The Latest in Musical Discoveries

It's been a while since I've posted my latest favorite songs, mostly because it's rarely ever one song. But in this case, it's an artist: Andrew Bird.

I was sitting in Chester's the other night, partaking in warm chai and invigorating conversation with a couple friends, and suddenly the room was flooded with this magical music that perfectly echoed the fullness of my heart at that moment. (We were talking about God's amazing provision, manifested in the coolness of astronomy and my getting a role in the play, among other things, and I was overwhelmed with how blessed I was in that moment). I leapt up from my seat, ran over to the counter and requested the name of the song and artist. To my delight, Andrew Bird is one of those rare artists whose every song (not just one or two) hits some part of my soul in a unique way.

Friends, partake in my delight:


(the song playing at Chester's that night)



(a lovely instrumental I've taken to listening to in the mornings)

College Mornings, Sans Cat

It's hard to wake up
without the warm, furry solidity
of my cat under my arm and comforter
reminding me that mornings
are meant for snuggling,
not busyness.

But college is nothing
if not rushed,
so I hurry up and out
through lectures
and cans of soup
and a Granny Smith apple

Until I can retire again
to my comforter
and the pale glow
of moonlight
through the vertical blinds

When morning reappears,
I tug my arms into a sweater
to find brown and white cat hairs,
preemptively shed back in June,
reminding me again-
the best moments are never rushed.

Weekend Hypocrisy

In the most joyous moment of college thus far, I got a lead in my first college show and cried in my dorm as the awesomeness just rolled over me. I feel like it's important that that's been acknowledged.

Other than that...

I have a roommate who likes Netflix marathons at 9:30pm. I have a cool girl named Elise that likes sleepovers when one of our roommates is gone and having weird crushes on people and will eat with me even if she has to say hi to six people before she makes it to my table. I have a squad of 4 guys who eat enough for 3 people at every meal and mainly sit around their room listening to rap music, but sometimes they let me sit in there with them. I have a group text full of my La Vida girls that will sometimes cause my phone to light up when one of them asks if I want to eat a meal with them. I have an adopted older brother that will get a late-night chocolate with me at least 3 times a week and talk about life. 

Those people are the ones that have kept me going. But on the weekends, when they're all either off-campus or hanging out with other people, I end up walking around campus aimlessly wishing I had more than 3 numbers in my phone, or going for a walk around the pond because "I really just wanted some alone time anyway."

The truth is, I'm lonely most of the time. And I'm tired of people telling me to find friends instead of actually being my friend. It forces me to follow impressive people around and wait for them to tell me I'm cool rather than just calling up someone and going to the mall at a moment's notice. 

Note to sophomore/junior self: Don't you dare be too cool to be friends with freshmen. Most of them don't have cars, and they desperately want someone to drag them off campus, and if you treat them like adults they won't act like kids. But having a superiority complex will only cement you inside your boring circle and make the people that deserve friendship feel like they're not worth the time. 

Because that's what keeps running through my head. I'm just not worth the time. 

This Morning's Daydreams

When I have a daughter, instead of dressing her during her little kid years, I'm going to ask her every day what she wants to wear. She wants to wear rain boots, a tutu, and overalls at the same time? Go for it. She wants to combine every orange item she owns? Awesome. Every morning will be its own fashion show.

I'll never tell her not to splash in mud puddles because she'll get her dress dirty. I'll help her learn anything she wants, whether it's embroidery or power tools or tap dancing or kung fu. I'll never tell her a chapter book is too far above her reading level.

When she's six and asking all the questions she's too young to understand the answers to yet, I'll give her the best, most magical answers I can come up with until she figures out the boring answers. Santa will answer all her letters, and always leave a present for the cat, but she'll know the real meaning of Christmas like she knows her own name. And speaking of her name, if she doesn't like it, she can make another one up until she does.

Storytime will be as important as dinnertime. Dinnertime will sometimes be ice cream, or brownies, or Captain Crunch. Rainy days will be play days, so she'll learn to never let the weather get her down. And when she's honest about her mistakes, she'll get a consequence... and a cookie. That way when she's seventeen and wrecks the car, the first person she'll call is me, and I'll be at the scene with a whole batch.

See you someday, little princess.

Hesitantly Brightening

Flower flower, don't you worry
flower flower, there's no hurry
flower flower, don't you cry
your day will come before you die

For the past week, I find myself singing this little tune to myself as I hop on my bike or walk down the hill or push through the same doors as everyone else and try not to bump into people. College so far is a series of opportunities that I feel either not qualified to take part in or not brave enough to attempt to take in the first place. But every time, I sing this song and sigh and let a breeze filter through my hair as my green bike whisks me away and somehow, it's not the end of the world.

Today I also realized I've gotten into this habit of walking into rooms unsure if I'm supposed to be there. I realized that certain sweaters or ways of arranging my hair create my feelings about myself on any given day instead of revealing them.

Everyone is just so put together here, and I have this urge to be effortlessly beautiful, because to me true beauty is that which doesn't realize it is beautiful. And as the air gets cooler and the leaves get ready to brighten, I can feel the world coming into its own beauty and I want nothing more than to do the same. But I don't know how.

Also, I can tell fall is going to give me unrealistically romantic expectations about life and love (for example, did you know that a hundred laptop keyboards clicking and typing sounds exactly like rain hitting tree leaves?), and I'd better decide what to do with those crazy chemicals.

That's about it for this week.

Stranger Travels

"So Abigail, where are you from?"

I am from the lesser-known
The habited colonies of the nooks and crannies
From the mermaid lagoon on the Rappahanock River
The coral crags on the East China Sea
And cluttered passports
filled to the brim with layovers
the unplanned 12 hours in Shanghai
and airport orange chicken

Home is not a main street
and the same 3 best friends

My roads are thumbtack trails
across paper maps
my neighborhoods are various
Terminal A's
or E's
or C's
and places that say more
than people ever could

I have no space
or time
for wall murals
or gardens
or scrapbooks in the traditional sense

To see the adventures
I merely trace the scar on my thumb
twist my sun-bleached hair between my fingers
pick the scraped skin from the soles of my feet
the places where my skin has ripped, torn
and sewn itself together again

I run my fingertips over the stitches
on my heart
opened too many times
from the ripping-out of
forgotten friends

But higher education doesn't believe in Band-Aids,
do they?
Just study groups
rectangular tables
and the occasional kind soul
over a cup of chai