The general hobbies that have stood the test of time so far in my years of being alive are sports and artsy things.  My current drugs of choice are Crossfit, flag football, and (of course) photography.  And although I feel great love for these things in my life, I recently balked when faced with the questions, “What are you passionate about?  What is in your life that you can’t live without?”

Well, that second part is easy.  Air.  Food.  Water.  A roof over my head.  Family.  Friends.

But my passions?  If I absolutely couldn’t play a sport or carry around my camera for a year, I would say…okay.  And find a way to deal with it.  Maybe I’m just that type of person.

I guess when I take a step back from the tangible, there are certain things in my life that tug at my heartstrings, things that could be seen as a passion.  I have a uncontrollable urge to do well in everything I do.  I’m currently kind of obsessing over my career path and what I can do to play a part in helping people.  I enjoy…life.  And living.  I suppose my passion is life and living it.

And I’m sure this was from some greeting card or something, but it’s kind of become my life mantra:

Free your heart from hatred.
Free your mind from worries.
Live simply.
Give more.
Expect less.

That last thing is what gets me, though.  Low expectations are met more easily, but at the same time…how low do you really want to set the bar?  Does this apply mostly to people?  Or just life in general?  Also, I want to add “Have fun.” at the end.  Because if you’re not having fun, what’s the point…right?

Ah, life.  I feel like I’m standing at a crossroad.  And I can’t see past the next turn.  All I know are my tendencies, thoughts, feelings and those will be enough to get me where I want to be.

We also made it to the Ponchatoula Strawberry Festival (first time!) where there was deliciousness to be had and a really good Beatles cover band to be heard.  When we first got there, there was basically a road of everything fried and everything strawberry, but we’ll get to that later.  The rides were your typical (scary) carnival rides:

and only got crazier as they lit up when the sun went down:

As with most festivals, strawberry fest was prime for people watching.  Most notably this adorable strawberried little girl:

(I think I will make some overalls like that) and this dude who WON A GIANT PIG (jealous.):

He literally stood like that for HOURS.  I mean, the pig looked squishy and comfy enough to make one wonder…

And the food.  Oh the food.  Anyone who knows me knows I am a fat kid at heart.  It’s craziness like these monstrosities…

(yes, that’s a CINNAMON-BATTERED, POWDERED SUGAR-DUSTED FRIED STRAWBERRY.) that make my taste buds squeal and my arteries cry.  It’s a love-hate thing.  Also, not pictured, we sampled spicy meat pies, chocolate covered strawberries, strawberry lemonade, grilled corn, sausage…and other strawberry and non-strawberry foods.  All fantastic.

And afterward, we all kind of felt like this:

…and this (if Katy were “food” in general):

DOES NOT WANT.

So yes, my first time at Strawberry Fest was strawberry-licious.  Lots of food, music, friends, people watching, strawberries and fun times.  Double rainbow!  Double thumbs up!

Mardi Gras is about getting hit in the face by gigantic pink beads…about screaming ’til you’re hoarse and have a bad case of the man-voice…about being handed a real rose by a guy in a mask you’re pretty positive is cute.

It’s about buying ridiculously colored backpacks at Walgreens for 7 bucks and filling them with crazy treasures like brilliantly engineered cooling cases for tasty beverages and heavily protected precious camera gear.

It’s about being SUPER excited for floats that proudly display your lifelong dream of becoming an astronaut…

It’s about cramming pasta in your pie hole on the way to a night parade because you were too busy having fun at the morning one to eat anything…

But most of all, it’s about friends.

Having not been in New Orleans for Mardi Gras in two years and having to march in all of the ones I have been able to go to, I realized this year that it really is like a second Christmas.  Work was closed, it was gorgeous weather (except for Saturday’s deluge), and everyone just seemed…happy.

My friend, Kelly, has met a lot of people from outside the US through her Albanian roommate, Ina.  They wanted to throw a party where all of her American friends dressed as American icons and all of her foreign friends dressed as their version of Americans.  Needless to say, it was an interesting night.

Unfortunately, I left my camera at home, and aside from this south-of-sober-ly taken picture (thank you, Kelly), you will have to rely on my words to paint a picture of the evening.

From left to right we have Mr. Rogers (rockin’ the Converse instead of the traditional Keds), Johnny Appleseed (yes, that’s a Swiffer handle and yes, there are actual apples in my bandana sack), the Statue of Liberty (with her trusty torch and dry-erase-marker-high inducing crown), and Honest Abe (felt beard and all).

We walked into the house and were greeted by Marilyn Monroe, an excellent Sarah Palin (who was actually from Alaska), a couple of cowboys, and (of course) a good number of people who seemed to not get the America Party memo.  After awhile, more and more people showed up, and eventually, English wasn’t the dominant language spoken in the house.  French and Spanish dialogue floated around, and it was awesome.  The fluidity of the words kind of made speaking English sound like somebody chopping into a tree.

I saw a super gangster-looking guy saunter up.  He had the shades, the sideways cap, the basketball shorts and shoes, the oversize Nike shirt, and a bit of stubble befitting a respectable rapper (Eminem excluded…he rocks the clean shave).  Turns out he was French.  According to Kelly, he always wears vests or nicely fitted shirts, so she didn’t even recognize him when he came through the door.  He asked why I had a pot on my head, and the most amazing conversation was born.  He learned about our crew and who we were, and we learned that apparently they don’t call French horns French horns in France (whoda thunk?).

The rest of the night was filled with dancing and random French guys playing beats on the pot on my head and asking who I was.  I guess there’s nothing like a pot on your head to strike up a conversation haha

It was a really fun night, and thanks to Kelly and her roommates, I think we all crammed a little more knowledge into our heads.

Here are a few of my favorite snaps from the day.  Click pics to enlarge!

Exhibit one: slides.  She probably went up and down that thing twenty times in a row, giggling her little butt off every time.

Exhibit two: swings.  I swear, this girl has the most infectious laugh.

Exhibit three: balloons.  Oh the balloons.  The kids were busy for at least an hour playing catch and release and just laughing laughing laughing.

Such simple things.  And kids can get so excited, all they can do is laugh and squeal and run around.  They can’t speak in complete sentences.  And it’s the most adorable thing in the world.  I wish I could show my excitement about anything like those kids were showing about those balloons, but I think if I acted like that on the first day of work, people might look at me funny.  Maybe I’ll laugh and squeal and run around…on the inside.

I don’t think I have ever moved my entire life from one place to another so quickly and with so few possessions.  Clothes, computer, and a few other essentials all fit into my cute little car, and my friend and I made the crazy drive down to New Orleans from Dallas.  The day we left, it was snowing (”relatively,” according to a friend from up north) ridiculously hard, and we definitely passed more than a handful of cars in the ditches on the side of the road.  Kind of nerve wracking, but we made it down alright, though it took a couple hours longer than normal due to some interstate closures.

Now, I’m pretty much settled in, got all of my paperwork taken care of for work, and I’m twiddling my thumbs waiting for the go-ahead from HR once they get the screening test results.  In the meantime, I’m content with catching up with old friends and driving aimlessly around the city to reacquaint myself with it.  I never noticed how much I didn’t go off campus until I started visiting after graduation.  New Orleans is a crazy cool city with a lot of history and soul.  The people are proud and friendly, and you will never want for great food.  And though I really don’t see myself raising a family here, this is definitely a great place for a first job and a good time.

Hopefully I will get to all of the things I never did in school and more.  I’m definitely looking forward to sharing my adventures with you guys. Stay tuned! =)

asofterworld.com is…different.  Sometimes it’s exactly what I’m thinking,

and other times it’s more like…what are they thinking…

But the first one is one that really caught my attention because, well, I thought that exact thing just the other day.

There should be a word for ‘the things we do not because we want to but because we want to be the kind of person who wants to.’

I wonder how thin the line is between the two and how you can tell if it’s who you are or who you wish you were.  I’m not referring to anything in particular; it’s just one of those insomniac nights where thoughts ricochet in my head.

Well, I take that back.  My brother’s going into the Navy, and those three frames pretty much sum up my thoughts about it.

Interesting.

First, Happy New Year!  Woo, 2011!

And Second, ladies and gentlemen, after a year and a half of searching, I am proud to announce that I have finally, finally found a job!

*cue epic movie soundtrack music…or “Secrets” by OneRepublic*

After one roller coaster of a year, it feels insanely good to feel like I have my feet on solid ground again.  Looking back on it, 2010 really did have its highs and lows, and for me, the year was definitively split right down the middle.  It’s funny how life suddenly seems to yank you in another direction when you least expect it, and the resulting whiplash can be pretty brutal.

I’m not usually one to prattle on about new year resolutions and life evaluations around the time the ball drops, because I’m the type who thinks you shouldn’t wait for the new year to make a change in your life.  I feel, however, that this is such a turning point for me considering how things have gone post-college, and it just happens to fall around January 1st.  I suppose this is as good a time as any to start fresh, change bad habits, and make a conscious effort to keep the past in the past.  Also, I would be lying if I said that having a steady paycheck doesn’t help facilitate forming good habits (like getting a gym membership or eating something a little more healthy than Ramen).

So, here’s to starting anew.  New job, new house, new car…with familiar friends, familiar city, familiar feeling.  Butterflies in my stomach.  Like a little kid anticipating the first day of school.  Excited but terrified.

Here we go!

For those of you unfamiliar with the candy-haps, the limited edition Twix Java hit the shelves late 2007, was pulled in 2008, and as of September 2009 has been permanently added to Twix’s awesome varieties (the others being original, peanut butter, and ice cream).  I spotted it as I was checking out and was intrigued.

The candy itself is pretty delicious.  The coffee flavor is actually mixed in with the caramel; the foundation is a chocolate cookie rather than a plane-Jane one; and it’s all tied together with the classic milk chocolate outer coating.  The coffee’s not overpowering, but you can definitely taste it in there.  It has as much sweetness as a regular Twix, and the texture is spot on.  I love how the T.J. stayed true to the Twix texture, something massively important with any food.  I mean, if the consistency were off even the slightest bit, this Twix would have lost its Twix-ness.

Overall, I rather enjoyed my Twix Java moment.  I’m not sure how much coffee is in it, but as someone who can count the number of cups of Joe in the last year on one hand, I hope it’s not enough to keep me wired all night.