I have been technically up since 4am this morning. I awoke that early intentionally, to register for classes, but more specifically to ensure that I was able to be placed in the class with only fifteen seats that I need to complete in order to graduate this June.
I am happy to announce that the registration process went off without a hitch. I am even happier to announce that I have thus finished the registration process for my final quarter as an undergraduate. Ever. Yes, EVER!
What I am not happy to announce is the fact that I could not return to my euphoric nyquil induced sleep state after rising at 4am, but instead had to drag my not asleep self out of bed at 6am, and drive home (I had to use the ‘rent’s computer to register, as mine was less than functional this morning), whereupon during my last block of driving some very nice person had set a dark green beer bottle in the middle of the street, where people driving in the dark could very easily NOT SEE IT, until of course they were directly upon it and crushing it with their left front tire. Yeah, awesome.
But the fact that I still have a cold, and I didn’t get enough sleep last night, and my nose is so red and raw from blowing it every eight seconds that I am consistently aware of it painfully screaming at me “No more tissues, lady!,” and the fact that I still have a very long day ahead of me — none of this seems so miserable combined with the glorious fact that this morning I also found my long lost Journey, Greatest Hits cd, abandoned and left for dead in my glove-box. Finding that cd and promptly restoring it to the cd player, where it rightfully belongs, and where it will stay for some considerable time, has been my favorite part about this day.
Sing it with me now: Don’t Stop. Believing. Hold on to that fee-ee-ee-ling.
I posted a picture of him for a silly Instagram-related game and found him waiting for me in my dreams, something which occurs so rarely it still explodes solidly-constructed dams inside me each time I see his face, mustached and smiling at mine just the way he always did, just the way I always remember him. As usual he didn’t say much, not anything I could hear or remember, but he was there and I knew it, and when I → Read more...
I have words washed out to sea. Words ushered quietly from my lips to my fingertips, waiting patiently for the right tide, for the moon to bring my stories alive.
I have words being reviewed, words accepted and words rejected, and I’m clinging to my favorite lines, fighting for them, and it feels strange and new and exhilaratingly infuriating, this tug-of-war of wills and how the slightest bit of caving can make me feel like I’m flirting with abandoning the sanctity → Read more...
[Alternately titled: Story, The Second: The Girl Who Moved To Washington State]
It began simply. A direct message on Twitter first, followed by texts; those texts, in turn, begat plans. With those plans came anxiety and apprehension – I didn’t know you, not your face or your voice or anything else, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to – but also something exciting, a strange and unexpected hope hovering quietly on the horizon. And then we met, conversed and laughed → Read more...
Stories I said I had. Tangential stories and life-changing ones.
Until today I haven’t known where, exactly, to begin. And so quiet this space has mostly been because some beginnings are tricky. Sometimes it’s quite impossible to denote where something ended and something else entirely began.
I’m not going to be able to tell you everything, but then the best stories never really do, do they?
(That’s not a trick question. I promise they don’t.)
(Unless the story was penned by Henry James, in → Read more...