Halloween Banana

Let me take you back eight months ago, nearly halfway through my first semester in college, before the cold had really settled in New York City and the trees still held fiercely to their yellow leaves. This past fall was a busy one for me, for obvious reasons, and while I spent most of September trying to adjust to sharing a bathroom with four other girls and walking nine blocks every other day at 7:30 a.m. for class, I took advantage of the mild October weather to explore more of the city. A childhood friend came to stay with me for a long weekend, and, for the first time, I managed to maneuver the subway and get us to the Upper West Side. On a whim (and driven by the irrefutable craving for festive cupcakes), my roommate and I decided to cross Houston Street and step into the strange, expensive land that is SoHo. Halfway through the month I was invited to my first rooftop party, and spent a few freezing hours pretending I was hip enough to be there. I visited the Botanical Gardens in the Bronx with friends, ate a meal in Koreatown my wallet will never forget, and tried on old, weird prom dresses at a rinky-dink thrift store near St. Marks Place. I squeezed in every last adventure I could before the temperature dropped and I inevitably became an irritable mole-person.

As October wore on, I became more and more determined to not only explore as much of the city as I could, but also to be the most obnoxious Halloween-enthusiast on my floor. Halloween is one of my favorite holidays, and I was almost certain my first Halloween spent in NYC was going to top all other Halloweens. Imagine the pure elation on my roommates' faces as they stepped through our dorm door one evening (already covered in spider-web deco) realizing I was going to have ABC's Thirteen Nights of Halloween on the TV for exactly thirteen nights! Every time they tripped over the extension chord for the purple lights I had strung across our door frame, they thanked their lucky stars they had been randomly assigned to live with me.

And of course, among my many firsts that October, I also carved a pumpkin by myself for the first time. And let me tell you, it was not easy. For one, I had to carry this pumpkin in a plastic grocery bag for a few blocks. Then I had to cut the thing with a plastic, two-inch knife that came from a very old, cheap carving kit, spreading pumpkin guts everywhere. Then, like the culinary genius that I am, I poked holes in aluminum foil to form a makeshift sieve so that I could, with much difficulty and very little success, rinse the pumpkin seeds and roast them at a later time (this, of course, never happened). But damn, I was proud of that pumpkin. On Halloween day, I put the pumpkin outside our door in the hallway, alongside a little Tupperware of candy corn, my good-natured attempt to be neighborly and (aggressively) festive.

Later that night, I realized too late that I should have never let that cute little jack-o'-lantern out of my sight. When some friends and I returned from our wandering of the Village and Times Square to watch a Halloween movie at my dorm, my poor pumpkin had his fanged teeth kicked in and a gash that left his face nearly split in half.

I was annoyed as all get-out. I shouted obscenities. I shook my fist. Injustice! Anarchy! Assholes! This wasn’t just an accidental hit-and-run; the massacre of my pumpkin was totally intentional. You could tell because his top and stem were discarded in an alcove halfway down the hall, an additional, unnecessary act of violence on my already disfigured pumpkin. Surprisingly, the Tupperware of candy corn that I left out for passer-byers was untouched.

I carried the Tupperware and the broken pieces of my pumpkin inside, where my friends were wondering how long it would take me to get over a rotting vegetable. One of my friends kept muttering, “I don’t get it. What’s the problem?” which did not make me feel any more agreeable.

My emotional melt-down very quickly became uninteresting for my company, and they began to chat and laugh in my room while I attempted to reconstruct what was left of my pumpkin’s face with toothpicks. Then, there was a knock at the door.

Expecting to see the guilt-ridden perpetrators returned to beg for forgiveness, I yanked the door open only to see a boy dressed as a giant banana, flanked by another boy in a pirate costume.

“Good evening,” said the banana smoothly, adjusting his eyeglasses. “We were wondering if you or any of your roommates had any alcohol.” I stared back at him, wondering in a moment of panic if somehow this banana-pirate duo were Residential Assistants trying to bust under-age Halloween activities.

“Any alcohol?” I repeated, looking back over my shoulder as though one of the bottles of peach-flavored vodka my roommate had stashed might come bounding out from under her bed to incriminate us. I turned back around ready to feign ignorance, but the pirate chose that moment to reveal a box of sour candies. “We’ll trade you this entire box for any alcohol you have,” he added, extending the box in my direction.

My worry fell away and I appraised the two with a look of disdain. I mean, were they really going door-to-door asking for booze in exchange for fifty-cent candy? Dressed like they were in a weird children’s show, no less? 

They could probably tell I was judging them and about to decline, because the pirate added, “Could you check with your roommates too?”

With a sigh, I called out to my friends. A few of them joined me at the door, peeking over my shoulder and assessing the situation. “They want alcohol,” I deadpanned. “For candy.” This earned an eager shake of the box from the pirate.

“Ooooh, those are really good candies!” One of my friends grabbed a strip of green packaged sweets.

“Yeah, but we don’t have any alcohol here.” I turned back to the boys with an insincere grimace. “I’m sorry!”

“Are you sure? Could you check?”

Could I check? Clearly this freshman's desperation for liquor knew no bounds. My friend was still hungrily eyeing the box of candy. “We don’t have alcohol...but I have a Tupperware of candy corn I can give you?” I offered weakly.

The two boys exchanged looks, and there was a moment of silent deliberation.

The banana shrugged his shoulders. “Candy corn is good.”

I sent my friend to go grab the container off the edge of my bed, while the three of us stood in my doorway in awkward silence.

“I like your ears,” the banana said eventually, referring to the pointed, elfin, rubber pieces  balanced on top of my ear, the only costume prop indicating I was dressed as a fairy.

“Thanks,” I replied, even though I knew he was lying. “I like your…banana.”

Luckily, my friend returned with the Tupperware of candy corn before he was able to think about what I just said.

We made the trade-off cordially, and waved them off. “Good luck with your search!” I called out, watching the two waddle off to the next door, thinking to myself, even considering my Halloween-fanaticism, at least I’m not those guys.  

Ode to Tenth Street

My second semester started with snow. Like, a lot of snow. I had returned to the city a few days ahead of schedule, trying to get situated back in my dorm before the storm hit. It was a good thing too, because the following night, and all through the next day, the NYC streets were blanketed in over 26 inches. Of course, this was nothing compared to the nearly 30 inches my family had to shovel that weekend in rural Virginia, but when one of the busiest cities in the world gets dumped with over two feet of snow, it's a weird thing to see, to say the least.

Our view of Tenth Street during the snow storm

My roommate and I trudged through the snow from our dorm on East Tenth Street to the West Fourth subway station, a solid twenty-minute walk in normal conditions, in an attempt to "rescue" our suitemate who had been traveling via Amtrak from Boston back to the city. After arriving at the station (thoroughly soaked, might I add), we received a phone call from our suitemate. She told us that she was already back at the room--she had come in through the Eighth Street station instead of West Fourth, which was only a few blocks away from our dorm, and had made it back in hardly no time at all. My roommate and I nearly sobbed. 

Lois, my roommate, in Washington Square Park

Frostbite and unsuccessful rescue missions aside, we did manage to stock up on some food at a nearby Duane Reade, as well as take some cute pictures in Washington Square Park. Walking into our warm room, hands full of plastic bags and our coats dripping onto the wood floors, I felt a little like I was coming back home. We spent the rest of the evening around the TV, watching dumb movies on Netflix while our frozen limbs thawed, taking intermittent breaks to peer out onto Tenth Street from our ninth-story window; the city was white and, almost impossibly, still. 

I bring up this particularly snowy and cold day to highlight the point at which Tenth Street started to feel like the driveway leading up to my front door. Even after the Winter Wonderland Effect wore off, and the nasty, black slush melted away (a word of warning to anyone visiting the city in the winter: those dirty pools of water in the middle of the crosswalk? The moat which rims the edges of every block? Yeah, they're not as shallow as they might seem), there was a kind of magic in turning the corner off University Place and walking the length of the block on Tenth every day.

Ritzy apartments and antique shops on Tenth

For many of those who have never lived there, New York City is Big Lights and the Empire State Building. It's Times Square, with screens so bright you can mistake their glow for daylight even in dead of night; it's crowds so large and maddening you can't breathe. They think Wall Street or they think Broadway, and that's New York City. And you know, it's true, to a certain extent; New York is busy and bright and crowded, and sometimes there's so many people around and you feel so small and unimportant that you can't breathe. But that's only sometimes.

Another glorious pic of, you guessed it, Tenth St

For me, this past year in NYC was East Tenth Street. It was coming back from an early 9:30 class, my lunch in a plastic "I Heart NYC" bag swinging from my hand, admiring the sunshine as it filtered through bright green leaves and bounced off multicolored apartment buildings. It was overhearing loud, drunken shouts and laughter from the street nine stories up at 3 a.m., and sometimes shouting back. It was stopping to marvel at the gorgeous, yellow tulips planted on the street, their petals wide and lovely, creating springtime shadows on the pavement. It was using the hourly bell chimes from Grace Church as a way to tell the time, and getting lavender and Thai tea ice cream from Sundaes and Cones on warm nights. It was excellent, overpriced gelato at Amorino, crazy, seasonal window-displays at University Floral Design on the corner, swanky, elderly patrons at Ristorante Il Cantori, and antique stores that no one ever stepped foot inside. It was bumping into a surprising amount of celebrities doing very normal things, like Zooey Deschanel grocery shopping, or 6' 2'' Michael Che taking up most of the sidewalk while talking to a friend. It was seeing Alec Baldwin at least twice a day, and hoping he wouldn't punch you for staring at him a beat too long. 

I had so many incredible adventures this school year, many of which I intend to backtrack and tell on this blog throughout the summer, but those adventures would not have been possible if I didn't have a base to rest and recharge, somewhere I felt at home while being so very far from home. Tenth Street gave that to me, a little block of familiarity and comfort in the hectic city. 

Come the end of August, I'll be moving into my new dorm-home in the West Village, an area of Greenwich I have only recently started to explore but already is becoming one of my favorite parts of the city. I'll probably never be able to afford to live on East Tenth ever again, which does make me a little sad. However, that's the inevitable and perpetual motion of NYC: people and businesses come and go, little pockets are abandoned to make room for new lives and stories. And I know my New York story is only just beginning.

On Finishing the First Semester

Exactly fourteen weeks and a day ago, I moved into my college dorm room. 

An 8th floor classroom where I take Greek lessons

For some reason, fourteen weeks doesn't seem like a long time to me, although I've started to forget what it was like living anywhere else but here, in New York City. I've become completely immune to the continual street-noise symphony outside my window; I spend at least fifteen minutes every day in the Duane Reade on Broadway (one of them, that is); my fascination with being able to see right into the apartment level with my room on the other side of the street has totally worn off. 

I could give you detailed directions to Molly's Cupcakes on Bleecker, or to Think Coffee on Mercer, or to pretty much any Gristedes in the Village. Sometimes I look up and am slightly weirded-out to realize I no longer marvel at twenty-story buildings. I walk on those grate-y things on the sidewalk; I wait to cross the street much past the curb; I've mastered my best scowl to give impatient drivers trying to turn right when pedestrians have the right of way.

I don't quite feel like I've earned my New Yorker status yet, but maybe I'm in some kind of grey area between Belonging to the Place I Grew Up and Belonging to the Place I Now Live. Quite honestly, sometimes this grey area is a little lonely, an odd sentiment considering the 1.6 million people who call Manhattan their home, but a common one, considering the 1.6 million people who call Manhattan their home. It's a city I'm still trying to understand, but it no longer lives solely on the TV screen or in the movies, in other people's stories, in my fantasies. This is my every-day. 

Two weeks from today, I will be packing up a fraction of my belongings from the little corner of my room, studying for my last final exam, and thrilled, no doubt, to be almost done with my first semester of university. It's not only the month long break which will be exciting (although make no mistake, five weeks? Without any school work? Friggin' amazing), but also knowing that when I return to school in January for the new semester, I will be in a place so entirely different, and better, than the one I was in when I arrived fourteen weeks ago.

Part of that will be knowing my surroundings better, but mostly it will lie in the fact that I'm so much better at taking care of myself now than I was four months ago. I make grocery-shopping lists. I can clean the entire bathroom in thirty minutes. I have a medicine drawer. I dust.

Living away from your family never really sucks less, but you get used it after a while, and you get better at finding ways to communicate and staying involved in each other's lives. Like playing Taboo over FaceTime, or live-texting commentary while watching a movie, or Snapchatting grotesque faces while your roommates aren't looking (and sometimes even when they are because dorm rooms aren't that big and you've got to try a couple times before you achieve optimal ugliness). 

Every once in a while homesickness, not really for your physical home but more for the way you feel when you're there, can hit you in the gut and leave you feeling tether-less and lost and all you want to do is close your eyes and wish away the whole thing-- college, moving away, growing up-- but then it passes and you feel like a total badass because you're a "college kid" who "answers to no-one" and you can "eat Chick-fil-a every other day" without your "mom" "judging you." 

Socially, save for the first few weeks of the mania-induced Freshman frenzy, my first semester has been quieter than I originally anticipated. With a totally clean slate, making friends can actually be pretty difficult, especially when you only share one class with so many people for an hour and a half, most of which you spend in silence and while furiously scribbling notes, and then you all go your separate ways because for the first time in your life your time is your own and if you choose to go back to your room in between classes just to read or listen to Christmas music with your microwaved bowl of ramen, then you actually can. 

Making friends in college is certainly a more organic process, one that requires of you a little more effort and endurance. However, the effort feels deliberate rather than obligatory, a nice change from high school. For me, it being slow-going makes sense. I used to be in a pool of 2,000 kids, most of whom had passed me in the hallway thousands of times over the course of seven years. Now, I'm dealing with a pool of almost 60,000. Fifteen weeks just isn't going to cut it. 

I'm excited for the next fifteen though. I'm excited to meet more people and become closer with the ones I already have. I'm excited to see more of New York and learn more about my new home. I'm excited for the warm weather to return, but I'm told not to hold my breath.

Hope everyone has a lovely holiday season. I'll see y'all in 2016.

-Danielle

Thoughts After Bully's

I'm sitting here, staring down a flank steak po boy, hot from a little local deli on Broadway, smiling like an idiot.

Why? Because I'm in love with the place where I live. 

2 months ago, I wasn't really sure I would like it here. Of course, that's not what I told people. A lot of the times, that's not even what I told myself. I said that I was excited out of my mind, how amazing it was going to be, I can't wait etc., but in reality I was so very scared that I was making the biggest mistake of my life. 

But walking back to my dorm from the deli, I realized something: I had done this before. Not walk back to my dorm, obviously I've done that before. But I was there, standing on the street corner, a bag full of warm food in my hand, and I was smiling. Not even consciously. It was one of those moments I suddenly realized I was smiling to myself, and that I should probably stop before the people around me become concerned. 

But, you know what? This has happened to me maybe three or four times just this week. 

Today, I was smiling because I had just had a conversation with some of the guys who work at the deli and learned that they were Greek. And before I left, we exchanged thank-you's in Greek, and I was reminded of earlier in the week, when I grabbed a bagel for lunch from a bagel shop, and the cashier recognized my face and we introduced ourselves to each other and shook hands. His name was Daniel. "That'll be easy to remember," I told him, and we laughed. 

I'm just describing encounters I've had with strangers, but I think that's the point. New Yorkers have this reputation for being unfriendly and rude, but honestly, those naysayers should go visit my hometown. I don't mean that everyone is a jerk there, but there's definitely something to be said about the Northern Virginia Scowl. Also, like, relax, we know you have the new iPhone and that your car is really nice. Can you not flaunt both at the same time? You're like, driving. 

Granted, New York City drivers are a breed of their own, but when they're not trying to run you over you can appreciate their creativity. 

Anyway, I just wanted to share that with all of you. I think it's important to mention the little stuff on here too. It's not all museums and lights and shows. A lot of it is the people here, too. And the traffic. 

I hope, wherever you live, that you love it there too. And if you don't-- get out of there man! I'm serious. Don't stay in a place where you can't find a stranger to relate to. Also, go somewhere with good, hot bagels. I'm telling you--pure bliss. 

-Danielle

Autumn in the City

Best. 

Hello all!

Sorry for not posting in a while...it seems that as the weather gets colder, I get busier. Just the universe's way of reminding me I chose to go to school in the north, I suppose.

Actually, the weather has been lovely these past few weeks. I've always been more of a spring and summer kind of person, but New York City is really charming in the fall. Blue skies, sunny, with just a little chill in the air. Just chilly enough to crack out the tights and cute boots and jackets.

Despite the blue skies, I don't trust this NYC autumn. I keep waiting for the morning when I'm going to walk outside and be punched in the face with winter. And then I'll be perpetually cold until April.

Floor/fam dinner

That's why I'm really trying to enjoy the city before it gets to that point. Every weekend I've been going someplace new-- Last weekend I visited the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, Central Park, and Astoria in Queens, and just today I went back to the Upper West Side to visit the American Natural History Museum.

Honestly, that's been my favorite thing about living here: I have so many opportunities for exploring at my disposal. Even where I'm located, in Greenwich Village, there are so many cool restaurants and coffeehouses and theaters...just last week, a local, indie movie theater held an event where they released the new Steve Jobs movie a week in advance, just for NYU students, for free. It was first-come, first-serve, so naturally there was a line from the door that stretched 4 blocks.

Beaut <3

It also just so happens that I was the last person they let into the theater, which was pretty freaking cool. The auditorium was gorgeous, and my seat wasn't half bad either.

Plus, the other night, my roommate and I were craving cupcakes. So we got up, walked 30 minutes to SoHo, and picked some up. Just like that.

Don't worry-- I'm not just sauntering throughout Manhattan all day and night, throwing my cash in the wind. I am in fact still going to class and doing my homework, and trying to limit my spending to (cheap) food and travel only. I mean, I live across The Strand, the most amazing bookstore in the whole world, and the fact I have not drained my bank account there yet is a true testament to the willpower I am exercising over here.

Hungarian pastries near Central Park

I am still struggling with the food though. I have taken to stock-piling home-cooked food my family brings me in the freezer, and ordering a lot of takeout. I have used our microwave in ways I never, ever wanted to before. I think the real issue is that I've been raised on my mom's food my whole life, and eating takeout, dining hall food, or microwavable soup (ugh), just does not compare. I'm still looking for the right balance. Not all the dining hall food is repulsive, and I've got to learn to take advantage of that food which is essentially already paid for, instead of giving half my tuition to GrubHub.

Anyway, it's almost 6:30 p.m., and that means I have to figure out what I'm eating for dinner. Again. Yippee.

-Danielle

Not About the Grades (But All About the Food)

My very own subway station

Before 10:30 this morning, I had already:
-walked 1.2 miles
-sat through a biology lecture (about ATP and energy if you must know)
-exchanged numbers with a girl in my science class (er'body wants my digits)
-eaten my first New York bagel (believe the hype)
-AND bought some epsom salt for my feet (NYC is destroying my feet)

This is essentially how busy I am every single day here. On Tuesdays and Thursdays my day starts particularly early because of my aforementioned 8 a.m. science class (I know), which means I also treat myself to some breakfast or coffee outside the realms of my university's dining hall.

The Arch at night, feat. Empire State Building

Trying different cheap restaurants and cafes has been a really fun part of living in the city for me. The other day some friends and I wanted ice cream, and instead we found a Popbar (which apparently are very trendy in California? This was the first time I've ever even heard of the concept) where we chose from a variety of popsicle flavors, and then dipped the popsicles in chocolate and toppings. It was probably the most hipster thing I've ever participated in.

The Freedom Tower near the 9/11 Museum

However, eating in the actual city versus within university buildings does in fact cost money. Lots of it. I figure spending money on things like food and groceries is better than, you know, going out on 5th Avenue shopping sprees every weekend, or like, using the money to buy crack, but it definitely adds up just the same. That goes for a lot of things in the city, too. I'm slowly learning that being a New Yorker as a student is not the same as being a New Yorker with a job and a steady income. There's still so much to see and do and experience, but without the cash, your options are definitely more limited.

Some random fair near the park! See next pic...

Being a college student does make you appreciate little things a whole lot more, though. Like today, when I sat down to eat my bagel and I took it out of the brown paper bag to find it warm and toasted and oozing cream cheese, I actually could have cried.

In the same way, it makes you appreciate and long for the things you no longer have consistent access to, like privacy. And absolute quiet. And non-paper products (Hugs and quality time with your family too. But don't tell them I said that).

It's not all bad though. In fact, for the most part, college is really, really awesome. My professors are all really passionate and interesting, class time is actually enjoyable and productive, and almost all of my classmates are engaged and generally interested in the topics being discussed. Basically, the exact opposite of high school!

...for amazing street food, eaten in the park that same, lovely day

There is a lot of reading assigned, and a lot of the reading involves authors with names like Thucydides, but I feel like I'm actively learning rather than working to get a good grade in a class. My writing professor told us in the first 15 minutes of our first class that if we were looking to take her course to get a good grade, we should make arrangements to drop. My first reaction was to nearly poo my pants (she's a pretty intense woman), but the more I thought about it, the more comfortable with the concept I became. I didn't come to college to hang a pretty report card on the fridge. I came to become a better writer. So come hell or scary writing teachers (I kid, she's awesome), I'm gonna learn in this institution. Let incriminating grade letters and numbers be damned.

I will need someone to remind me I said this when grades come out at the end of the semester however. Foot in mouth, and all of that.

There's so much to tell, but I only have two and half hours to read 30 pages of the History of the Peloponnesian War before my next class, so until next time...

-Danielle

I Am Freshman, Hear Me Roar

View from the Kimmel Center, 9th Floor

Hello friends and family! It seems that blogging in college is going to prove harder than it originally seemed. I have only been here for 6 days, and yet I feel like a month's worth of activities and socializing has already transpired. I have very quickly realized that college is less scary than it is incredibly and ridiculously busy.

And socially exhausting. I moved into my freshman residence hall on Saturday, along with 4,000 other students, and now it seems I must have exchanged numbers with at least a third of them. Every freshman here is caught in this very strange place where we want to make good friends as fast as possible, and in the process we end up reaching out to literally anyone with the uncertain gait and look of confusion tell-tale of a college newbie. It's totally overwhelming, especially for me who is used to being in a social environment for only 7 hours versus 24. But it's also really cool-- I've never met more people from so many different countries and places consecutively in my whole life (and, of course, made so much awkward, repetitive conversation with so many of them!). 

Some fellow Freshman I forced to be my friend at the University's Presidential Welcome in Madison Square Garden 

My typically chaotic desk

It's all been very surreal. But setting up my side of the dorm room, with all the stuff I associate with home, was actually the easiest part. In fact, having things like my favorite little pillow, my photographs, my DVDs, and my books in this new setting has made my transition feel a bit more normalized. I might have to familiarize myself with how to find dining hall food which is not a) perpetually cold, b) questionable, or c) hella expensive, but getting used to calling my little corner of the room comfortable and homey has not been an issue. This may be easier for me to say than other freshman considering I have A/C and heating at my disposal (not all residence halls do), but I'm certainly glad it worked out that way (for me...the other kids, I'm truly sorry. Manhattan humidity, I have come to learn, is its own, special breed of hell). 

We did see *Lake Bell walking back from Kmart one time

Other than that, I'm really just trying to get my bearings and learn as much about my surroundings as possible. Every day I become more confident in my route to Washington Square Park or the different university buildings in my area. The tricky part will be becoming comfortable outside the streets I've become used to taking every day, but all in good time. My roommates and I have already ventured to--prepare yourself--the local Kmart and CVS, so clearly we're making good ground. 

Speaking of roommates, mine are actually pretty awesome. I'm not just saying that because they follow me on Facebook (hi guys), but because I genuinely feel that I got so lucky being randomly paired with two very sweet and easy-to-live-with girls. Our triple room is connected by a spacious hallway to a double, which also houses two amazing people. We've already had a suite-mate conference, where we discussed all our concerns and ground rules in regards to living with each other, and agreed this made us the most mature and sophisticated suite on campus. Best of all, they're all CLEAN. They don't wear shoes to bed! They're conscious of how smelly food goes into the trashcan with a lid! The shower drain is never gross! Like I said, sophistication. 

First roommate selfie! They are still unaware of how many selfies I normally take! That will change!

Overpriced, pre-start of classes, celebratory Gelato

Classes have just begun, and now that my room is settled, my phone is bursting with Freshman names and contacts, and my roommates and I have established that if someone takes something of ours without asking they will be undoubtedly evicted, I'm officially ready to tackle this school year with a semi-excited state of mind. Luckily, I have a four day weekend (yay no Friday classes! Yay Labor Day!) to also tackle the mountainous load of reading I've been assigned on what I merely thought would be a "Syllabus Day" for each of my new classes. Stay tuned. It's bound to get uglier from here (mostly meaning I have to read the entire Epic of Gilgamesh before Wednesday and there's literally nothing I've ever wanted to do less). 

First NY slice!

Jordan Carlos Comedy Show

Stay "suite" y'all (that was for you, D-Naga),

-Danielle