This past weekend I made black bean and sweet potato enchiladas for a potluck at my friend Zach's apartment.





A medium sized group of English grad students came over and watched the first and third Indiana Jones movies.




It was a good time. I forgot how much I kind of love young Harrison Ford.




Zach says that there are a handful of men that dudes stereotypically try to model themselves after. For example, Clark Gable and Humphrey Bogart. He suggested to me that Harrison Ford is also one of them--but I'm not sure. Wouldn't it be more specifically Han Solo or Indiana Jones? And I think I would go for Han Solo over Indiana Jones any day... despite Indy's being, yes, a college professor.

Anyway, back to the pot luck: the enchiladas were a success. I helped Zach make the guacamole that Alex and I used to take to the caf for burrito night at Hendrix. Bethany made these fucking amazing shortbread cookies with rosemary that just blew everyone away. I could get used to these pot luck-y functions: I get lots of compliments, I don't have to eat leftovers for a whole bloody week.

On Sunday I spent the day at Java House, being super-productive with Carmen, John (a first year)'s roommate and also a fictionist in the workshop. We then made some curry and a salad for dinner at her house and watched three episodes of Doctor Who and talked to Gizmo, the dog they are dog-sitting, with British accents.

All in all a pretty decent first weekend--although, I will admit, there were times when it was quite trying. I am not at all free from my insecurities. I need to work to get past the notion that if I am not spending time with others that it is a failure of some kind on my part.

Woke up today to this wintry mix:



Last night I made sweet potato and black bean enchiladas for a potluck over at Katy and Joaquin's house. The enchiladas were accompanied by brie and raspberry jam on crackers, a blue cheese and spicy sausage pizza, homemade bread, and a lamb skewer. And a good amount of PBR and whiskey. Later I got gloriously drunk with Jeff and apparently said everything with a British accent for hours on end. I don't quite remember.

At 8 when I woke up to get some water I had a pounding headache that Advil luckily took care of and went back to sleep. For breakfast we made leftover bacon with applesauce oatmeal pancakes, which I am sure is not helping my diet. Then again, neither is all that whiskey I drank. Oh well.

of strange color matches and karaoke night

hat: Forever 21
cardigan: JCrew, thrifted
tights: MP via Sock Dreams
shoes: Naturalizer
dress: thrifted, Blue Velvet ATX
necklace: Parts and Labor, ATX
belt: JCrew outlet

I'm not sure that lime green and bright yellow are supposed to go together, but DAMN IT they are going to be going together in this outfit, which is comprised largely of wool. Wool tights, wool cardigan (new today from Second Act--on sale for FIVE DOLLARS). Wool coat, when I leave the apartment.

The plans for tonight are to eat dinner at The Motley Cow, an upscale Iowa City restaurant that my friends and I have been ogling longingly for months upon months. We decided it was time that we resigned ourselves to the pricey entrees and tried it out. After this, we are heading down to the American Legion and meeting up with some Workshop folk for karaoke! The American Legion is a close relative of the VFW, for all of you readers with Conway, AR experience. Only, there is dancing. Like, a ton of it, and to Madonna and Hootie and the Blowfish instead of the electric slide. It is kind of one of my favorite things ever. Recently (read: for the past month) I have felt increasingly desperate to just get whiskeyed and sing and dance my little Lauren heart out. So tonight, it is going to happen. Brace yourselves, friends whose cell numbers I have who can receive text messages.

You think it's like this, but it's really like this:

A new year. I want to resolve to update this blog regularly. I love reading blogs and I want to have one, so why is it so difficult for me to commit to one? I think that sometimes so much will happen that I will get exhausted just thinking about writing about it. Which is certainly the case, I feel, for the past month or so.

I wrote my final papers. Grades posted. A, A-, and a B.

I was in a pseudo-relationship with Jeff, a 27-year-old poet from the Writer's Workshop. After a packed month full of Workshop gatherings, bars, and karaoke-ing mixed with the final papers, we decided (well, he proposed and I accepted) to take a few steps back. We'll see where that takes us when the semester starts back up again.

Winter break: spent 2.5 weeks in Austin amidst a very gloomy house. Strongly suspect parents are having marital troubles that are almost solely on my mum's side and originate from the age difference between them that becomes more and more pronounced as time goes by.

Took the train back to Iowa City, where I am reading and redecorating. Waiting for the others to return.

Trying, always and again, to lose weight.

Snow.