New York City adores me and I adore it:

A month ago, I traveled with my lovely Model United Nations team to spend four days in a grueling academic conference and five days roaming the city doing whatever we pleased. My bedmate and instant friend, Elisabeth, became my travel companion. Both of us had been to New York City previously, so all the top tourist sites were already checked off the list. Thus, together we mastered the subway system, sought out the best brunch places, toured museums, visited fancy parks, and wore our poshest trench coats around the city.

Below are the highlights:

New York's men in blue at the St. Patrick's Day parade.

Bagpipers at the parade. (But wait, bagpipers are Scottish, not Irish. Whatever,  they're cool.)

Obligatory Times Square picture post Latin clubbing. Thanks Carlos.

Bloomingdale's and their live models.

This is what I hope heaven looks like. Argosy Used Books.

Don Draper hunting on Madison Avenue.

Next trip: Athens.

Teddy Roosevelt and me hanging outside the Met.

An imported Egyptian tomb. Imhotep?

Hello, Marie Antoinette.

Gourmet macaroni and cheese. I could eat this all day.

My boys.

Meet Adam, representing Morocco, and our best delegate.

Posh bar with my German love.

Literally winning every award they offer.

UN Headquarters.

Central Park. Yes, Serena and Chuck were here.

Meatpacking District's skyline.

The city suits me.

Georg is coming out!

For all of you who have been following my medical saga, the surgery is on again. It is scheduled for May 7th at Oregon Health and Science University in Portland. In two months, I will be cut open and my sweet, but pesty tumor, Georg, will be scooped out. Goodbye to my perfectly formed stomach, hello five-inch scar. I will be in the hospital two to four weeks after the surgery and then resting at home for the rest of the summer.

Do think of me, my loved ones. Do not forget me while I waste away from boredom at home. I will be reading lots of books and welcome any suggestions.

I love you all, and if I do not survive, please tell the world how much I loved cats. Please start a cat charity in my name.

Thanks.

At least the hospital is literally in one of the prettiest parts of Portland.

Graphic of the panc. It's probably the ugliest organ in the body.

I honestly think I suck at life.

However, in other news, I really like this song:

In honor of Emily:

There is not anyone like you in the world. I mean that. Emily, I miss you tons. There is no one else who makes me laugh like you do. In honor of you, I thought I would share the assortment of Richard Armitage memes we made. Remember this? Because I do. And I still cannot stop laughing about them.

Obsessions are more fun than homework:

Okay, so it's been awhile. I guess life has been so fluid lately that I haven't developed a lot of new rants, but I can update you on my current obsessions. Ladies and gentlemen, the list of the week:

1. Doing whatever I can to look like Zooey Deschanel. She is my style, fashion, hair, everything icon. Bottom line, you're beautiful and I want all your clothes. Hats off to the What Would Zooey Wear blog for satisfying my daily obsession with her New Girl outfits: http://wwzdw.com/.

2. The Anthropologie sale section. They added 300 new items last week. I probably shouldn't be giving this away because then all you short, skinny girls will take all the size 2 petites.

3. Moose tracks ice cream. Is there really anything to say about this except that if I was presented with a bowl of this ice cream or Jude Law to make out with, I might choose the ice cream? It tastes that heavenly.

4. The Civil Wars. Makes me want to put on a Scarlett O'Hara curtain dress and prance around the grounds of a plantation house in the South. Anyone for a trip to Georgia? Plus, they're husband and wife duo; it's adorable.

Weekly Update:

Number of midterms next week: 5 (deathly)
Number of trips to the gym this week: 0 (very bad)
Number of chocolate bars this week: 3 (improvement)
Number of TV shows watched: 2
Number of nights in the library: 0 (unproductive)
Number of positive thoughts: 15
Number of stressed out, negative thoughts: 294
Number of phone calls to my mom: 2 (better)
Number of hours of sleep: 39 (excellent)

To my best friend:

Yesterday, I dropped off my best friend at the Missionary Training Center in Provo. For the next eighteen months, we will be completely separated. No contact, no snuggle seshes, no late night phone calls, no ridiculous text messages that make me laugh uncontrollably during class, no facebook spamming. There only thing we have is hand written letters. I guess I shouldn't complain because 1) she's serving the Lord, and 2) boys serve for twenty-four months. And yet, as I watched her walk into that building, I felt like a piece of me went in with her.

Emily, you have been my best friend for ten years. Okay, minus that time in ninth grade when we didn't speak for two months. I don't even remember what the fight was about, but it ended with us calling each other and laughing for hours about the ridiculousness of it all. Sure we have other friends, other really close and amazing friends, but there is no one quite like you in my life. You are the only one who really understands me, the only one who I can be completely my self around--or the craziest, weirdest version of myself--the only one who I don't care if I cry in front of, the only person who makes me laugh so hard I want to cry or pee, or both, the only one who I can watch BBC dramas with for hours and hours, the only one who I talk about boys, love, sex and not worry about judgment. We have so many great memories from the past years and there are so many more memories in store for us in the future. Here's to seventy more years of jaw-droppingly magnificent friendship.

You are going to be the best missionary this world has ever known. It's hard for me to be apart from you, but I know that you are having the time of your life. You have a gift for communication and an overwhelming love for people. People are naturally drawn to you. That gift--the gift of empathy and love and passion for people--will be one of your greatest assets on your mission. Your decision to serve a mission is going to help so many people. All I can say is you're going to do great things and even though I'm going to miss you every day, I am so proud of you. God speed, dearie!

Zsa Zsa Gabor:

Okay, you're beautiful. Can I be you?

Ten Things I will never understand:

1. Why some people don't like chocolate.
2. Why people my age (and older) love Pixar movies so much.
3. Why my extended family assumes I must have the same wacky, conservative views as my dad.
5. Why cats are so cute.
6. Why people ask questions like, "How are you?" without caring about the response.
7. Why people have such a hard time with contractions versus possession.
8. Why my mom let me quit dance.
9. Why I don't have more money.
10. Why people get married so quickly.

September 11, 2001

As a child, there was a distinct moment when I realized that the world was not all rainbows, barbies, and hair bows. The moment when I realized there are bad people in the world who do terrible things. There is no monster in bathtub drain or sharks under the bed, but there are real people who seek to hurt people. And every generation shares a day of tragedy when that epiphany is realized or relived. For our grandparents, it was December 7th, 1941; for our parents is was November 22nd, 1963; and for us it was September 11, 2001. I know this post is a few days late, but I felt like I needed to add to the conversation. To me, the memory of 9/11 doesn't entice me to hatred or fear. It was a terrible day, but once the dust settled, we chose to crawl from the rubble, stand tall, and be strong. The country was a country of hope after the attacks, and that entices me to be proud.