So, there has been this thing going around, and I want to play, too! Previous participants include the lovely Tipp, Michelle, Brandy, Brooke, and MissK, so you know this was a boat that I had to get on. If you haven’t already, you definitely need to do this– having just finished mine, I was pleasantly surprised at how much my mood had improved. So nice to remind oneself of how much there is to be thankful for, you know, in a way that does not make others want to gag or anything. Oh! And don’t forget: this puppy has to be about you, not a single person you know– no husbands, daughters, pets, or moms. The point is to write about how you define the things you love, not how they define you. (Although I suppose ultimately that is also what ends up happening. Anyway.)
I love being a girl. I love that I have the power to choose the way I want to live my life, to change my haircolor on a whim, and to constantly surprise myself and others with what I am capable of. I love not feeling guilty for loving my eyelash curler, and I love knowing how to successfully use a hammer and a level. I love Philosophy Falling In Love perfume, Ponds moisturizer, and DuWop Lip Venom. I love deciding to scrap the beauty routine on a Sunday and sit on the couch with a ponytail and sweatpants (American Apparel, if I must). I love that I have a very particular routine during which everything is scrubbed, moisturized, brushed, and treated before I can begin a normal day—it helps me get through the first part of my morning and out of the apartment at a reasonable time.
I love organization and office supplies. I love file folders, Post-Its, and Dr. Grip pens. I love the smell of a brand new notebook, waiting to be scribbled into. I love cutting and pasting, writing reminders to myself, and thinking of new ways to arrange things. I love color-coding, cross-indexing, and alphabetizing.
I love food. I love shopping for it, washing, opening, preparing, and creating new things with it. I love that the sum of a recipe is generally greater than its parts, and I love each and every part that goes into my favorite things to eat. I love cooking for myself, and for other people. I love inviting people into my home to feed and entertain them, and I love to bring food places, especially work, where I am convinced that I can continue to curry favor through cupcake-giving. I love always having a snack on hand, because you know what I am like when I don’t eat (that is to say, Crazy Lady From Hell).
I love California in the spring and fall (although I can’t really complain too much about winter and summer). I love the sense of purpose that the fall brings, even though I have been out of school for a couple years and have nothing to do with summer reading lists or new syllabi. I love transitioning from too-warm and sweaty in the summer to just right and crisp in the fall, when I can finally break out sweaters for the aesthetics as opposed to plain old need. I love changing out of those same sweaters in the spring and back to the flip-flops that await me like old friends, their quiet slapping sound following me as I walk to my car and open the sunroof, which I can do because, dammit, I live in California and it’s practically the law. I love to sing along with songs on the radio that I love to pretend were written about me. I love going to the beach before it becomes miserably hot, not to swim (heaven forbid!), but to take a book that I’ve already read and skim through its dog-eared pages while I make sure that my beach snacks are carefully guarded from scheming seagulls. I love reading, becoming so engrossed in the world created in those pages that I can tune out everything around me.
I love nights out with friends almost as much as I love to stay in on Friday nights. I love to talk too loudly because of ambient bar noise, to high-five when they play “Sweet Caroline” and “Livin’ on a Prayer,” to feel the effervescence of my gin and tonic, slightly spiked with lime. I love to wait all week just to have that “night in,” even though the previous four or five nights have also been “in.” I love to scroll through our movie selection and take 40 minutes to choose the perfect one, or cycle through the entire weeks’ episodes of Martha, just because I can.
I love sleep. I love falling asleep, and I love waking up after a full night’s sleep. I love that I rarely need my alarm clock to wake me up, and I love that I don’t have to set my alarm for a crazy-early time. I love taking up too much of the bed, kicking off covers in the middle of the night. I love my seemingly never-ending parade of pajama pants.
I love traveling and being in new places. I love to fly, I love to drive, and I love trains. I love the sense of possibility when I pull my suitcase off the baggage carousel. I love adjusting my schedule to the rhythm of being away from home, to the rhythm that places unknown possess. I love seeing and buying brands of food, clothing, and toiletries that I am completely unfamiliar with, just to make sure that I am fully experiencing everything. I love to people-watch, and to imagine the world that exists in everyone that inhabits this new, strange place.