel as examples where Ariel and Eric speak…why they make sequels to Disney masterpieces is beyond me. In Snow White, what interaction do Snow White and Prince Charming have besides singing to each other for about five minutes and then kissing at the end? Even in the later movies, where there is some semblance of character development, (for example, Hercules, where Meg has a brain and Herc is adorably socially awkward) the dynamic, realistic dimensions of relationships are forgone for idealistic, “happy endings”, which society recognizes as fantasy.

But why, then, do we continue to dream about such an impossibility?

Perhaps it is generational: our parents and grandparents grew up with movies and TV that were live action, without the heavy influence of Disney, but also in a time filled with much less fear and recognized danger, except for the Cold War. Our generation has been almost too exposed and has become too attached to the fantasy, which we cling to, maybe to cope with the failure of our parents’ marriages (with the increased divorce rate) or the unwillingness to face the harsh truths of the real world. Regardless, we cannot hope to nurture real romantic relationships with the unattainable expectations which come from Disney movies. It’s just too much. Women are not waist-less with perfect bodies and skin and flowy hair. (how was Ariel’s hair ALWAYS perfect—in the water and on land??) Girls are not always selfless, subservient, and do not always have perfect singing voices. Men are not always chivalrous or eternally devoted—people are human in contrast to the caricature portrayed in animated flaws. We all have bigger flaws than lying about our economic background (Aladdin) or narcissisticly fueled rage (Beauty and the Beast).  Flaws are what make us human, and should be accepted and, in some cases, embraced in terms of modern relationships.  Now, I’m not discounting the possibility of an actual Prince Charming existing, but I’m thinking it’s safe to say I won’t find a guy willing to give up his immortality for me like Herc just yet. Here’s to hoping…here’s to dreaming…but when it comes to real expectations in finding love, as hard as it may be, you should leave the magic to Disney and make some compromises, be open minded, and make a Herculean effort to just be yourself.

We all have those moments in life when our current activity just isn’t engaging enough. For some reason, this lecture/assignment/conversation cannot keep me in the moment; I’m forced to look elsewhere for entertainment.
For me, this occurrence isn’t a once in a while deal. I’d say it takes up a large portion of my day. You might claim I have the attention span of a toddler—and I probably do. But, I’ve somehow managed to make it to my sophomore year of college, so it can’t be too bad. Right?
Or maybe my incessant daydreaming is just the world telling me I need to be in a different profession because about 99% (or more) of my brain wanderings lead me to food. Is that bad for a political science major? Food is literally all I think about. What am I going to eat at my next snack? At my next meal? At my next stress-eating binge? What am I going to make for my lunch next week? How can I utilize the ingredients I already have so I don’t end up spending a fortune at Whole Foods? Can I steal something from TDR that will enhance the meal (probably not)? The questions never cease.
My most recent brain-fantasy baby was this beauty: a wheat berry salad with raisins and chopped almonds. But, it’s more exciting than it sounds. My brain went crazy for days about this lunch.

Before I came to college this semester, my mom and I made a trip to BJs (imagine the most gigantic grocery/convenience store on the planet, and everything comes in packages large enough for me to sit in). Among other products, we bought a massive bag of almonds and a massive bag of raisins. Now I have to use them. And recently, a lot of my brain-straying time has been dedicated to figuring out how to use these ingredients (and my six-pack of garbanzo beans—thank you BJ’s!).

My original idea involved just the wheat berries, almonds, and raisins, but I wanted to spice it up a little. Enter my awesome vinaigrette. My two and a half hour Politics in the US class allowed me develop a wonderfully sweet and savory dressing for my salad that includes olive oil, honey, balsamic vinegar, salt, and pepper. Okay, maybe I’m a little too proud, but it was so good! The chew from the wheat berries with the crunch from the almonds, the squish of the raisins, and the tangy burst of dressing is simply marvelous.
Anyway the moral of the story is that despite how inappropriate my interminable daydreaming is, it leads to yummy meals. So I’m not going to stop.

Here’s the recipe!
Ingredients:
-1 cup wheat berries
-1/2 cup raisins
-1/2 cup chopped almonds
-olive oil
-balsamic vinegar
-honey
-salt and pepper to taste

Directions:
1. Combine about 3 cups of water with the wheat berries and bring to a boil in a pot. Cover and let simmer for about 20 minutes. Taste the grains to make sure they are cooked but still al dente.
2. In the meantime, pour boiling water over the raisins in a heatproof bowl until they are just covered and leave them for a few minutes (this makes them nice and plump and juicy).
3. Then, make the vinaigrette. I kind of eye-balled it so I’ll give you approximations on the amounts, but just go with what looks good and tastes good. Combine 4 tbsp of olive oil, 2 tbsp of honey, 1 tbsp of balsamic vinegar, 1 tsp of salt, and a ½ tsp of pepper. Whisk together with a fork and set aside.
4. When the wheat berries are ready, drain them and put into a large bowl. Add the soaked raisins (drain them first) and the chopped almonds and stir together. Next, give the dressing another whisk before pouring over the salad. Mix everything together and add salt and pepper to taste.
5. Enjoy!

While the initial thrill of any given internship may provide a great deal of encouragement when entering the work force in college, what many students do not expect is entering the honey moon phase with any job, whether it be on campus, an internship, or even long term employment. My advice to give unto all my collegiate classmates, which I have experienced at many different offices, is that good or bad, your internship or job is a learning experience…just one of the many on your path to life.

No matter bumpy or smooth sailing, sometimes when Monday morning rolls around, we would give anything to just have a few extra moments under the covers! Snoozing that alarm clock one too many times just to avoid the shock of the early morning shower, and the intensely boiling hot cup of coffee that soon follows is just part of a package deal when interning or working on the regular.

Hard work can pay off... photo courtesy of Emily Roseman

It’s the idea that after finally selecting that outfit, you get to chase down an AU shuttle, just to let it drive speeding past. As if it guns the accelerator on purpose when it sees you bounding the corner. That moment when you miss the only bus or metro you need to make in order to arrive to work on time, then realize this sets to tone for the rest of the day…that you begin to question is it really worth it?

I am here to tell you, and thereby reaffirm all your incessant applying to law firms, big name companies, federal bureaus, and the biggest news agency in the world, that yes, your pain, anger, frustration, your ups and downs, your phone calls home, your moments drenched in the poring rain waiting for an AU shuttle …are so worth it.

First off…. we all know the big “AU WAS VOTED NUMBER ONE IN INTERNSHIPS IN THE NATION!” But a fancy shmnacy rating on News and Report does not get me past the 3:00 lull in my afternoon or pay my cable bill with a non-paying internship. But what it does do is allow your hard work to actually mean something. Even if you interned or worked for a company that was not a name brand field or area, you can leave knowing that you are ending this year with some experience. That’s something many students around the country truly can’t say.

Secondly, as work begins to pile up in the office…that side of your brain where rationality begins to kick in starts yelling, “HEY! When is your HOMEWORK going to be done? You know, the work that actually matters…the work that you NEED to do in order to GRADUATE?” Yeah we tend to push our academic lives to the wayside when our business lives begin to pick up. I love to relate my life at AU/ my internships to that amazing line in the Devil Wears Prada, “Let me know when your personal life begins to fail. It means you need a promotion.” I have been a bit of a living definition to the quote and mantra that work, as in class work, comes first, before office work.

We get a bit carried away when the glamour of a real job is in the running and we begin to truly succeed at what we are doing. The drive of gaining a job after school starts to set in, as does the constant need to gain more respect and accolades while interning. But as grades start to slip and things like friendships, relationships and even your personal health start to be pushed off into the back of your mind, we need to really stop and prioritize. Perhaps the best example I can give from my own life was during my time as a White House intern sophomore year. Aside from the daunting and incredible experience being named as an intern, I was thrust into a very competitive and mature setting. The youngest person in any department, I had to prove myself constantly that I deserved to be there just as much as the 35-year-old Yale Law grad that spent his summers de-mining the terrain in Northern Africa (not really, but you should see some of the bios my class candidates had…talk about intimidating). But on top of that, I was living with 3 other girls, in a dorm, not giving proper attention to my health, sleeping was the last on my to do list and by the middle of the semester I was the last person you wanted to talk to. It’s important to do well at work, and to make sure you are enjoying the most of it, but it’s probably more important to make sure school comes first as does your health. A healthy mind and body makes for a healthy working experience.

Next stop — the rest of your life // photo via Wikimedia

My final tidbit of interning trades and tips to give is to speak up. A pretty obvious one, but something that I didn’t appreciate until my fifth and most recent internship (yes…fifth…disturbing right?). I really had not understood the power your voice can have on your success as an employee. I am a broadcast journalism major and communicating is pretty much a given in any course or interaction among us journo kids. But what many of us tend to forget is that simply working well and completing a task until it is finished really does not impress anyone, nor does it present an area for you to move up and complete more tasks.

I specialize in editing video and in all my internships and jobs I am basically assigned roles and tasks of breaking down video that is shot by someone like a reporter and creating a new piece of video for the web or for air. Previously at internships I have assumed that someone of higher authority assigns me the task, I work, complete it and move onward to the next one. But until my most recent placement, I have been given much more room to work in a creative environment but also work at my own pace while paying attention to the details. With freedom to work and freedom to create my own pieces there is also freedom of acquiring my own work and asking for more. I have honestly never been exposed to an office environment like this, so I can understand the initial trepidation when approaching my co-workers to ask for more assignments.

I like to think that I am a bit of a veteran of the work place with the variety of internships I have acquired over the years. From DC to NYC to London my experiences have been incredible, but when I have found myself frustrated or thinking, “why did I ever apply for this?”…I realize in the end what I am working for. I know many of you have had just an awful day in the office or would trade anything in the world to have a “normal” college experience like kids across the country. Waiting for a tailgate in the freezing cold for the school’s football team or taking a coach bus to some wonderful event the school arranged sounds like a dream. Trust me, I’ve found myself daydreaming about the life I could have had. I could’ve just sat around, done nothing until senior year rolled around, when my heart would begin to drop with the idea of applying for my first internship.

But instead I attended a school that encourages its students to try harder, to wake up with a feeling of anticipation for the future and to be determined for every challenge that life presents us. We intern because we can and we intern because one day we will look back on all of this and say, it was all worth it.

My roommate and I have been having some trouble with our next-door neighbors. Our building’s walls are a new level of thin, and our neighbors are a new level of loud. They have parties in their room every weekend, and their—very loose–definition of ‘weekend’ includes Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Even when it’s just the two of them, they manage to make it a party. They are singing along to their middle-school-flashback music (thanks to them, I’ve had Sk8er Boi stuck in my head for almost a week—and thanks to me, you probably do now too), laughing loudly at whatever television show they are watching, and screaming for, from what I can tell, absolutely no reason almost every day from 9 a.m. until 1 a.m.

Unfortunately for me, quiet hours are from 11 p.m. until 7 a.m. As someone who needs twelve hours of sleep a night to function, and relative quiet while I’m awake so as not to get brain fog/headaches/just really, really annoyed, this doesn’t cut it. There’s not much I can do, but I decided to talk to them about my extenuating situation and see if making them aware of my situation would get them to be a bit more willing to quiet down.

Well, no seems to be the answer to my query.

I have always known that having an unknown, complicated disorder would mean that I wouldn’t be getting much sympathy from the general public. In fact, I’ve always known I wouldn’t be getting much of anything from the general public: not help, not accommodations, not concern. I can’t stand in lines anymore because I’ll either pass out or get too exhausted for the rest of the day, but telling the people in front of me, “I have POTS. Can I cut?” does absolutely nothing. Sometimes I say, “I have a fainting disorder and I’m feeling a little lightheaded. Do you mind if I cut?” But not only do I get a ‘no’ half the time, I feel like I’m betraying the POTS community that is working so hard to get POTS more well-known. I’m not getting what POTS actually is across to the people I’m looking to cut—they’ll just think it’s a fainting problem, and be none the wiser to what I actually go through each day.

Anyway, knowing how hard it is to get the intricacies of POTS across, I opted to tell my neighbors that I have a “chronic, debilitating illness” that requires me to get twelve hours of sleep a night, so if they wouldn’t mind quieting down, it would really help me. Their response?

“This is college. Sometimes I’m trying to nap and you guys are in here talking, and I can’t fall asleep. But do I tell you to quiet down? No. Because it’s college, and I’m respectful of the fact that other people are on different schedules, and that we’re living in a communal area, and so I just suck it up. You need to learn to suck it up.”

At this point, I’m annoyed at the fact that a) if I had said I have cancer instead of a “chronic, debilitating illness” they would have already agreed to be more quiet and b) I have POTS, and my body is physically unable to suck anything up, and it’s unfair to ask it to do so. The DYNA website says it best: “The aggravating, seemingly minor little things that go wrong each college day and the noisy irritating things which tend to go bump in the night in dorm housing situations — causing stress, disrupting routines and interrupting sleep – can all have a cumulative effect on a person with POTS.” But I press on.

First, I tell them that this is a two-way street, and if I’m asking them to be quiet at night, they can come to us when they are trying to nap, and we’ll quiet down. Then I try to explain to them why I’m unable to “suck it up.” I’m not asking for them to be silent 24/7—just for them to actually quiet down when we come ask them to, or maybe move to the lounge.

“Isn’t there a disabled floor that you can move to? I mean, don’t they have to accommodate you?”

At this point, I know it’s all over. I see that blank look in their eyes that comes with not having to fight through life. I know it well—before I got POTS, it’s how I looked. Ignorance really is bliss, and I was as ignorant about living with a disability as they are now.

They don’t know what it’s actually like to go through life with a disability. Sure, there are things that AU has to do for me. But there are hoops and more hoops and even more hoops to jump through to get the accommodations I need, and even then there’s only so much they can do for me. And no, for the record, there’s no disabled floor at AU. I checked at the end of last year when I was making living arrangements for this year.

Think about the last time you got pretty badly sick. It could have been the flu, or strep, or just an awful cold. It knocked you out for a week—that’s a week of classes you missed, plus a week of doing homework, a week of hanging out with your friends, and a week of doing the little housekeeping-type things you have to keep up with.

After a week, you’re feeling a little better—you’re not healthy by any means, but you’re well enough to return to civilization: you can go to class and do your work. But now, even though you’re only at 60%, you not only have to make it through your classes and get through your current work (which is hard enough), you have to do all the work you missed from last week. You’re operating at 60%, but you’ve got double the amount of work than usual. You’re already on a slippery slope and you have to deal with an avalanche. That’s what it’s like to live with POTS. Since you have to fight for every accommodation that’s supposed to make your life easier, it ends up just wearing you out more.

I don’t know what’s going to happen with my neighbors—if I had to bet, I would say that very little is going to change. And I know that I can’t really blame them. It is college, and if they want to be loud, they should be able to be loud from 7 a.m. until 11 p.m. (1 a.m. on the weekends). But I’m also not going to blame myself, and I’m not even going to blame POTS. So I have a problem with no real solution, and no one that I can really direct my anger towards.

If anything, this experience has really opened my eyes to the overwhelming ignorance surrounding disabilities, and has made me want to fight even harder to get POTS more well-known. So that’s what I’ll continue to do, and maybe one day, “I have POTS—can you please quiet down?” will be all that needs to be said to be effective.

Michelangelo’s “David” is perfect; no mortal man can compare.
For those of us who aren’t art aficionados, is a visit to Florence’s Galleria dell’Accademia to see the real slingshot hero worth the trouble when you can see several copies of him around the city for free?
Yes. If you do nothing else in Florence, visit “David.” Skip the rest of the Galleria dell’Accademia if you’re short on time, just make sure you see this marble man in the flesh.

FRANK CAMP / FLICKR

You’ll wander through hallway after hallway of gorgeous paintings, the brushstrokes blending together, but then, you’ll turn right out of a hallway and see him: a giant, 13-foot tall hunk of white marble, the most beautiful man in the world. With light streaming through a domed skylight directly above him, a natural halo makes “David” so arresting you will stop dead in your tracks to gape at his splendor. You’ll stand there, jaw around your knees, and marvel at the detail of the musculature, the sheer awesome size of this statue. You’ll traipse around the sculpture, admiring “David” from a full 360 degrees. Then, as if in a trance, you’ll settle onto one of the benches the museum has so generously provided – complete with a fantastic view of the world’s most attractive derrière.
You swear you’ll never look at a hunk of marble again — you’re in love.

LAUREN ALEXANDER / THE EAGLE

Is your life just like Nemo’s? Well, I’m sorry to hear you say no…mine is. If there is one thing you think about Australia – it’s probably either the Outback or The Great Barrier Reef. For my 2 week spring break, I headed out to the great city of Cairns. The city, located in the tropical Northern part of Queensland, is home to much of the Great Barrier Reef, rainforests, and a great night life. While there is a university in Cairns, most of the people there are tourists…and most of them are my age too.

PHOTO COURTESY OF WHITEHAVEN XPRESS

We woke up bright and early to adventure into the Great Barrier Reef. We hoped on our sweet boat, got some free breakfast, and signed up to…scuba dive. YEP. This was not part of our original itinerary, but we thought, why not? I mean, how many times can you say you went scuba diving in the Great Barrier Reef? My point exactly. So we signed our life away on a form and listened to an awesome marine bio presentation about the wildlife 15 meters below sea level. We strapped on our tanks, or jet packs, and practiced breathing underwater. It was such a strange sensation…and took heaps of focus. But I got it. We shimmied down into the water and down we went. We went 15 meters in 20 minutes but boy, oh boy was it worth it! I touched the coral and swam amongst sea turtles, sharks, a school of squid, and heaps of other amazing fish. The coral was neon and incredible and the clams were purple and so soft. There is actually no way to put into words what I saw, and no underwater camera could do it justice. Finding Nemo was pretty spot on. When I was down there I was in complete awe, I kept looking behind me and above me and all around and still couldn’t believe where I was.

We sailed around some more, got some lunch, tanned a bit, and went snorkeling. I held a sea cucumber and it was nasty. They are alive, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at it or holding it. It was like a big seaweed wrap filled with sand. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck.

The rest of my time in Cairns was super relaxing – just a bit of skydiving, tanning, and ice cream. I’m on the search for the best gelato – and the flavors here are amazing! The most popular flavors are passionfruit and honeycomb. Delish.

Sometimes—actually, all the time—it can be hard to decide what to buy your friend/family member/random-person-you-don’t-remember-being-friends-with a birthday gift. You must know what I mean. You get to that person’s birthday month and you vow to start looking for a gift. But you don’t. The day gets ever closer and you push off that trip to the mall. You finally decide you’re never going to get to the mall, so you give up and buy a gift card or start searching Amazon. You find the gift, but realize the person’s birthday is tomorrow so you have to give them an IOU: “Your gift is one the way! Just consider this belated gift an extension of your birthday!” (Birthday extension is an excellent excuse by the way.)
Well, let’s just say I’ve gotten tired of this pattern over the years. Certain people are easy; I can plan the person’s gift super-early and know that it will be super-awesome. Then there are my family members (ahem, father) that claim they don’t want a gift at all. “You’re my gift.” Please. Stop. You know I’m going to get you a gift so face the fact and give me a direction to head in. But no: it’s the same thing every year. Said person ends up with a random movie that I enjoy and hope he will watch with me.

MEREDITH MEDOWAY / THE EAGLE

Thus, recently, I have taken to going for a different kind of gift: food. In my birthday card, I promise to make the birthday boy/girl a meal of their choice. They can choose their favorite savory and sweet dishes and I will happily cook them their ultimate meal. I love this gift because it always works. Food always succeeds at putting a smile on people’s faces. This summer I made a birthday meal for my mom, my dad, and my aunt—all successes!
I’ve transferred my ideology to college, but with a few tweaks. Seeing as my free time and kitchen space has reduced significantly since being at home, I’ve had to adjust my food offerings. Now I offer the birthday girl/boy their favorite dessert only (they are usually just as appreciative).
The first person in my group of friends to have a birthday this semester was Amelia and she requested either a carrot cake or a chocolate pecan pie. I decided on carrot cake because the recipe I found was slightly less complex and didn’t require buying a bunch of pecans from Whole Foods that would no doubt empty my bank account.
This recipe is easy and delicious (I mean, it has cream cheese frosting). It’s also really pretty. (Unless you’re me and forget to slice the top off the bottom layer so that the second layer can sit on top instead let it be lopsided so you have to stick plastic knives in the top to prevent it from falling. Oops.)
Moral? If you don’t know what to by someone for their birthday, make them a cake! (And don’t make it lopsided).

You can find the recipe for this cake at http://lemonsandanchovies.wordpress.com/2011/05/07/an-ode-to-my-mother/

Enjoy!

The first love. When does it happen? Who is it shared between? How long does it last? Many would argue that college is often the perfect time to experience a first love. Luckily for me, I’ve already experienced a first love. With the Buffalo Bills and Buffalo Sabres.

DOUG KERR / FLICKR

“Wait, what? Your first love is with sports teams? Not even your first boyfriend?” you may ask, but yes, I proclaim that the Buffalo Bills and Buffalo Sabres were my first boyfriends and remain my “steadies” to this very day, despite a painful, agony-spurning loss to Cincinnati by the Bills and a grueling shootout loss to the Capitals by the Sabres on Friday. I am reminded of the movie Fever Pitch, when Ben Wrightman’s young student asks, “Let me put it this way. You love the Sox. But have they ever loved you back?” To which my response is, pertaining to the Bills and Sabres, yes, they have. No other person (or people) have brought me such joy (and, adversely, heartbreak) than those two teams. The happiest moment in my recent years (if not arguably of all time) was beating the Patriots in Week 3 this season. Other moments, like Jason Pominville’s shorthanded goal versus Ottawa in Game 5 in 2006, make me love the Sabres.

You know the song “Your Love Is My Drug?” That song has never applied to a person or crush for me. You know who it has applied to? The Bills and Sabres. Let’s break down some lyrics for a moment to prove my point: “Maybe I need some rehab, or maybe just need some sleep, I got a sick obsession, I’m seeing it in my dreams.”

I definitely need some rehab, as my floor concluded after I did a victory lap after the Pats-Bills game that I may have needed to be hospitalized. My heart was pounding faster than it ever had before, and I was literally shaking for the entire fourth quarter. I’m surprised I haven’t had a heart attack from all of the stress. I also have a sick obsession, as my roommate Sadie has come to learn; I wear Bills and Sabres shirts constantly and the better part of Sunday is spent watching pregame, the game, postgame, and listening to phone calls I make to my family to discuss the game at length (again look at Ke$ha, especially prevalent during losses: “I’m making those desperate calls, I’m staying up all night hoping, hitting my head against the wall.”) So, Sadie, I apologize for the sick obsession. Just wait till hockey season, though. Instead of every Sunday, it’s like two or three times a week. I apologize in advance.

myguitarzz / FLICKR

The other pinpoint lyrics Ke$ha unknowingly engineered with the Bills and Sabres in mind are, “I don’t care what people say/the rush is worth the price I pay/ I get so high when you’re with me /but crash and crave you when you leave.” I’m thinking about how ecstatic I was last week with the win over New England and how anguished/defeated/enraged over the loss against Cincinnati. I also pretty much hate the summer since there’s no football or hockey. I crash and crave them — especially, in the past eleven years, during NFL postseason, cause the Bills are never there.  Every emotion I assume one would feel towards one’s love I feel for the Bills and Sabres. I’m angry and sad. I’m happy and excited. They bring me gifts, like starting 4-0 in 2008 (this is the Bills), and disappoint me by missing the playoffs that year. They commit to winning by starting Trent Edwards, but don’t follow through as he crashes and burns. And now, the happy “new relationship” glow is back, the loveliness is back, as the Bills have one of the highest scoring offenses in the league. The Sabres’ new owner genuinely cares about the Sabres and the city of Buffalo having a championship. I am starting to depend on both teams more heavily, and they sure as hell influence my happiness and well being and attitude following a win or loss.

So sorry, gentlemen, I just don’t have time for a real boyfriend right now. I’ve got two pretty strong partnerships going, and I just don’t know if I can squeeze in anyone else or compromise any quality time with them. After all, you never forget your first love, and I can bet that I won’t forget the glee and agony they bring me any time soon.