A Very Lucky Girl

The actual lawn kind, guys. Get your minds out of Woodstock circa 1970.  I learned a hard lesson when I went to renew my driver's license a few months ago. I had been stuck with my pre-senior year, post-cross country practice photo for four years. It was time for a date-mandated, horizontal change. I dutifully decided to go to the tag agency before the July 31st expiration date. And there I learned the grass isn't greener. The second license picture is no better than the first. In fact, it's worse. I didn't know the meaning of a poor picture until this July.  Let me backtrack. This summer has easily been the most emotional of my life. And that's saying something for a crybaby like me. I've literally been on the verge of tears daily.  So when Hudiberg called to report on the progress of my Toyota Matrix and told me it would take yet another (THIRD!) unscheduled day to install cruise control, I may or may not have lost it in anger.  As a result, my eyes w...

judge away. Circa 11th grade Consider this an intervention. Trust me, I've had my fair share of selfies. But then I graduated high school. high school shopping swag These are some hard and fast rules of those pesky self-absorbed images: 1. Try to have another person in it. I have zero judgement for the visible arm holding out the photography device if there are two faces in the frame. Sometimes you just don't have a third person to take that perfect picture. We forgive you. 2. If a partner is unavailable then at least use a webcam and NOT a mirror. Myspace-esque photography ended at the same time as That's So Raven. And no one cares to see your current brand of toothpaste reclining on your bathroom counter.  3. Keep ALL clothes ON.  I cringe when I see those horrifyingly low slung shorts as people boast in their gym time. I'm proud of the mornings I spend running as well, but I'm not trying to plaster it across Facebook. Save it...

I wandered the aisles of Barnes and Noble the other night with Megan Goebel, searching for a book for her to take on her Thanksgiving trek to Kansas. We both walked out empty-handed, but I had an arsenal of photographs on the camera roll in my phone.  I immediately logged into Amazon (yeah they remember me, what's the problem?) as soon as I arrived back at my dorm and searched for the used/reduced priced version of 5 different titles. Bought them all. For the low, low price of $48.40. Damn shipping gets me every time. But I'd rather pay approximately $10 a book than the atrocious $15.99 that B&N was offering. And there's not a single fiction book among my selection! Will wonders never cease... My mailbox should soon be stuffed with words from Ellen Degeneres, Mindy Kaling, and others. A Very Lucky Girl plans to lurk the post office faithfully until her orders arrive.

Except I don't. I call this photograph: Sunlight reflecting off of the emptiness. Deep, right? Check out that echoing mailbox. You know what I found in there yesterday? A flyer. The day before that? An advertisement. Not one single letter. I pinky promise I will write you back when Shari sends me stamps (Got that, mom? Send some stamps, please. In a stamped envelope. #stampception)! And don't be fooled by the size of the slot; packages still get to me by way of the campus post office. Feel free to send me hugs in a box. Or Swedish fish. I'm flexible, really.  Taylor Arceneaux 316 Cate Center Drive Box #4949 Norman, OK 73072  Real life: Any sort of mail would make A Very Lucky Girl's day. 

"Renew Passport." That sticky note graced my shelf for the entire summer. It hung over my head like a bad hangover (see what I did there?) so I finally got around to it a few days ago. And of course, by that time, it had expired.  I gathered all the documents I needed and had my pictures taken at the local Walgreens. I think it's an unwritten Murphy's Law that all legal photos have to be horrible. Ready for this mugshot? I promise, I'm only under the influence of nail polish remover fumes. I had just repainted my nails. Nevertheless, that picture gets to serve me for the next 10 years. Womp womp. I reluctantly drove to the Edmond Community Center and almost turned around and vowed to never leave the country when I saw that it was the same place as the DPS/DMV office (I always get those mixed up. Anyone know the difference?). I still have vivid nightmarish memories about trying to get an Oklahoma driver's license following our move. I approached the door, g...