Tuesday/Thursdays At 3pm

Yesterday in Playwriting class (our last official one of the semester), we were supposed to spend a good chunk of time reading each other's one-act scripts aloud and giving feedback. What happened instead was much more riveting. I wish I had a video, but I was too drawn in by the moment and didn't want to break the spell.
Our professor, the gently formidable and whimsical Mark Stevick (or just Mark, as he insists we call him), got swept up recounting the time he saw the play that changed the course of his entire life- Orphans, by Samuel French. I've seen this play (on Broadway with Alec Baldwin and Tom Sturrige, no less) , and it's indeed phenomenal. But I've never loved it more than I did yesterday. In some sort of dramatic illustration of the power of throwing your audience right into the middle of the action (or something- I don't fully remember what brought it on, and frankly, who cares?), he launched straight into the first scene of the play:
"'Come on out, Phillip! I ain't in the mood for no games. Where are ya, Phillip?' Phillip's crouched in the corner. 'Don't tag me.' 'I ain't gonna tag you.' 'I'm tired of bein' it, Treat.'" He switched from the growling older brother Treat to the wide-eyed, huddling Phillip in a fraction of a second, spitting out the lines word for word. There was this moment of confusion, then delight between all of us at our desks as we exchanged wondering glances, realizing he knew the script by heart. His entire body language and mannerisms changed instantly from character to character. It seemed of the utmost importance that we grasp the dramatic power of the words. "And then Harold clamps his arm around poor Phillip! *makes a thumping sound of an arm hitting a shoulder* 'Do you feel encouraged?' 'Yeah.' I mean it's-" 
He painted his entire evening in that West End theater, right down to the Coke he drank at intermission and the British accents of the theatergoers around him. "'Whatta ya think?' *British drawl* 'It's quite good, yea.'" When he got to the end, he was crouched down on the floor, acting out the final scene of the weeping brothers. Then he was himself again, miming the tears streaming down the face of his former, theater-going self. "My whole body turned into a clap. 'BRAV-F&*#!-NG-O!'" He lept into the air, clapping with his whole arms. As long as I live, I will never forget Mark Stevick's whole body turning into a clap. My hands were pressed over my mouth, surpassing my joyous giggling. I think I was crying a little. He was, too. He came down from his theatrical high, waxing nostalgia about the power of great theater and what it had meant to him that night, tears in his eyes. It was incredible. We all applauded raucously when he finished.

It's moments like this when I think- how can I leave? How can the year be over? How can I spend an entire fall away from these people, and from English classes? How dare I? Not that Mark Stevick holds it against me. When I responded to his email inviting me into his 400-level Literary Journal class saying that I'd be abroad in London, he was nothing but thrilled for me. "London!" he kept saying in the email. That's how it ended:
"All the best,
Mark

London!"

I can't do justice to him or the class. But I had to at least write it down. Here's a video of him I did manage to take one day. It's horrible, but I was having too much fun to focus the lens of my iPhone camera.

Anyways. Hope that is a partially-fun snapshot of my college career thus far. I'm almost halfway done! (No need to remind me of that, by the way. I'd like to remain in denial.)

A Grand Irish Metaphor

Here's a funny thing. You can retrace my recent life steps by looking at the places where I've interacted with Ireland. So let's do it. Buckle up, lads and lassies.

Music
So I still work at Chester's (score), and last night while pouring lattes, as the same Sleeping At Last songs and Jukebox the Ghost songs played on repeat for the millionth time, I realized I needed a musical upgrade. And recently I found it in The High Kings. They're folksy and melodic and fun. You've probably heard "Galway Girl," but guys. There's so much more.


(I've selfishly played this one in Chester's a couple times, and when the bagpipes kick in I get really wistful and patriotic without knowing why.)


(In case you haven't heard it, have fun.)

(This one isn't a recent find, but I'm pretty sure this singer is Irish. It's also from one of my favorite shows. It's the best song to listen to on rainy nights. Whenever I listen to it I cry a little. Including while I'm working.)

Chester's is a good segway into Sweaty Tooth (improv troupe) because this past Monday we actually did a free blizzard show during my shift (Is there a word for 100% stressed because there's a line for drinks out the door but 100% amused and joyful because you're simultaneously doing a scene from behind the counter? Because that was me.), so it's kind of a link to improv comedy. We have the College Comedy Festival coming up in a week! Tons of colleges from the greater Boston area bring their teams to compete in different categories and I like to think that it's where the next SNL stars are formed, or something. We've been doing zany drills and different games to prepare for it and build our confidence, and it's super intimidating, but then I go listen to bits of Amy Poehler's audiobook again and remember that just maybe I can do anything. Maybe?

Romance
I saw the movie Brooklyn recently. First of all, wow. Go see it. Second of all, go listen to the film score. Thirdly, I saw it with Josh. (Who's Josh?) For those of you who don't know...

We're dating. I call him lots of things, but one title I'm trying out is boy-o because it sounds (you guessed it) Irish. That's pretty much all you need to know. 

But also, the Brooklyn score is fantastic and beautiful and I listen to it while walking to class in the mornings and trying not to slip on the ice and snow. 

Oh, the snow! Yeah, that's a super awesome thing that I'll probably never tire of. 

I have better boots this year. They make me feel beautiful and powerful. I've made a couple distinct, non-invasive paths across the quad that gets me from my dorm to the library or the arts building, and I step in the same boot-holes every time I use them. I like to think that the reason the rest of the lovely field of snow hasn't been disturbed yet is because others are using my path too (not just that I'm the only dork who wants to trek through the snow).

The U.K. in general

This one's kind of a big deal. I'm thinking about going to London for the fall semester of junior year. (Yikes!) The London Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts (LAMDA for short- Benedict Cumberbatch went there, as did many notable performers) has a classical acting semester program that I'm applying for. There are many wonderful things that doing so might entail (Ireland and Scotland are literally RIGHT THERE, for example, and I'd have my own small apartment in freaking LONDON), but one possible con is that it might mean I can't do a double major in English. 

Because I recently became an English minor! (Whaaaaa-?!) I know, right? It's amazing. For my intro class, we just read poetry and short stories and journal about them. Then we go to class and our professor reads us children's books and we have amazing discussions. I wish I was kidding. (No I don't.) It's too good to be true. 

Meanwhile, I'm updating my acting resume for my application (and Gordon's spring show that I just auditioned for- another life event for you) and staring at pictures of the Cliffs of Moher trying to imagine what it would be like to actually be there.

So there ye have it. Some of it, anyway. I'm still working on figuring out if I have a spirit animal, but if a person can have a spirit culture (is that a thing? and is it offensive?), mine might be the Irish.

Chapter Two

It's been a while. Too long. So much has happened in such a short time since being back at Gordon, and I don't even know where to begin. Adventures! Friendships! Theater classes! Improv! Sophomore year hit the ground running.

Let's talk about the woods.

I've been spending a lot more time out here lately, thanks to my slightly lighter class schedule and awesome weather. There are so many more trails behind campus than I realized! Often, I'll go out in the morning only intending to find quiet nook to read in for an hour, only to stumble out mid-afternoon with pine needles and flowers in my hair, exhausted and happy, having discovered 3 new favorite spots. I'll explore, read, listen to music, and sometimes picnic. Occasionally I'll venture out with one or two adventure companions, but mostly I just explore on my own. It's awesome. 

Speaking of friends, I gained a whole new group when I made it onto Gordon's improv troupe, the Sweaty-Toothed Madmen! Seriously, these 8 people are the coolest; it's a privilege to be counted as one of them. Aside from the fact that they all have awe-inspiring talent and our rehearsals consist of dancing around onstage and pretending to be chicken farmers or dentists or royalty, they've all become like family to me immediately. We go on McDonald's runs at 1am and have photoshoots and a group text and movie nights. It's no big deal. 

Other than that, life is a lot of things. It's rehearsing in practice rooms for Musical Theater and sprinkling cinnamon on customer's drinks at Chester's. It's Monday night hot chocolates with Austin and Friday afternoon tea-and-reading-time on the beach with Josh and Merisa. It's making Cate and I's third-floor room in Wilson (affectionately dubbed The Birdhouse) look as adorable as humanly possible with coordinating comforters and fluffy pillows and yes, a tiny birdhouse that we are going to paint and hang on the door. It's letters from Madison at New Tribes and phone calls from Mom after class and new friends and old friends. It's the great exhilaration of starting new things and comfortable warmth from picking up old ones. 

In conclusion, sophomore year is the best and I can't wait for it to be cold. 

Oh, and here's the most recent awesome song I've found:

I love this feeling,

but I hate this part...

You're Never Done, and That's Okay

Here I am, back in my fluffy, blue/white/gray comforter, the year of college and pretend adulthood melting away to reveal that I am still, in fact, a child. I'm thinking about the possible summer jobs I could end up with in the next week or two, and mentally ranking them from "Sure why not" to "never in a million years." I'm preparing to go downstairs and shop for used cars with my dad. I'm imagining my goals for the 3 years of college I have left, and even the weird, foggy possibilities of what might happen after that, and trying unsuccessfully to connect myself with the term "career." And I was listening to Amy Poehler's book on Audible, as my cat snored at my feet in a fluffy ball, and she helped me realize something I should have figured out years ago:

The thing you do is not the thing you are.

You can spend a lifetime (or in my case, a couple school years) struggling, slaving, and reaching for the thing you think you want (two years ago, it was a transcript good enough to merit any school I wanted, including Ivy League, and simultaneous stardom on a high school level; now, it's probably stardom on a collegiate level, including but not limited to: being on the improv troupe and therefore included in the coolest friend group of all time, lead roles in all the shows, the perfectly effortless style, and mild celebrity because of my glowing personality), and two things will happen. 1) you will never actually get there, or have a mountaintop "I made it!" moment, and 2) even if you do, it won't be enough.

And Amy was right. I thought about graduation, and finishing AP tests, and all the times people asked me if I felt accomplished or proud or satisfied that I had "finished." But I didn't, because I think I always knew I was never really finished. You are never actually done. The "end product" will never satisfy you, because it's not the end.

But here is the thing I was missing. You don't have to care about the results of what you do, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't care about the doing of it. There is a difference between valuing how good you are at something and valuing how good the rest of the world thinks you are at it. It's the border between apathy and ambivalence, between careless and carefree. 
This is what I missed for so long. All my efforts meant nothing to me if the Great and Powerful College Board didn't look at me and say "Wow! What an amazing student and person! You are truly one of a kind. Any school would be lucky to have you." But I couldn't stop caring altogether, because then I would be a bad student. I was trapped in a horrible system that I'd constructed myself.

I want college to be different. This week during my end-of-year interview with the theater department, one of the professors told me to "embrace instability." To ignore my ingrained instincts and ability to do a Very Good Job and do what I think is expected of me, and instead not be afraid to ruffle a few feathers if it means finding something new and inspiring about myself.

I say that like I'm going to do it. I might not. But I'm going to try.

Thanks Amy. (Is it okay if I call you that?)

April's Foreboding Showers

Everyone around me is complaining about how strenuous their nights of not studying for finals are, wearing Birkenstock sandals, and asking each other every five minutes "how excited" they are for summer to start. No one every says what exactly summer holds that make it so enticing... I think they're just ecstatic about concept.

I'm all for warm weather and adventures, but pretending that I'm "so ready to be out of here" with everyone else is draining. Because I'm not. Ready. I like it here. Why is everyone so ready to leave? We just got here. Some people are leaving for good, because they're graduating. Is no one else bummed about that? If I were those seniors I'd be terrified.

When I wake up here each morning, I know what will happen. I know exactly what's expected of me and there are people each day that I'm excited to talk to and it's all very comfortable and familiar. I don't want that to change. I think I'm putting off hunting for cardboard boxes because the thought of packing up my dorm room is just too overwhelming. I don't want to wake up in a room that isn't this one, with nothing to look forward to each day.

I don't want to hunt for a boring, fluorescent-lit, minimum wage job that will drain my sunny days and will to live. I don't want to scour used car lots for an aged car with personality that I can give people rides in with pride only to get stuck with a smelly, beige Toyota that I despise. I don't want to have to wait for weekly phone calls to hear the voices of the people here that I love instead of sauntering over to their bedroom. I don't want to be bored and lonely and stressed for two months. Why would I?

So to answer your question: no, I'm not excited for finals either, but not for the reason you think.

It Was a Sweats-Only Week

As I should probably have expected, registering for even the most mundane of classes next semester sent me spiraling into a "what-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-whole-life" abyss of despair:

Okay, so I have to take Scientific Enterprise because core classes or whatever but I will only take it during the 1:15 slot so I can take that cool Shakespeare acting class OH what if I took a class where I analyzed classical music and got to be all hipster and spend an hour 3 days a week being pretentious and knowing stuff about the Renaissance, that exists right, I could do it after yoga, but wait Musical Theater is at the same time as Creative Writing so I can't take it until junior year but that was when I wanted to go "abroad" which might just end up being a semester in LA but like how cool would it be to actually hop off a plane at LAX with a dream and a cardigan JUST ONCE, that could be cool and I could get an internship at BuzzFeed or something and have swivel chair races through the office with Zach Kornfeld and become BFFs and then when I came back to make a real living I'd already have pals who knew how hilarious and adorable I was but wait would I like, MOVE there because I'm not a city person and HOLD UP I still have to live in Europe at some point but if I'm going to actually for real be in movies in real life I should probably get on that, I mean why don't I actually have an agent yet, I wonder if Matt knows where to find one, he probably has like a billion New York connections by now, wow I'm so behind in the industry and I'm not even there yet but WAIT A SECOND how do I only have 12 credits, they scheduled all the good classes at the same time why do they do that??? 

Somehow I've found myself in Power Yoga, Advanced Shakespeare Acting, Environmental Science, and Survey of Musical Masterworks all at the same time and my income has yet to exceed nine dollars an hour. But it's cool. I'm still in the campus bubble.

For now.

The White Masterpiece

When you have to shed 3 layers just to sit down in class without spontaneously combusting, or you've  run out of warm-enough socks long before laundry day, or you've trudged through the millionth snowdrift just to get to your dorm, it's easy to complain with everyone else that winter will never end and why can't it just be warm again and so on and so forth.

But tonight, as I gaped at pristine, untouched, massive drifts and took a bite from one (yes, I ate snow- it was perfectly face-level, can you blame me?) and watched the sparkly, cold white fairy dust swirl and dance around itself in corners and under streetlights and across the snowplowed pathways that quickly filled up again, I couldn't help but feel a little magical about it.

Yes, I have moments where I hope I never have to tug on these mediocre-quality, clunky, gaping-open-at-the-top snow boots. Yes, I feel like a marshmallow every time I pass girls wearing nothing but leggings, a North Face and those cute, hand-knit ear warmer/headband things (that I will never wear) while I'm wearing 3 pairs of pants and 2 sweaters and a huge coat and a giant scarf(yes, the leggings/Uggs/fleece jacket trend never actually goes away just because it's 12 degrees and windy at 3pm). Yes, it might be nice to be able to do something with my hair besides stuff it inside my coat and pull it out, snarling at me and frizzy with static, hours later.

But come on:

You can't help but be wistful whilst walking through this every day and night.

I'm also sort of glad it's been so windy today and yesterday. It means that no matter how diligently Snow Crew plows the walkways through campus (and to be honest, it's not incredibly effective to begin with), there will always be a few inches to walk through at all times, and I like the excuse to walk through snow. It makes keeping my head down against the freezing wind not so bad when I can watch my toes kick through fresh powder. I'm still dying to wade all the way across the quad at least once, but I should probably do some leg workouts first. (Some of the unplowed areas are almost chest deep at this point. Not kidding.) 

Never take the glory of nature for granted. It's majestic and creative and is practically screaming at us to look up and acknowledge the coolness of the God who imagined it. 

The branches have traded their leaves for white sleeves,
all warm-blooded creatures make ghosts as they breathe 

Catnap Appreciation

I've never been one for naps. I either a)lay half-awake for 30 minutes before falling dead asleep for 3 hours, wake up not knowing where I am and remain groggy for the rest of the day, or b)lay half-awake for 30 minutes before falling into that weird state where you're having 10 dreams at once but you're never completely asleep for about 40 minutes, whereupon I still wake up disoriented and groggy.

But: can we take a brief moment to appreciate the fact that I took not one, but two successful, single-hour naps today?!
One was after lunch when I was super tired for no reason, and the second was between tonight's callbacks for the spring show (which ended just after 10), and my closing shift at Chester's (12:30 to 2:30am). I finally get all the hype! I wasn't jumping with energy afterwards, but it was just the little amount of sleep needed to take the edge off my drowsiness.  

(Downside: it's 3:20am and I've never been more awake in my life. However, that might be because of the rare cup of actual, caffeinated coffee I drank at the beginning of my shift.)

[This has been: A Moment of Excitement Over A Totally Normal Occurrence.]

The Difference Between High School and College

Orientation ended back in late August and I was suddenly in the midst of that world that everyone talks about, the world that's the setting for many a film, the one I've heard will have the biggest impact on me than any other in my life. I don't know what I was expecting, but a few things have surprised me about it in the best way possible, and awakened me to the liberating reality that I do not miss high school one tiny bit. (Good thing I didn't get attached.)

-Staying up till 3 on a Tuesday night is a normality, but not because you're torturing yourself over homework. It'll be because your group spontaneously decided it was time for a Harry Potter marathon, or an impromptu trip for doughnuts and pizza before engaging in a high-stakes Nerf war in the dorm basement. Speaking of which...

-I have a group. I've never had a group before. I've had one or two friends in several different social spheres, but never a pack of my own. We have a group text to coordinate family dinners. What on earth?

-But that doesn't mean they're my only friends, either. I can't go anywhere without encountering at least 5 people that I have to say hi to and possibly hug, and how's their week going and that's a great sweater and we should hang soon and it was great to see you for the third time this week. By no means am I wildly popular, but I have more friends than I've ever had and it's kind of awesome.

-When you want to see someone, you can just... walk to their actual bedroom and start a conversation right where you left off the last one. I don't just go to school with these people. I live with them. They are intertwined into every aspect of my daily life, essentially making them my family. When I was home for Thanksgiving, I had the strange realization that outside of college, when you want to see a friend, you just have to... wait... until the next time you see each other.

-All those things that I cared about in high school? The completeness of every mundane homework assignment, whether or not so-and-so liked me or was mad at me or cared if I did anything, how impressive my transcript or extracurriculars looked? None. Of. It. Matters. No one talks about what scholarships they got, who was valedictorian or class president, or any of that. It's the best thing that could have happened, because I hated caring about that stuff to begin with.
Even to the most dedicated, high-stress college student, at the end of the day grades are just grades. 
Everyone understands that the things we remember about college won't be academic-related. For someone who's been an overachieving perfectionist their whole life, it's a freedom like no other.

-On a related note, all the prexisting requirements for "cool" are almost nonexistent. There is almost no fame attached to the members of student government, star athletes, people whose parents have a pool, the hot girls who have more friends than all the other girls. Being who you are is cool, and being different doesn't make you an outsider. It feels like a slap in the face to the people that "mattered" in high school for those other reasons, and for some sick reason I love it. I don't miss them.

-I don't even miss the kids I talked to every day, the ones I genuinely liked. Occasionally a faint memory of my few best friends comes to mind, and perhaps I wish they were with me, but that's it, because I don't want to leave where I am, even for them. Is that absolutely terrible? On the other hand, if I go a couple days without seeing my current friends, something feels horribly wrong. It's true what they say, about which friends you keep forever: it's the ones you meet in college.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When new people ask where I live, I don't say Virginia. I say Massachusetts. It's sort of unbelievable, but this is my home now. Which is problematic, since college is by definition an impermanent thing. But this will be the longest I've ever been in one place, and I think I'm okay with that. I'll stay a while.

November Adventure Bucket List

Now that this giant gem of a fall show is over and my days just expanded by several hours, I want to use them with gusto. So without further ado, here are some excursions upon which I wish to embark, in no particular order.

• Find the nearest animal shelter/pet store with a room that lets you play with the puppies and kittens and just spend a solid hour letting furry animals soothe my soul.

• Go to a planetarium show. (Everything inside me longs for this more than I can express.)

• Spend several hours in Boston by myself, just walking around or maybe touring a museum.

• Visit the aquarium and giggle with glee at the fishes and turtles and jellyfish and such.

• Go to Chili's. I haven't eaten there in forever and there is a whole in my heart that only unlimited chips and salsa and Molten Chocolate Cake will satisfy.

• Find a new woodland trail and spend an afternoon taking pictures with friends there.

• Visit a pentecostal church and unabashedly praise with my whole body.

• Learn the Around the World swing dancing move so I can return to the Debauchery Swing club with something up my sleeve. Also, the Helicopter.

• Finish figuring out GarageBand and then go to Philips and whip out piano covers of Painting Roses, West, and a couple others. Then mix them and add harmonies and such and maybe post them on SoundCloud if they're good.

• Get better at riffing on the ukulele by watching Jake Shimbakuro tutorials on YouTube and crying a little.

• Bake cookies with the Quad Squad and then watch Inception. Or Lord of the Rings. Or anything, really.

• Write more letters. To relatives. To old friends. To new friends. To Santa. (Wait what?)

• Continue to attempt abstract watercolors and continue to turn out grade-school-level blobs of color that vaguely resemble a landscape. 

• Acquire more hats. (I don't really need more time for that, it's just something I want to do.)

My spontaneity level is either about to skyrocket or plummet. Fingers crossed. 

First Snow

Sweater-wrapped palms
suppress breathy giggles
that bubble
from that place
I forgot was still
inside me
the place that doesn't
care that class
won't be canceled

the rough patch
in the middle of my
tongue is permanently
scorched from all
the times
I sipped too soon,
dunked my nose
into whipped cream
and sank my shoulders
into booths with
blissful sighs

so I tie the belt
on my coat with the
satisfying tug
of a secret agent,
feel the wind
bite my nose
and make it blush,
complain
with the rest
that my toes are numb,
and bury my palms
in my damp
sweater sleeves.

Omelet Fridays

There's something serendipitous
about the way I walk to breakfast
alone each morning,
the way the route never changes
but the scenery always does

and I never know
if a year from now
someone will look over
and notice
and wonder why

or will it just be me
and my meaningless
beautiful
rituals?

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.

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.

Update

I'm eating a bag of pretzels in a comfy library chair, listening to Spotify next to a backpack of my (nearly) finished homework, feeling like the cool, casual, studious quintessential college kid that I undoubtably am.

I have a gorgeous, mint green bike with a basket. I have bags of tea and a hot water heater in my dorm. I have lots of sweatshirts. I have friendly and crazy intelligent professors. I have access to relatively delicious food. I have dozens of acquaintances. I have a gorgeous woodland path where I can retreat at any time.

I don't have envelopes in which to seal letters home. I don't have the willpower to go to the gym. I don't have the bravery to email the sophomore RA dude that yes, I am interested in all-hall worship. I can sing. I can kind of sing. I don't have the confidence to dress exactly the same every day and gaily bounce up to people I don't know. I don't have air conditioning in my room. I don't have a church (yet).

I don't have friends.

But I have a lovely roommate, a bed, clothes, woodland paths, and God. So those will tide me over. The rest remains to be seen.

Stay tuned.

Into The Light

A wise person once told me that the question is not who are you, but rather, who are you today? Over the past couple days, I've discovered that it's become something like- who am I this at this particular moment? Do I like them? More importantly, who else might?

For example, an hour ago my favorite song was Simple Song, yet as I walked back to Fulton a few minutes ago I couldn't think of any tune more lovely than Any Way. This morning, I was a girl without glasses with a perfectly placed side braid, but tonight I was an adorable, glasses-wearing free spirit who wore loose sweatshirts and untamed wavy locks.

But somewhere in between the worship jam sesh and tedious trek back up the hill, I discovered that maybe these miniature facets and personalities of Abigail Erdelatz are only hints at who she is truly becoming, and the final picture may include all or none of the rough drafts.

Because there are like-minded friends, and there are like-hearted friends. And the like-minded ones may love one of the rough drafts as if it's the final project, but it takes a like-hearted soul to see through the revision process to the masterpiece that is yet to be. These are the souls that will then help pull such a masterpiece into the light. The ones that lift the burden of the rough drafts. The ones I hope to find.

Have I found any such gems of human beings? It remains to be seen. But I have a slightly less foggy picture of what to look for, and that's something to rejoice over, isn't it?

Dis-Orientation Weekend

Well guys, I've arrived.

*looks around*

*twiddles thumbs*

....Yeah. 

College.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple things:

-My room is an oven.

-The air is brisk already.

-There are little to no opportunities to be alone.

-Icebreakers. Hate them. Forced friendship? No thanks.

-My triple room may yet become a double. More space!

-The paths are beautiful, though unexplored.

-I have this inexplicable urge to make pancakes.

-And play an instrument. All the time. 

I think that's all I can comprehend just yet.

Stay tuned.