super.

duper.

new mexico.

by the way,

pad thai and a theological library.
i adore your story.




don't go far.
monday nights.


thanks for being home, my fellow bloated fortune telling fairy.




you're filled with honesty and light.
the world is glad to have you around.



i am theodore and you like peanut butter.



ready for a walk or two. or five.




Winter quarter 2009.
Check.

why the world should take color theory.

because studying for a final is mixing paints and playing with ideas of pure light and color spheres.

assymetrical.

She wears a thousand silver bracelets on her right wrist.
With a expo marker in one hand and a curled up, outdated text in the other, she pulls every eye up from their squeaky desk. She paces. Arms up over her head. Leans against the white board with her chunky boots crossed in front. Her voice, that voice that tastes of her british childhood, covered in confidence, perfectly calloused by life, carries truth found in hope; the voice that you can't help drink in pulls a picture of divine love into a room full of young, nervous hearts with twitchy feet. She lifts her hand. She presses the crease of her text with her pointer finger to keep it from folding itself.
Her outfit doesn't make sense. She doesn't know how to use the computer. She smells a lot like musky perfume and a little like cigarette. She's not a clever puzzle to piece together. No costume. No flowery words. No band aids. No botox.

She is. She just is.
She knows she wasn't a mistake.
This hyper, cynical, scarred, disorganized woman was completey and perfectly on purpose.
She knows it.

She warns us of trivial finish lines. She tells us love is never still. She reads aloud and laughs with Flannery O'Connor, cries with Nathaniel Hawthorne, and sees like CS Lewis.


Hey Suzanne.




Thanks.

firefly.

bunks.

Life as a Spudent is back in full swing. The grass is green and the leaves are starting to turn.

We'll meet the 38 girls we'll be living with tonight at the super exciting mandatory floor meeting. Last year I wasn't prepared for the "hey, tell us something about yourself" question that was thrown at us in the first 2 1/2 minutes of sitting in the room full of beautiful strangers. Cassie pulled it together in time to avoid entering the ultra-awkward zone before the hot spot made it's way to our part of the room. Her answer sounded something like, "Uhhhhh Iiii I really like toast. A lot."
Genius. Not too personal and certainly not typical.

And we miss that girl we called Tig. A whole lot.

So here we are in the room we named the treehouse. Twinkle lights, blankets scattered, and Vogue pages and photographs covering every piece of white. We love our house.

Reunions are the best. Ever.
So much yelling. So many hugs.

In other news, I sleep on a top bunk nowadays. The lack of a child-please-don't-fall-of-the-bed bar was at first completely terrifying. But, thank the heavens, my sleeping body stayed exactly where it needed to be.

So good to be here.
So many photographs to share.
...I just need to find outlets for all of my technology that is right now lacking its share of electricity.

More to come.
I could probably write a book about first day of classes. Or an entire book about the interesting pronunciation variations that come with professors reading my name off of that sheet of paper for the very first time.