Christmastime in the 802

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In four short days my first semester of college will be OVER. I cannot express how excited I am to be home without any responsibilities other than working to fund my upcoming trips. I miss having my own space and making my own meals.

Despite the below-30 degree temperature drop, Vermont has been extremely beautiful lately. It’s so nice to wake up to huge snowflakes tapping at my window on Monday mornings. Coffee has tasted extra cozy and the dining halls have free candy canes! When I wasn’t studying, I was downtown Christmas shopping. Church Street has a pretty good selection of stores, and anything you can’t find is in the University Mall. My favorite store is probably Outdoor Gear Exchange because they have literally everything you need to brave any kind of weather. There are hundreds of brands and even a consignment section. I picked up a Patagonia vest for a fraction of the price as a gift and I can’t wait to give it. They even have free stickers.

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Above is a picture of the lights after the first block on the corner of Bank Street. There must be thousands of strings wrapping everything in lights.

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Saturday night I had a final dinner with some of my friends at Sweetwater’s. Sweetwater’s isn’t my favorite restaurant but I think it’s well priced for the atmosphere and the quality of the food. Their fries were very good and I had forgotten how good ketchup is.

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I also got their chocolate torte, which is beyond delicious. The little cake in the middle is literally just chocolate covered in chocolate, and the ice cream is homemade.

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I also hit up Muddy Waters on Main Street. Muddy Waters is a very unique yet very Burlington cafe. It doesn’t have wifi, which is pretentious and annoying, but I still got some work done. And their house chai latte was just spicy enough.

As a semester recap, I really don’t hate Burlington. It has its positives for sure. The lake is beautiful and the sunsets never fail to amaze me. I have just been having a hard time handling school and friendships and living situations. Things have calmed down for the most part and I am happy to be leaving on a good note emotionally. I have some things to get excited about coming back to, and I have a feeling 2017 is going to be a really good year. I booked a flight to Florida and I’m going to D.C. again, and both of those are happening in January alone.

I also made a Spotify playlist about Burlington recently and have been updating it every few days. I listen to it when I’m studying or walking down Main Street.

One thing I will enjoy about coming home is not dressing like a bum anymore – I will say Vermont has taken away my fashion sense. It’s just too cold. Maybe people will think I know how to ski.

The Yellow Jacket

I am infrequently reminded that a shard of my heart experiences intense happiness from finding the perfect finishing touch to a carefully crafted outfit. I often forget the lusty sartorial dreams I once had, which consisted of school day afternoons spent thumbing through Teen Vogue, studying the young and privileged and learning about the inside of their bedrooms, googling how to say Comme des Garçons and Monique Lhuillier, not that either of those names (or any others) would come up in conversation at eleven years old.

I like going to Church Street and walking really fast and loudly with fake purpose when really I’m just trying to figure out if I should go into Uncommon Grounds despite the death of their espresso machine. I’ve done this for four days in a row (two of those days I broke and caffeinated myself). Today was different. Today it was so cold, which if this is cold I think I might explode in the winter because it’s going to be so bad, and I curled my hair. Curling my hair was a real turning point because nothing was cooperating this morning, and that made me feel like I had it all together.

It was a Regina Spektor morning, complete with days-old lemon water and a few pages of a img_4674book, confused as to why so many wet paintings were on my common room floor (this weekend I tried to make friends and they let me use their Tempura paint).

Sometimes I heavily rotate Regina Spektor, Vampire Weekend, Beirut in tandem, and they all seem to relate, just like Glass Animals, Tame Impala, and MGMT. And when my hair is curled, my boots are brown, and my eyeliner isn’t too fucked up, it’s the former. When my hair is bunned, my boots are converse, and my eyeliner is either nonexistent or too existent, it’s the latter. I annoy myself because I go between these two personalities the most, and I can never seem to pick. I know I shouldn’t pick, and I’m just a confusing person, but the yellow jacket makes the Regina Spektor, Vampire Weekend, Beirut me make more sense.

I like the yellow jacket me. She studies, she writes, she reads, she appreciates the blessing of being outside. She is quiet, she eats and researches, she says minimal hellos and goodbyes and people compliment her clothes. She gets up early to make tea and never runs out of money because she is financially stable and can afford to buy a coffee on a whim because she’s that good. She reads the news and lights candles and knows when to go to bed. She can give an elevator speech and her wallet is organized.img_4672

Yellow jacket me has always been there, and is slowly coming out of her shell to coexist in a world where so many yellow jacket types do not flourish. Yellow jacket me asked for a job at the store where they sell wine candles, and yellow jacket me is applying to transfer schools.

The yellow jacket is a size ten, the perfect fit, doesn’t make me look fat. It was someone else’s once, because there is a perfectly folded tissue in the right pocket. It is Tory Burch and as I was putting it on to wear out of the store over my seersucker button-down shirt Washed Out began to play and a curl fell out of place and I walked out of the store thinking of my younger self, thinking of how cool it was that I tried on a Nanette Lepore skirt, comparing myself to Massie Block and thinking about my fashion journals.

My suite mate compared me to Blair Waldorf and I opened up my application to Marist again.