Manfull's Handfull

I used to be positive that I peaked at the ripe age of 16. I flourished in high school, and probably a little too often felt like I, personally, owned the hallways of West High. I was skinny, with extremely long blonde hair and a brand new freshly braces-free smile. I finally lost all my baby-fat, and it was when I started to realize that I was, in fact, a girl. It was at 16 when I finally got a guy to notice me, and ended up snagging my first boyfriend. Yeah, 16 was a beautiful year. Then I got to college. Why did I ever think that I peaked in high school when I had so many more fun-filled years ahead at Iowa. I guess I didn't really do anything to that would qualify as "peaking", but I finally started to figure out who I was- and I knew I was more than just that skinny blonde girl from high school. Turning 21, I felt on top of the world, and that I was totally invincible- the day after really proved me wrong. My junior year I packed my bags and left for Ireland,  wher...

"When you die, it doesn't mean you lose to cancer. You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and the manner in which you live. "- Stuart Scott This is not the first time I've blogged about cancer, and I can guarantee this will not be the last. You see, there's something so evil about this disease, something so unfair about it's infectious control over undeserving people, that constantly pulls at my heart strings. I can't help but have all the feels when a new story surfaces about someone else fighting the cancer battle. It's hard to ignore that cancer affects millions of people every year- millions of families, friends, and children all battling for their lives every single year. Let that sink in. I often find myself thinking about how hard my life is. With school, jobs, starting a new series on Netflix, what to eat, etc. There are days where I just sit in self-pity and expect the world to cater to me and fix life's "horrible...

N*SYNC, Backstreet Boys, New Kids on the Block…ah, the childhood boys that painted my walls and who will always be my very first crushes (Lance Bass- I still can't believe you threw me for a loop with that one ). Anyway, these once boy-bands (BSB is most definitely a man-band now…and I don't hate it), are not simply just something of the past.  It just seems that each generation has a band that somehow defines them. The Beatles controlled the 60's, just as the Backstreet Boys ruled the 90's. But like I said, boy bands aren't dead- nope, they're very much alive now than ever before. Yes, I am 100% referring to the beautiful men who make up One Direction. Before you click away, you have to understand that not only these men are insanely attractive ….but they can out right sing . Whether or not you want to admit it, they're really good- like, put their new album on repeat good. Maybe I'm just a sucker for those European accents, alright I'...

We see sadistic headlines fronting newspapers every morning, we hear of corruption everyday as we turn on the news, this harsh reality is nothing new to viewers- we've been trained to numb the emotions the world curveball's us. Often times, we use sport as a way to escape our bleak reality, looking to rectify the heart-tugging headlines. But often, in hopes of rallying behind a team in search of happiness, we neglect to realize that sports are not institutions immune from reality. Sure, we see plenty of headlines regaling Mr. October, and the winner of this game or that, but all too often our sports heroes do something to shock us, and humanity as a whole. Terrifying tales of NFL hero's turned villains are a story too frequently revived. From OJ's infamous isotoners, to the damming elevator footage of Ray Rice knocking out his girlfriend. Especially in recent news, NFL Public Relations teams have been working overtime trying to fix each scandal before the next one e...

It's hard to believe that only a few years ago the game of soccer seemed nothing short of a call into the wind for majority of American sports fans. But judging by the fact that nearly every bar in downtown Iowa City was over capacity, bursting at the seams with people standing on tables and chairs just to watch the World Cup, I think the tide has turned when it comes to American soccer fans (finally). Some may think this plethora of new found fandom is nothing but a stint of bandwagon-ers. But I don't think that's the case, especially when it comes to a team that's essentially dripping red, white, and blue. When I think of jumping on the bandwagon, I envision a closet full of NBA jerseys, stacked chronologically from most recent championship winner…or any team that LeBron plays for. See, Bandwagon-er's usually identify with a single player, or a team that 'might be good' this year. But for the World Cup, American's don't identify with a single ...

“So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even when they're busy doing things they think are important. This is because they're chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.”-- Morrie Schwartz Ever since my return to the states, it's been unbelievably difficult to even fathom writing a blog. I'm pretty sure nothing my future holds for me will be as adventurous or monumental as "studying" abroad (there, I admit it- you don't actually study) had been. However, as I returned to my sweet, humble roots of the best fly-over state there is (ok, bias), I've discovered how wonderful it truly is to be able to appreciate every single second of each day- whether or not you're floating in a gondola down a Venice canal, or simply just walking ho...

"I look around myself wildly, my heart bursting with grief and fear and joy. I am leaving, but I will take this place and its stories with me wherever I go"- Jennifer Donnelly To be honest, this is going to be a difficult blog to compose. I'm in an unusual state of mind because my emotions are still running rampant through my body, pinging from my heart to my brain like a pin-ball machine racking up a new high-score of uncontrollable emotional memories. Less than 48 hours ago, my European adventures came to an end faster than I could have ever foreseen.  I was told that your time abroad goes by exponentially faster than time at home, but much like a stubborn child, I've never been one to believe in the nay-sayers (Santa is real). But, it breaks my heart to accept that the nay-sayers were absolutely right in this case: time whizzed by, faster than Usain Bolt chasing a cheetah. As I sit in my bed (my glorious, heavenly, non-hostle bed), I'm already struggling ...