*UPDATE* The list of things I need to own before I can be considered an adult includes (but is not limited to):

-A food processor

-A blanket for my bed that isn’t referred to as “the lone wolf” or “grandma’s sleeping bag that she never got back because I don’t want to freeze and die.”

-A wrench.

-A car that has side mirrors that aren’t screwed back on by me.

-A savings account.

-A plant that lives longer than a month.

-Internet that does not belong to a random neighbor named Linda.

-An extra anything. Anything at all. Bonus points if it’s for emergencies.

-A filter for my Brita.

-More than a week's worth of food in my kitchen at one time.

-Health Insurance.

-A normal sized computer.

-A phone not held together by tape.

-A bike that isn't made for a 6'2" man. (I'm 5'4" on a good day. and a girl)

-Matching winter gloves.

-A piece of furniture that wasn't previously owned. Just one.

-An e-reader that doesn't have a crack that keeps me from reading the last words in the first 3 sentences of every page that I acquired trying to read and hula hoop at the same time.

-The sense to not hula hoop and read at the same time. Especially on an electronic device.

-Frequent flyer miles.


...yeah, it's going to be a while.

Writing meaningful things in cards is hard and I refuse to do it.

Greeting cards are the bane of my existence.

No. That isn't true. There are some extremely funny cards that I get excited to give to people. I just want to say "I am so funny and original, and I shall show you via mass produced card" along with whatever placated sentiment is due.


 What is the bane of my existence is being expected to leave a little piece of my soul inside this card. The card already said something amusing and/or to the point. You are my friend/loved one/unicorn. Lets continue being friends/ loved ones/person and unicorn. Love, me. And I can draw fun little pictures if need be, or write a random tidbit. Just not with my soul. I sold it a lot in college for various things. I don't even know where it is.


The worst is when multiple people are writing in a card, and everyone has a cute little paragraph talking about all sorts of crazy things that they have been saving in their heart for this specific moment.

Then, it is your turn.

You read all the other personal sentiments that are all perfect in every way.

Shit.

My turn: "I like friends. You are one. That one time happened. HAHAHAHAHAH. Oh, you. -Tiffi"

This isn't even my knee jerk habit of making things awkward just because. I am trying, or used to, but vow to no longer. It never works anyways. In fact, I vote from now on all of society turns and runs in the other direction with their arms in the air every time they see another human.  It's the only way to fix this.

I  do have a couple friends who like to send rediculous cards that make no sense to people for no reason, and I like this.  Random ridiculous things make me happy and cards that fit this description are no exception.
My amazing friend, Bdyer, who lives across the country, has sent me two cards in the last two months, and I must say she has perfected the art of card giving. In the Christmas card she drew a cat that was also a rainbow and said "rainbow cat says hi"  I don't know about you, but to me rainbow cats say we will be friends forever in a much less awkward way than reading a paragraph about how we will be friends forever.

The second one was a birthday card a couple weeks late, which somehow made me love it more. It said "sorry the card was late" as well as birthday sentiments and such. Neither of these cards made me uncomfortable.  They actually both made me extremely happy and thoroughly amused.

Bdyer also was one of 2 senders of 'broken Tiffi' cards when I had a broken leg. The other was my roommate. He wasn't my roommate at the time, he lived out of state. Now that I think about it mailing it to me as my roommate would have made my life. I guess he didn't think ahead far enough to plan taking a month off grad school, moving back to be my roommate when I broke my leg so he could send his own roommate a card in the mail. His bad.

Expressing feelings make people uncomfortable, so why does it make people feel weird when they aren't included inside these things?  It's okay when the card mixes awesomeness with some sentiment. But let's leave it to the professionals.  They already said it. No need to add. I promise.

And when I get one, am I supposed to read it in front of you? Run away immediately so we can knowingly look at each other later like "Yah, man, I get your feelings. We are now closer." Open it when I see a sign? Burn it because I'm scared of the consequences of knowing what is inside?

What about when I give a card? Can I write on the envelope "open when I am at least 500 feet away and will be for a long time?"

I'm stressed out right now, and there is no prospective card writing in my future.

Ok, I'll admit that me plus expressing feelings equals sadface.

But this cannot just be awkward for me.  I get that it's weird that I get all dude-like with feelings and would rather punch a guy in the arm and have an arm wrestling contest than talk about my feelings and what not. Especially since I am an artistically inclined person and I am prone to (if not required to be) being passionate about things and, you know, having emotions and stuff, but having and acting on feelings and sitting and talking about them are different. One I like, one I don't. I know it has to happen sometimes to make society work or whatever, but let's do it with verbal words that never need to be read again.

Also, being put on the spot can make me seem like the biggest blubbering idiot ever.  In fluid thought, I know all sorts of things about myself and how I feel about things. When asked specific things it's like I've just been hit with the Men In Black flashy thing:

Someone being normal: "Hey! What's your favorite color?"

Me: "What?! Color?? Where did that come from? ....ummm.....7? No...couch! No...purple! Dammit! I hate purple. I understand if you defriend me."

Now imagine feelings.

And add being put on the spot with expected emotion knowing the recipient can read it however many times, and others may read it as well. So much pressure.

This last fall, I bought a present for my friend's bridal party online, printed a picture of said present, forgot the picture and drew a picture of the present on the card. Everyone loved it. In her thank you card (Cards always warrant more cards, they are the gateway drugs of paper stock.) she even mentioned that she didn't know if the drawing or the present was better.  The one and only time I won at card writing.

 I think I also shared the sentiment "You are getting married!" I may have also mentioned that I was a bridesmaid. I doubt she forgot, but I feel like it proved that we are close.

Prelude to "I once briefly dated a man who was also dating a vampire stripper" or "That time I moved into the dorms a week early before my freshman year"

Before college started I came to IU a month early for a program where incoming students can take a 3 credit hour class in 3 weeks to get acclimated to the campus and college life.  Otherwise known as the reason frat boys move back 4 weeks early. But that is a story for another time.

This program ended a week before classes started, so everyone in it was permitted to move into their permanent dorms a week early. This terrified me. Going from a dorm full of kids my age and in my exact situation to an empty dorm building to hang out alone was not my favorite.  Somehow between panic attacks and calling my mom to see if she missed me enough to want me to come home for a week (nope) I made it to Read, my new home.

Once there I was quickly comforted by the fact that I now lived in one of four of the huge rooms  (no idea why) every floor had with a full bathroom and secret 10 foot hallway to be shared with just one other room. This dorm is shaped like an X and we were in the hub, aka the middle of the X. My roommate, suitemates and I would come to be referred to affectionately [and not so affectionately] as the hub girls.

Anyways, being in the middle of the X my window was angled toward the guy's hub room on another leg of the X. Low and behold there was life in there. I was not alone! This is becoming the exact opposite of the desolate sadness I imagined this dorm to behold!

Almost simultaneously with this discovery I also discovered Dilo moving in to the room attached to mine. She was moving in early because her parents had high anxiety about her moving all the way to Indiana from the East Coast, and they would like to get her extremely settled in. Her mom is part Martha Stewart, and was making sure her daughter was going to be comfortable. She ensured this with lots and lots and lots of things with lots and lots and lots of color. And the ever important lifetime supply of Rice-A-Roni. If it weren't for Mrs. Dilo, and the McDonald's in our basement that took meal points, and the Hoosier cafe on the main floor, and the cafeteria also inside our building, and the food court in the next dorm over, we would have starved.

It's like they didn't even want me to go to class. Freedom, boys, tons of food that is terrible for me, my discovery of alcohol and its ability to make life worthwhile, AND a giant room with a secret hallway/personal bathroom combo pack. Not to mention randomly assigning me people who remain on my list of my absolute favorite people in the world.

I'm surprised I didn't get the plague just to even this out.

Ok, back to the story.  Remember when I said in the Eigenmann sign post that Dilo didn't like me for a while? It was because of my first impression. The meeting went something (not word for word) like this:

Me: Hiiiiiii! I'm Tiffi! Yay, I'm so happy there are people here! I thought I'd be all alone.

Dilo: Hi. *uncomfortable stance*

Dilo's Mom: HELLO TIFFI! NICE TO MEET YOU! WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE SO EARLY?! WHERE IS YOUR FAMILY! YOU ARE SO BUBBLY!

Me:  I KNOW! I was part of IFS, I'm here alone, I was scared but there are boys in the window! Wow, you have a lot of stuff!

Dilo's Mom: WE HAVEN'T EVEN BEGAN SHOPPING YET! WHAT COLORS DO YOU LIKE? YOU NEED A SHOWER CURTAIN! YOU SHOULD YELL AT THE BOYS IN THE WINDOW!

Me: *also a little overwhelmed now, but still more excited than not* Yes! I should!

Dilo: *silently soaking this all in, terrified.*

Me: *I, of course, don't notice Dilo is overwhelmed.  I have yet to find the world outside of me, insead mostly focused on positive reinforcement from Mrs. Dilo.*

Dilo's Mom: Well, we have to be going, yell at those boys!

So, they took off, and little did I know were parked directly below our windows. I marched myself straight into my room, opened my window and yelled "HEY! Boy in the window! What are you doing?!" to which he responded "HEY! Girl in the window! Playing UNO! Come over!"

Dilo and family were directly under me witnessing this entire thing.  This secured my place in Mrs. Dilo's heart, and almost shut me out of Dilo's for eternity. As I said before at the time I was so completely unaware of any affect that me, my actions, my loudness, or the fact that the rest of our suitemates meeting me wearing a bikini (and all Dilo would see me in for the rest of the week) would have on anyone. Poor little overwhelmed Dilo.

To be fair it was over 90 degrees, we had no a/c, and one of the shiny new boys in the window showed me where the IU outdoor pool was and took me there daily. I was moved in and had no TV, what else to do?

Back to the boys in the window: this single transaction played a huge role in shaping my entire college career.  Inside this window was 2 boys who were good friends my freshman year, a girl who became one of my best college friends* and who introduced me to one of my best friends for my entire life (she and I also hated each other upon meeting, but it was a case of mistaken identity and only lasted one meal), and most importantly [for this story] the man whom I semi-dated who was also dating a vampire stripper.  This entire fiasco began and ended the week before classes started. He is also why I was always in a bikini and everyone hated me.


*After making her cry a lot freshman year. For some reason people who I was really mean to freshman year learned to love me anyways. Today, 9 years later, my roommate is the boy who coined the term "Hateful Tiffi" freshman year. To be fair, they were both really annoying, and always refused to leave my dorm room.