Likes & Favorites: Adulting (part 2)

September 27, 2015July 28, 2017Leave a comment

Last week I defined adulting. This week I have a few thoughts on the subject:

1. Going grocery shopping on a Sunday is like the Hunger Games. With everything being restocked, you have a slim chance of beating that suburban mom to that last container of hummus.

2. You don’t know the true meaning of “being broke” until you experience that pure joy of seeing your paycheck hit your bank account… only to see it quickly vanish because it’s time to pay rent.

3. Saturdays are for adventures. Sundays are for napping.

4. You’ll miss college in some regards but not having homework= heaven.

5. Post grad, you dread Monday’s more, but Friday’s are even sweeter.

6. You still save extra money to buy alcohol.

I’m sure I’ll have additional thoughts on the adulting matter, but for right now, here are the likes & favorites of the week.

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The 7:29 Train

September 15, 2015July 28, 20171 Comment

The 7:29 train is always 3 to 7 minutes late. By the time it reaches Manayunk, it’s about half full. Most of us getting on are under the age of 30 and almost all of us are caffeinated.

A couple weeks ago, I swapped my student ID for a transpass, thus beginning my daily routine on the train. I can’t really complain; my commute is about 20 minutes and I spend it listening to music or people watching.

I do a lot of the latter. I blame my qualitative research professor for instilling this fascination with observation in me. In her class, we completed a semester long project where we picked a setting to essentially people watch for over 20 hours. I picked Starbucks, of course, and although the setting was basic, my research conclusions were fascinating. I wrote my term paper on the notion of “familiar strangers,” the concept that complete strangers can become part of an informal community, just by routinely showing up.

I think I found my familiar strangers.

The 7:29 train has its own cast of characters, just as the Starbucks in Bryn Mawr did.

First there’s the delicate smoker. She always stands at the entrance of the stairway, smoking a cigarette and glancing at her watch. She wears light sweaters–exclusively in pastel hues–that compliment her lithe frame. Sometimes a black cursive black tattoo peaks out, right underneath her collar bone. Every day, I wonder what it says.

Then there’s the Bucknell wrestling coach. He usually gets on the train right ahead of me. His wardrobe consists of different Bucknell polos and khakis, and he carries a briefcase. He’s athletically built, as a wrestling coach should be I guess, and I mentally named him “Chad.” He’s probably named something less stereotypical. I should probably stop thinking in cliches.

I like to sit by the door, as does a blonde woman who loves to read her Kindle. Her Louis Vuitton bag has a handmade string bracelet attached to it and she gets off at the same station as me. Every day, without fail, she digs out her wallet and selects a number of bills and a specific amount of change before our stop. Once she gets off the train, she goes to Dunkin’ Donuts, presumably to get her regular order. I bet she’s a latte kind of gal.

The serious ticket master always comes around after the third stop and makes it a point to tell everyone that tickets are cheaper to buy at the station. Two business girls from Penn State usually have the best clothes and gossip in hushed tones all the way into Philly. Sometimes there’s a little boy, whose sneakered feet don’t touch the ground, and his mom lets him hold a metal Starwars lunchbox that holds a variety of action figures.

These are my familiar strangers. They’re part of my routine and I notice when they’re gone.

Sometimes I wonder what they think about me. Maybe they notice the brunette girl who rather wear flip-flops than flats, new to the working world but a Starbucks enthusiast, the newbie to the train who’s just trying to fit in. Or maybe they don’t notice me at all, because I am after all, a stranger.

To everyone else in the world–and maybe to one another–the riders of the 7:29 train are just passerby’s in the commotion of commuting. But to me, they’re part of my daily routine and now part of my story. I may never meet them, but they mean something to me just because they show up.

Likes & Favorites: “Adulting,” Defined

September 13, 2015July 28, 20172 Comments

Adult•ing (verb): The act of trying to be an adult, categorized by a general state of confusion, freedom, happiness & exhaustion, with an onset about age 22 or 23. Similar to freshman year of college, except now you’re just a freshman of real life.

Hi, my name is Kasia and I’m currently adulting.

This term “adulting” has recently popped up among my friends, and I feel like it perfectly describes where we are right now. We are not really adults, we’re merely pretending we are because we have no clue what we’re doing. “Adulting” is not the same as “being an adult.” Adulting is being professional during the work week and then acting like a college kid on the weekends.

I realize why most people fear adulthood. It’s when you have to have all your sh*t together all. the. time. Gone are the days where you can sleep through your 8:30 class, throw on sweatpants and drown your fatigue in lattes (okay, we can still do that last one). Now we have to show up, work hard and be responsible.

I’m not saying I don’t enjoy it. I’m just saying adulting is a weird place to be in. Every adult doesn’t remember “adulting” but every college grad wants it to run its course.

Maybe it’ll all make sense eventually (here’s hoping right?). But until then, here are some of the things that I’ve liked while going through this (weird/fun/confusing) transition.

The Birchbox for clothes

Adults need good clothes right? And when do I really have time to shop? Luckily, there’s something called StitchFix and it’s amazing. Basically you fill out a comprehensive style profile, throw in your Pinterest style board (we all have one) and a *~stylist~* picks clothes for you and sends it to your door. It’s a $20 styling fee that goes to your first purchase, then you pay for what you keep and send back the rest for free. It’s basically perfect. Click here and get started because you don’t have an excuse not to.

Healthy ice cream

Summer may be over but that doesn’t mean the heat is. I was really craving ice cream one night but didn’t feel like going out to WaWa to get some (#struggles), so I created my own ice cream. Bonus: it’s healthy.

{Ingredients: 1 banana | Handful of strawberries | 1 cup of milk| Coconut flakes (optional)| Chocolate chips (optional)}

Prep time: 5 minutes | Cook time: 5 minutes

1. Peel and slice the banana. Cut up the strawberries. Put in a freezer bag and freeze for a couple hours.

2. Throw fruit into a blender with the milk. Add coconut (or other frozen fruit!). Blend well.

3. Put back into the freezer for about an hour.

Easy. Delicious. Healthy.

Spontaneously American

Sometimes I do this thing when I make spontaneous decisions while I’m slightly under the influence of alcohol (See here for an example). Last weekend was Made In America, a two-day music festival in Philly and this year Beyonce was headlining. On Friday night, I bought tickets for Saturday to go with Ryan, his best friend Gabes and the ever fabulous Krista. No, I couldn’t really afford to go, but yes it was worth the memories. Adulthood means responsibility, but without spontaneity, what’s the point of being young?

clique.

I love you like xo

BOW DOWN

sister Krista

sister selfies

found my favorite

the two best guys you’ll ever meet

My big girl apartment

Big moves last weekend for my big girl apartment. In approximately 8 hours, my family and I (with the help of Haley!) assembled a bed frame, IKEA dresser and couch. And then Haley and I bought a rug from the Home Depot. Pro tip: hit up the Depot if you’re looking for quality yet cheap rugs. It’s literally the softest rug I’ve ever felt, btw.