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Showing posts with label me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label me. Show all posts
My brother and I sang lots of songs last night.
I don't know why we did this.
But we did.
And it distracted me for about an hour and a half.
But now we're not doing that and I'm alone and I don't have anything to distract me anymore.
I need distractions.
So I'm blogging.
#iamnotasinger
#myvoicecracks
#butilikeit
#i'mwearingaMorningBenderstshirtbejealoussuckit
Question:
How much would you spend on a quality backpack that you'd love as if it were your child and you would carry it around everywhere and have lots of adventures with it and love it and love it and never let go?
Seriously, friends.
How much would you pay?
Keeping this question in mind, let's move into the third episode of the viewer favorite:
Today we're all about backpacks.
As some of you know,And as all of you will know after the following sentence,
I am a backpack person.
At the end of junior year,
on Memorial Day in fact,
My sisters and I took a small day trip(per) up to Park City.
As Ingrid looked at snow shoes,
Astrid looked at regular shoes,
And I meandered through the store,
I saw something that would change my life forever.
There, hanging on a hook that was too high for my 5'1 stature to reach, was a salmon-colored Sherpani canvas backpack with a tan trim and lavender detail up the front.
And if that wasn't detailed enough:
I needed it.
I thought of a million reasons to have it.
And so I bought it.
At first, I felt silly switching a regular shoulder bag for a backpack.
I felt childish.
I was chided.
Questioned.
Laughed at.
Alright, I wasn't, but the first time people saw me with the backpack they seemed to cock their head to the side to let the sight sink in.
Eventually, it did.
And eventually I became comfortable with it.
And eventually I loved it.
I carried the backpack everywhere.
It was my bag.
It carried my wallet, my keys, my phone, my iPod, and other oddities.
Throughout my senior year of high school, I bought smaller notebooks and folders to accommodate it.
It was me and my backpack against the world.
My mom will still call me a kangaroo on occasion, commenting the fact that I always have a pack with me.
Either my Sherpani one, or a floral one that my sister bought for me as a graduation present.
Floral with brown straps, I decorated it with a Harry Potter keychain and a plush fox pin, and it became my companion for the summer.
As college approaches, I've only thought of things I will need to buy for my new independent life.
Pots, bedding, avocados.
But I completely forgot about the necessities.
Well, perhaps I didn't forget about them.
I just didn't think the necessities were… necessary.
Which is where our night begins.
I began my research on what backpack I would want.
Do I want another canvas backpack like the ones I’ve been donning?
Perhaps something a bit sturdier, like a rucksack?
Are these practical, due to the heavy lifting I’ll be doing in college?’
Then
I remembered reading about a girl who was a backpack enthusiast.
I looked her up.
This girl
Is awesome.
For several reasons.
She is a very talented artist.
She has mad style.
She is Chris Baio (the bassist for Vampire Weekend)’s sister.
And she introduced me to this bag:
I quickly became obsessed.
This backpack…
This.
Backpack.
Was perfect.
Roomy, sturdy, had plenty of compartments, and had a quirk to it that I absolutely loved.
The problem?
I had no idea what kind of backpack it was.
I searched for hours.
Trying to type keywords into Google.
“Retro backpacks”
“Retro school bags”
“Vintage school backpacks”
“Leather retro backpacks”
Why
Couldn’t
I
Find
This
Bag
?!?!?!!asapgkpeotksh
I stalked Al Baio in every possible way I could, trying to catch her mentioning the name of her bag.
No where.
It was if this backpack didn’t exist.
I looked through the pages of her blog,
10 pages
20 pages
30 pages
40 pages
Looking through picture after picture.
The bag came up several times,
But never was it named.
This bag was an enigma that I couldn’t understand.
A box I couldn’t open.
A club I couldn’t be a member of.
A siren - taunting me with its beauty, but never letting me touch it. Luring me in for the kill.
…
So I loved this bag a lot okay?
I continued to search, getting little hints along the way.
There was a similar version of the backpack distributed by United Colors of Benetton.
They seemed to be incredibly popular in Tokyo.
She said it came with a “raincoat,” which was essentially a large shower cap.
And when she posted a picture of it, the flyer that came with it was in some Asian language.
The only English letters spelling out EVA.
All great hints,
That led me nowhere.
Page 76 out of 77 pages on her blog.
And finally
This picture:
My chest swelled, my breath caught in my throat, I stopped moving for fear that the picture would disappear.
Asics Super Randoseru.
Asics Super Randoseru.
The picture even congratulated me for finally finding its name.
Why thank you, picture.
How kind of you.
After memorizing the picture, I frantically began to Google it to find out more.
Asics Super Randoseru.
Super Randoseru.
And eventually just “randoseru.”
I discovered it is a children’s backpack commonly used in Japan. Parents give their child a randoseru at the beginning of elementary, and they’re to use that backpack for the duration of their childhood education. It’s designed to withstand six years of day-to-day use.
So basically,
It’s awesome.
And also,
Unattainable.
I have no idea where to buy one at a reasonable price.
There are a couple on a sketchy Japanese website,
A few on Amazon,
And a bit more on eBay.
All more expensive than what I would usually spend on a backpack.
But,
I totally think it’s worth it but I might just be love struck that’s totally a possibility shut up.
So,
This is where we complete the circle of life,
Or the life of this post, at least.
And I ask you again:
How much would you spend on a backpack?
A backpack that you would use forever and would absolutely love?
Where do you draw the line?
I am having a very hard time drawing the line with this one.
It’s my money
I’m allowed to do what I want with it right?
Right?
I mean, that’s what adulthood is,
Isn’t it?
Adulthood is all about buying overpriced children’s backpacks.
I think.
I don’t know.
Sigh.
Maybe you should sleep on it, yeah?
Yeah. Go to sleep.
Have pleasant dreams of beautiful randoseru backpacks, my friends.
In the morning I fully expect you to have an answer to my question.
It’s an important one, homezzz.
- Adriana
P.S. Did anyone spot the Beatles easter egg in there? I bet you did, but didn’t understand it was supposed to be a Beatles easter egg until just now.
P.P.S. Lack of sleep does this to me, okay? Don’t judge.
P.P.P.S I love you all.
P.P.P.P.S xoxo, Gossip Girl.
As fall creeps up on us,
We draw nearer to one of my favorite times of the year.
The most wonderful time of the year, in fact.
No, wait, just kidding, that's Christmas.
This is the most almost-the-best-but-mostly-it's-adequate-but-in-a-good-way time of the year.
Yes, you know what I'm talking about.
It's school supply shopping time.
Except this year, we're not just going back to school.
We're going to college.
Back to school shopping this year doesn't just mean buying my favorite purple Paper Mate pen.
(Try saying that ten times fast.)
It also means buying bed sheets,
And cleaning supplies,
And a shower curtain
And stuff.
Weird, man.
So weird.
So,
I decided I would use this time to make a list of things I need/want to buy in order to prepare for college.
Because that's just so super interesting to you guys, right?
Right?
No?
Fine.
It's my blog anyways.
- Duvet cover
- Brita water filter
- Swiffer Wet Jet
- Shamwow
- Avocado Cutter
- .......
- ....
- Avocados
That's all I need to survive in college, right?
I think so, at least.
Not that it matters what I take, anyways.
I fully intend on marrying my first year of college.
To a doctor.
So I'll be well taken care of and such.
It's gonna happen, homes.
I've already met him.
He's practically proposed already.
I mean, look at the love emitting from those eyes.
His eyes, not mine.
Erica Adriana Pepper.
Has a nice ring to it, no?
Did you know,
That when you get married, the lady basically has a free pass to change her name to whatever she wants?
Some choose to be traditional, and merely add their spouses last name.
Some change their name to Princess Consuela Banana Hammock.
I plan on adding a "K" to my first name.
So instead of being spelled
E-R-I-C-A
It will be spelled
E-R-I-C-K-A
Makes it a little fancier, I think.
And besides,
That's already how I spell it on my email address.
So it's basically already official.
Maybe I'll add an "@" in Adriana, as well.
I'm in a weird mood today.
- Adri@na
Last Saturday I woke up at the horrific hour of six thirty in the morning (after having gone to sleep at an early 3AM.)
I woke up,
Rolled out of bed,
Pulled my hair into a high, side pony tail,
Wrapped a neon green headband around my head,
Pulled some shoes over my thigh-high stockings,
And lazily walked out the door.
My mother encouraged me to perk up and eat a granola bar or something.
"You're about to run a four mile race, you know."
Yes, yes I was.
However,
This wasn't any typical run.
This,
This was the Dirty Girl Dash.
 |
| My Dirty Girl team. |
The Dirty Girl Dash
(Or, as it was renamed this year, the Kiss Me Dirty race)
(Though I like Dirty Girl Dash better.)
(You know, alliteration.)
The Dirty Girl Dash is a four mile obstacle course run that takes place a couple times a year in Utah.
It is an all girl run that benefits the research of gynecological cancer.
But, more than anything, it is effing fun.
The race encourages women to dress up to get dirty.
There were girls in prom dresses, girls in wedding dresses, girls in tutus, girls dressed like bee's.
Even girls dressed up as tampons.
My group opted for the eighties look.
What it is, is this:
There are two two-mile laps with several obstacle courses.
Haystacks, a tire drill, tire swings, a hurdle, a five foot wall, army crawling through mud, a net climb, and a run through muddy, and also freezing, water that goes up to your knees.
 |
| Triumphant fist pump after the first lap. |
The whole race was so much fun,
It wasn't even a race, really.
It wasn't about speed or your time or anything.
It was about getting together with a group of friends,
And getting down and dirty.
By the second lap, we took it incredibly easy and instead focused on pushing each other down in the mud.
 |
| I can get dirty when I need to. |
And then,
At the end of the four miles,
We crossed the finish line by running through a sea of suds and bubbles.
Suffice it to say that it that the bubbles weren't nearly enough for the cleaning we needed after that run.
 |
| Our group posing in victory. |
 |
| My sisters and I are dirty, dirty girls. |
 |
| The face of champions. |
And as my sister wisely put it, if we could exercise like that every day, no one would ever complain about physical exertion.
So I propose we do.
Who wants to meet me at Sugar House Park to go running this weekend?
I'll be the girl in the prom dress and running shoes.
Or, if you're too shy to do that,
(Which I wouldn't blame you)
You should at least consider doing the run down in Ogden on August 20th.
It'd be totally worth your time.
Even if you do have to take a thorough, hour long shower afterwards and wash behind your ears three times.
Three times.
Sheesh.
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