It Actually Happened

Well guys you're looking at the newest Mountain Brook Alumni. Don't ask me how I feel about that because I'm not quite sure. Mainly I'm so bogged down in thank you notes, graduation present drop off, college orientation prep, work, and rec organization that I haven't a had a second to collect my thoughts. 

I'm still in shock that I walked across and the world didn't collapse right then and there. But when I exited Samford (where our graduation was held), I was choking back tears and looking around like a hysterical maniac. ME, Allison Ingram, a high school graduate? Stop it. That feeling continued all night as I was drowned in family, friends, and fellow graduates, some who were elated to be out of the "hell-hole" that they claimed MBHS to be, and some who were like me. Overwhelmed. Sad. Confused. Nauseous. And at the bottom of all those emotions, there was a little seeping feeling of...je ne sais pas quoi...excitement?

Excitement.
A summer ahead of me of filled with college orientations, room design, roommate meeting (oh yeah guys, I'll introduce you to the roomies the second we're comfortable enough around each other so that I can over analyze and exploit them on the world wide web), and college prep in general. South Africa, possible mother-daughter Boston trip, and North Carolina. A summer of working in my simple corner of Crestline, observing the passerbys and exploring the adventures that lie in children's clothing. A summer filled with reading books I actually want to read, not pointless books for school.

Excitement.
Moving into a new home. Making new friends. Finding a new place. Doing all the things I longed to do in high school, but didn't possess the courage put myself out there for. Recreating myself into the person I would most like to be, whoever that may be.

Excitement.
Reunions with my friends who aren't going to Tuscaloosa with me. Visits to Greenville, Charleston, Nashville, Auburn, Oxford, Starkville, and everywhere in between. Spend the night and weekender guests to room 1108 in Tutwiler. Christmas break. Shat that will go down.

That's when I realized that the whole time I was aching and moping about graduation, I was thinking about leaving my friends, my home, my community and I wasn't thinking about what is ahead. And now that I am, the ahead isn't looking too shabby. Who would have thought it??

One of the strange things about the inner workings of my mind is that I have random phrases that stick to me. They may be song lyrics, movie quotes, random jumblings, or Bible verses. For instance, when I have a stressful week in school, I keep thinking about Squidward, who says, "Do you think a fall from this height would be enough to kill me?" when Spongebob has shrunk him with Mermaid Man's shrink ray. When I started waking up early to run, it was, "God is a God of mornings." When the new year came around, I reiterated to myself, "You were made for more."

And for some reason, I have been thinking a lot recently, "The world is your oyster, starshine." I know, it's one of the weirder ones, but think about it. At first, I thought it came to me just because I was at the beach and wanted to annoy my friends with my early rising, but now it makes sense. I have the whole world in front of me, literally. I should be oozing with exuberance about the next couple years, so why in the world am I wasting my time mourning over what has past?

One of my friends asked me at graduation (when one of my friends and I were having a mild panic attack pre-ceremony), "Do you have any regrets from high school?" That's a tricky question. Do I wish I had been more involved, or worried less? Kind of. I thought about it, and I realized that yes there were things I wished were different, but that's all apart of the process. That's the beauty of high school! Just like Nick Saban has his process on the road to a national championship, so am I in the making. Things weren't perfect, and some outcomes I didn't prefer, but that's a decision already made in advance for college. I learned and I grew. It's funny, the things that weren't absolutely "perfect" in high school are the things I'm most excited having the possibility for in college.
So, I told my friend that no I didn't have any regrets. Not one. I walk out of the doors with experience, not baggage. And he replied, "Then what do you have to be sad about?"

Sorry for a long rant-blog today. It wasn't originally intended to be, but lo and behold, look where we are now. You're probably confused and concerned about my inability to make coherent emotional sense, but I promise I'm as stable as one who is driving to the beach in 9 hours and is still not finished packing can be. But those of you who did, thanks for sticking around for the end.Y'all are rockstars.

To the moon and back,
Allie

"I might not have gone were I intended to go, but I think I ended up exactly where I needed to be."
- Douglas Adams

Graduation Week

So sorry bloggers, this week has been insane because I am graduating on Thursday.

Wait. Rewind that last part.

I am graduating on Thursday.

This isn't happening.

This past week I've taken three AP tests. I might have passed government, but we all knew there was little to no hope for Economics or French. Actually, take that back on French, because on the national French exam I placed 7th in the state. Who would have thought that I, the failure of the French class and only one of three not in the top 10%, would have done better than everyone but two other people? Apparently my teacher didn't either because it took her a moment to collect herself before telling me. You could call it a mixture of shock and pure amusement. 

Last day of English class!

I snuck out twice. And they were on school nights! Mom, I know you read these posts so don't be alarmed...technically one time was the senior prank that you knew about because 15 people gathered at our house at 11:20 to go. The other was when I left from 10:30-12:30 Tuesday night to go hunt armadillos. If I didn't confirm my lameness by just announcing to the world wide web (and my mother) that I snuck out and I was so excited at my "rebellion", the part about hunting armadillos definitely did. 

My last day of school was spent having a dance party in my first period AP English classroom, crying when saying goodbye to my French class (this would be the same one I've had for six years) and my math teacher, and finally, taking the AP economics exam. Yeah I know that last part was a super annoying last part of high school, but I almost enjoyed myself for two hours of drawing cartoon figures of Mr. Darp in my free response booklet. What else would I spend my time doing? It's not like I actually understood econ enough to complete any of my questions fully. Whatever, long hair don't care. 

I've gone to oodles of graduation parties and I realize that those are one of my favorites of all parties. Sundresses, May weather, cute and overdone decorations done by adoring moms, and of course, food. 

I had a family shin dig yesterday after church and I got to have alllll my favorites, including an Olexa's cake. 

Shrimp and grits, collard greens, and a baby blue salad. Yummyyyyyy.

Awards day was Friday, and not only did I get to sleep until 10 wake up to the sound of my family running around my house at 6:45, but wait for it, wait for it, I GOT AN AWARD!
Not a big award, I just got to stand up for the French thing. But that's big time for me because it never happens! I spent the rest of the day eating red velvet cheesecake at Cheesecake Factory, napping, watching Criminal Minds, going to a graduation party, and finally, night swimming, which everyone knows is the best time to swim.

Currently, it is a Monday morning and I am sitting eating granola and strawberries with a cup of coffee at V. Richards with Aldog. I am up to date on my thank you notes, I ran a new route this morning, and I have no plans for today for the first time in a long time. I might go fishing at noon, I might go to Pilates at 4:30, but I basically am on my own time schedule. You could definitely say that all is right with the world.

To the Moon and Back,
Allie

Dear Sophomore Self,

Things that I Would Like To Tell My Sophomore Self

Enjoy every single one of the JV football games. Yes, you cheer for gooberball and yes, if there was a way to have a negative number of fans at a game, then that's where it would happen. But you'll never forget all the fun, stupid stuff you got to do because you didn't care about who was watching.

Dress up for dress up days. Cool people really do it, and someday you'll be giving death glares across the mall to the sophomores who don't.

Try not to make your ride to school so late. It really isn't the highlight of their day to wait for you in your driveway, and believe it or not they rather be riding to school alone.

Let yourself be weird.

Oh wait...

Actually study and try to make good grades. Your senior church friends are super fun, but they're almost in college so they don't have to worry about GPA's and such. But trust me on this one...when all of your friends are tapping their friends into honor society and in order to avoid the humiliation, your mom checks you out to go eat pancakes, you will thank me.

Also, having the football season "weekly tradition" of eating Chick-Fil-A for breakfast, Friday Special for after school snack, and all the food at the after game parties WILL make you gain weight. Just an advisory.

Don't over plan the ball so much. Take the senior year approach and let your friends do all the planning for you and then just let you know when and where to be.

Wear sunscreen so that the back of your legs aren't peeling on the first day of school. Oh, and you'll avoid the sunburn of 2009 that left you laying on your kitchen floor in agony for two days and swimming in a shirt at the lake the next day. 

Some things never change. Like your friends.

Whatever you do, DO NOT GO INTO THE WOODS TO AT NIGHT.

And trust me, the next three years are going to be the best.

Love you (in a totally non self centered way),

Allie

"I might not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I ended up where I needed to be."

Douglas Adams

Major This, Major That

Current status: sitting on the couch, waiting for the Econ online experiment to start (KILL ME), drinking a cup of coffee, and watching the Roll Tide War Eagle documentary on ESPN. I might or might not be convincing my mother to make pancakes in the AM to prep my stomach for the four hours of emotional turmoil that is the AP English exam. Also, I'm sporting the new XXXL t-shirt my dad brought me back from his latest trip to Tuscaloosa. He always knows exactly what to get me...his last surprise gift was that Alabama football helmet above my desk, proudly bearing the number 14 and the signature of Nick Saban. (I feel obligated and ashamed to admit that I just had to rely on autocorrect to fix my spelling of "signature". And to think that I might be an English major!)

Which brings me to my next point...

WHAT THE HAIL MARY SHOULD I MAJOR IN?

Here's the options:

Journalism.

This is most along the lines of what I would want to do, which I'm not totally sure what that is yet. But if I did know, I think it would most likely be it. So, you might ask, why don't you just major in that? That makes logical sense to the average human being! Well, rhetorical questioning nonexistent blog reader, I have a fear that would make me feel like I was settling or that I wouldn't be as diverse as a student. Ridiculous? Yes. Welcome to the confusing chaos that is the inner workings of my mind.

History.

My current major. I like history a lot, and I feel like this gives me a lot of options. But then again, I'm not sure if I like any of these options. 

English.

I like English. I'm good at English. I speak English fairly eloquently. I feel like English should definitely deserve a spot on the list.

French.

I'm not very good at French, but I love it. And I really want to be able to speak it fluently and I would like to study abroad in France at some point in my life, therefore a knowledge of French would probably come in handy. Anyone who has ever been in a French class with me (that would be at least 6 classes worth, because I'm a proud product of the Mountain Brook School System's foreign language track), probably is thinking that I have really lost my marbles this time because French is not necessarily my strong subject. But I really, really feel like I could get. But then what could I do with a French degree?

What I'm leaning most towards at the moment is...

Major: Journalism

Minor: English

Taking French classes on the side.

BUT at the same time, I NEED to be taking computer skills classes because one of my biggest fears is growing up to be like my family who is technologically incapable, but is convinced they're not. Okay, maybe not my biggest fear, but it's definitely up there! And I feel like you either do a language or computer classes.

So, that's all the word vomit you get tonight, blogsters, because homegirl has to get plentyyy of shut eye in order to make a 5 on her AP exam tomorrow. Especially since my chances are the highest on this one because government depends solely on my desire to study, and economics and French are both lost causes. I know you're wondering why I debate majoring in French if I'm so horrible at it, and sometimes I wonder the same thing too, but I just know I could get it if I really sat down and focused. And if my French class didn't harass me.

Okay I need to go to bed now. I'm started to startle myself.

Allie

"I fly because it releases my mind from the tyranny of petty things."

Antoine de Saint-Exupery

5

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
-Marianne Williamson

Dear Monday

Dear Monday,

I only have two of you left in high school. I know, I know, I'm just as surprised as you are.

I'm bringing you into fruition this morning with a bowl of yogurt, berries, and cinnamon toast crunch and one large cup of coffee, because it is in fact, Monday.

Let's all work together this morning as I prepare for four AP texts in the next week. Especially for French and Econ, even though we all know there is little to no hope there. But as I write this post, I am actually utilizing apostrophe, further preparing myself for AP English. And that counts for something.

So, Monday, my proposition to you is that we end these next two Mondays on a high note, and not in the same manner that the last couple have been. Believe it or not, I really don't enjoy failing Marine Science tests. It's just going to be really uncomfortable if I don't get exempt from Marine Science, and I'd greatly appreciate not only the free time, but also the lack of humiliation. 

Ok Monday, see ya later on. And this afternoon. And tonight. 

Allie

"Few feel the rain, most just get wet."

Nails, Nail Polish, and Chinese Men

CONFESSION TIME: As much I try to present myself as the "misunderstood/complex/slightly hipster" girl with a blog, I know that I really am like any 18 year old girl. I know you're shocked.

So like any teenage girl, I am slightly obsessed with nail polish. But in typical Allison fashion, I'm kind of a freak about it. Surprised?

For instance, I HATE HATE HATE HATE getting my nails done. Getting massaged and caressed by strange Chinese men not only weirds me out, but also is just plain uncomfortable. When I'm getting a pedicure, it tickles so much and my foot is always jerking around. I don't like having to sit there and do nothing for an hour, and I especially don't like to sit there and wait for my nails to dry. Thus, the nail guy knows me as the girl who is dragged in every now and again with her mother and always messes up her new manicure by leaving too early without it properly dried.

He also knows me as the girl who takes 30 minutes to pick out a nail polish. I suffer from chronic indecisiveness and also a severe case of "nail polish names obsession". My decision is probably about 40% the color, and 60% the name of the nail polish. I'll stand by the rack checking the names, trying on the colors, and asking random bystanders what they think about various colors up until he tells me that he will give away my appointment if I don't sit down already. It's not my fault OPI has the most hysterical names ever and I feel obligated to weigh all my options before binding myself to one hour of luxurious torture and a couple of weeks to a certain name.

 When I'm sporting "Barefoot in Barcelona," I personify myself as the casual traveler who is roaming the streets of some European town, fabulously but effortlessly dressed and of course, shoe-less.

 If it's "Cajun Shrimp" or "French Quarter for Your Thoughts", I crave shrimp and grits with a desert of beignets for at least a month.

If my mom insists on a pale shade, I go for "Who Needs a Prince?" and assume the role of Mia in Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement.

"Lincoln Park After Dark"...it's basically black and I feel like a fashion forward New-Yorkian.

 Also if they have the French collection out, then go ahead and add another 20 minutes to my time.

Don't even get me started on Hunger games.

And pray Taylor Swift never starts a line.

Since I hate getting my nails done, I end up just doing them myself. And since I end up just doing them myself, my nails tend to look like I let a four year old paint them. Okay, toes look like maybe a twelve year old but hands definitely are a four. That's why when I do go to get them done, I get a really cool color on my hands because if I did a bright color at home I would look like I dipped my fingers in nail polish and then rubbed them on the carpet. See, there's a rational reasoning behind my long deciding times at the nail rack! Don't hate on me, "master manicurist" nail guy. (He has his license on the wall and it says "master manicurist" and I'm really curious about what he had to do to become a master manicurist. Probably put up with my nail antics.)

To the Moon and Back,
Allie