A Perfect Summer

I’ve always idealized summer. It exists in my mind as a pocket of time untouched by the laws of every-day life: there are no obligations, and endless possibilities. Instead of being paralyzed by boredom, in my summer, you embrace freedom, harness it. You perfect the act of doing nothing. And of course, the absence of school means that your creativity thrives, and somehow you get more done than you thought possible. I’m aware that this is a paradox, but it is an image I cling to, and it’s been grounded so deeply into my childhood that I can’t seem to separate myself from it. And honestly, I don’t want to. Because when I think about summer, I don’t just think about my perfect summer. There is magic in real summers, too. I’ve seen it first hand. I’ve seen it in the in the stretching of the days, the luxuriously long sunsets, where that impossible green foliage that blankets every tree is momentarily dipped in gold. Later it subsides to a deep blue, and the air is a color like something out of a Monet painting.  I find it in the tiny sandstorm created by the cream as I pour it into a tall glass of iced coffee. It is the morning walks I take with mother and my dog, down a curbless street, filled with birdsong. Occasionally, there are swimming pools. Sometimes, there are long drives in cars under an endless sky. There is rain, too. The kind of summer thunderstorm I haven’t experienced in years. It is a wild rain, punctuated by rumbles that shake the windows of our house, and my mother stands on the front porch, transfixed. 

This is the summer I grew up with. Over the years, it’s changed slightly. It’s been invaded by summer reading books for school, not all of which were bad, and summer assignments which always were. When I learned to drive there was always a nagging sense that I had to go somewhere. Why stay at home when you have a whole city to explore? Still, I often guiltily chose to sit in the backyard and read a book instead. Maybe I idealize summer too much, but when I hear people say that summer is “boring,” I feel indignant. You say the first few weeks weeks are fun. There’s the novelty of it, I guess. But after that, as June yawns into July it’s just another summer, and you don’t know what to do with yourself. I have no patience for this attitude. If you are scared of boredom, your summer will be over before it began. It’s how you use boredom, how you acknowledge it but don’t let it defeat you. Summers are a gift. They are something to be cherished, held in your hands like the blueberries you picked by the bucket-full. Summers are a time capsule to a time when you didn’t need the internet to distract you, when the outdoors was a place you still frequented. And yes, I know it’s hot. I live in a place where humidity makes you feel like you are swimming rather than walking, and mosquitoes gather in prehistoric swarms. In the afternoon the heat presses against windows, and the world is a bug trapped in amber.  

If there is a message here, it is this: Find your perfect summer. Take time to marvel at a rainbow in the arc of a sprinkler, and spend an afternoon in shade that is just cool enough to be bearable. Jump into lakes. Swing from tire swings. If anything, summer reminds us that one moment can feel like an eternity. Inhabit that eternity. Make a home there, and the summer is yours.

The Great Outdoors

 I find myself missing nature lately. I miss the intense quiet that comes along with walking through the woods, the way some sounds are muffled and some, especially human ones, are amplified. It reminds me of how clumsy we really are compared to most animal species, like we can't go anywhere without causing a ruckus. As cliche as it sounds, I miss the sound of birdsong and the roar of rushing water and the rustle of wind through thousands of leaves high above my head. It's not just that, though. It's the way the rest of the world falls away so easily, so quickly, as if cars and fast food chains and skyscrapers never even existed. Nature gives us the power to step away from the complexity of everyday life and simply be alone with ourselves.

From a walk I took while visiting Minnesota over Spring Break

For a few days, it seemed like spring had come to Iowa. Temperatures crept up to the mid 40s. The sun graced us with its presence. I felt the same rush of giddy excitement that always accompanies the approaching of summer. But something was missing. I didn't realize until I moved to Cedar Rapids how much nature a city like my hometown of Houston contains. There are countless nature centers, parks, and even the occasional wild space that remains untouched by development. Plus, I'm pretty sure there are simply more trees in Houston, those incredibly beautiful oaks suspended in frozen reverie, limbs bowing until they almost touch the ground. I'm not saying that Cedar Rapids is lacking in natural beauty. There's the lake where we raced dragon boats during freshman orientation, and the tree outside my dorm room window that I watched change through the seasons. There's even a grassy park by New Bo Market complete with a meditation circle and a rock sculpture. But I'm beginning to realize that spending too much time away from even the tamest of forests is starting to wear on me. I can only take so much of the manicured lawn (or in the winter, barren tundra) that is the quad. Instead, I find myself daydreaming about camping with my dad, how everything tasted better when it was cooked outdoors.

And yet, while reminiscing about my favorite spots, I ran into several things that bothered me. I find it sad that most wild places, even those in the midst of cities, are inaccessible without a car. I find it strange that in Memorial Park, the majority of the patrons use the running paths along the perimeter. On one side of the path is a tangled mass of branches, on the other a busy thoroughfare. Why drive somewhere to be close to nature, but not to immerse yourself in it?

Living in the city, it can be so easy to forget that there are any wild spaces left. We go about our daily lives, in tune with the rhythms of ticking clocks and rush hour traffic, and we don't realize that anything's missing. I didn't even realize how far I'd fallen into this trap until I listened to the following radio programs in short succession. They are informative, imaginative, and inspirational, and they made me re-imagine the way we interact with the natural world:

1. "Wild Ones Live" - 99% Invisible: This episode of one of my favorite podcasts is actually a live recording of a band/author duo that explores the complex intersections between animals and humans.

2. "The Last Quiet Places: Silence and the Presence of Everything"- On Being: Mind-altering interview with Gordon Hempton, "who defines silence not as an absence of sound but an absence of noise."

 I suppose I'll leave you with a quote from an One Square Inch of Silence by Gordon Hempton:

"Silence is not the absence of something but the presence of everything. It lives here, profoundly, at One Square Inch in the Hoh Rain Forest. It is the presence of time, undisturbed. It can be felt within the chest. Silence nurtures our nature, our human nature, and lets us know who we are. Left with a more receptive mind and a more attuned ear, we become better listeners not only to nature but to each other. Silence can be carried like embers from a fire. Silence can be found, and silence can find you. Silence can be lost and also recovered. But silence cannot be imagined, although most people think so. To experience the soul-swelling wonder of silence, you must hear it." [Source]

I hope this long winded assessment of my relationship with nature makes you think a little more deeply about your own. It could be time to consider how long it's been since you took a walk in the woods.

Go-To Inspiration

This blog post is coming to you from my messy brain in my messy dorm room in the midst of my messy life. I've been feeling a little overwhelmed lately. I have so many projects I want to work on. There's school of course, but I'm also trying to step up the discipline in my writing routine. I'm working several work-study jobs, writing for two different blogs (this one and my college's English department), and beginning the search for a summer job in my hometown. Plus, there's a super secret project I can't stop thinking about, and I don't know if it's really worth the time to undertake it or if this is just the honeymoon period. Maybe the excitement will wear off and I'll start hating it, and hating myself for not committing to it, and end up more stressed than when I started.

All of this was causing some creative burn-out, until I stumbled upon this blog post from The Secret Life of Writers. The question it asks is simple: What images will always make you want to write? I've always loved the idea that inspiration is everywhere, but I assumed it was something you had to wait for, that you'd never see it coming. I guess I'd picked up on patterns in the past, but I never saw them as something reliable to turn to when I was at a loss for ideas. Following in the same vein of Heather's post, I thought I'd share a few images that continually make me want to open up a word document and pour my heart out:

1) These paintings by Cy Twombly that hang in The Menil Collection in my hometown:

2) Medieval Tapestries

3) Open windows with white curtains

Photo by Sarah Jane on Flickr

4) Lone canoers on a lake 

5) Road Trips

6) Obscure vintage photography

7) Abandoned houses

I really enjoyed compiling this list, and I hope you find some of these things inspiring as well! Lightning strikes of inspiration are great, but remember, there are always things in your life that inspire you simply because you are drawn to them over and over again. Use these things to your advantage!

Lastly, I would just like say thanks to Heather Marie for her original post. While I too am inspired by things like castles and statues in cemeteries, I had never really dwelled on the mystical qualities of the lighthouse.

Let me know what things inspire you in the comments, and as always, thanks for reading!

Reading Q&A

You probably already knew this about me, but I'm an avid reader. I've been watching a lot of book-tubers recently (People on Youtube who talk exclusively about books and reading. Yes, they're out there!) and many of them have made videos talking about their reading habits, pet peeves, memories, etc. For this post, I compiled a list of twenty questions about books and reading. Most of this stuff isn't new, but I wanted to answer it anyway. I will probably be doing another one of these devoted to writing in the future.

Stats

How many books do you read each month?
This varies a great deal depending on the month. During school, I would say my average is about two, and during the holidays it's probably closer to three or four. Last month I read 5(!) books, which is pretty impressive for me.

What are your reading goals for 2014?
On my Goodreads account my goal is 40 books in 2014. I chose it because it seemed more doable than 50 and more challenging than 30. Really, if I make it to 20 books there year I'll be happy, since last year I only read 16.

Of the books that are on your shelves right now, how many of them are YA? Adult? Non-fiction? Fantasy? Sci-Fi? Classics? Basically what's the genre breakdown like?
Total Number of Books: 45 (Note: These are my dorm room bookshelves, so they're only a small portion of my home library.)
Textbooks/Required Reading: 7
On loan from the library: 5
Classics: 8
Non-Fiction: 2
Contemporary: 9
Fantasy: 6
Poetry: 1
Short Stories: 2
Writing Books: 3
Letter Collections: 1
Historical Fiction: 1

Reading Habits/Preferences

What kind of books do you like to read?
I will read just about anything. My christmas wish list consisted of two non-fiction books, three fantasy (including one about superheroes), one historical fiction, one adult contemporary, and three YA novels.

As for what I look for in a book, I love lyrical prose, compelling, flawed characters, and plots that keep me guessing. A little bit of adventure is always a nice touch.

Do you write in your books? Dog-ear pages? Crack spines? 
To be honest I've always loved the idea of writing all over my books. My english teachers would always expound on the importance of annotating, but I could never do it. Not because I disliked marking in my books (although I think I feel somewhat differently now), but because I would get so caught up in the story that stopping to write down my thoughts felt like I was interrupting something. Plus, if I'd done that then my little freshman year thoughts would be written all over my copy of Slaughter-House Five, and I'm not sure I ever want to revisit them. I like the idea of marking lines that I like, though, and collecting my favorite quotes, so maybe I'll give it a try with some post-it notes.

I am still guilty of dog-earing pages occasionally, but I'm much more partial to book marks now, especially the magnetic ones that clip around the page. And as for cracking spines, this really doesn't bother me, but I'm not one of those people who does it deliberately, like "breaking in" a book.

How do you feel about lending out your books?
If we have talked about books before and I know you will take care of them, I have no problem lending books to people. I'm even not that picky about when I get them back, just so long as I do get them back.

How do you feel about books with illustrations, photographs, or other visual aids?
If they are done well, and really enhance the story, I love them!

What are your thoughts on book to movie adaptations?
I don't get too hung up on the accuracy of the plot in book-to-movie adaptations, as long as the film captures the feel of the book. The movie version of Chocolat is a perfect example. They change a few plot points but the atmosphere is similar, and there are the same magical undertones running throughout. If they start adding characters, though, I get annoyed.

What is one genre you wish you read more of?
Middle-grade. I feel like there are so many great books for kids out there, and I'm missing out because I've "grown out" of them.

Biggest bookish pet peeve?

This new trend in paperbacks where they make the cover shorter than the rest of the book. It just makes it look cheap and gimmicky and it really gets on my nerves! GAH!










Relationship to Reading

What is the first book you remember reading by yourself?
The first book I remember reading by myself was a beautiful picture book version of The Twelve Dancing Princesses. My mom told me she would only buy it for me if I promised to read it by myself. That night I sat at the dining room table and read the whole thing aloud. It was slow-going, but I did it!

Describe your fondest memory of reading:
I have so many! Here are a few:
- In the 5th grade, my friend and I stumbled across The Goose Girl by Shannon Hale in our elementary school's library. We were enamored with the cover and the synopsis, and we discussed which of us would read it first (she won). The Goose Girl would become our favorite book, and it would be one of the building blocks of our friendship. We're both in college now and I still count her as one of my best friends in the whole world. Sometimes I wonder if things would be the same if we hadn't picked up that book.
-On sleepovers, another friend and I would take turns reading pages to each other from our respective books. I kind of wish we still did that.
-My parents read to me almost every night when I was younger, but one of my fondest memories is of my father reading To Kill a Mockingbird aloud. I was too young to fully understand it at the time, but when I finally read it for school I was glad I'd been introduced to it so early. It will always have a special place in my heart for that reason.

Specifics

What is one book you wish everyone knew about?

The Many Deaths of the Firefly Brothers by Thomas Mullen. This book is about gangsters in the 1930's who find out they can't die. The supernatural element is countered by an incredibly detailed setting, and I feel like this book really captures the essence of the Great Depression. It's a richly told story with really fantastic characters, and it's one of my go-to recommendations. Read it. You won't be sorry.





What is your favorite Harry Potter book?

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. It's been a very long time since I read this series, but I think I can safely say this one's my favorite. A lot of people dislike it because of how angsty Harry is, and I see where they're coming from, but I just can't get over all the great characters in this book! Umbridge is positively loathsome, and then there's the members of the Order and of Dumbledore's Army, and it all culminates in the awesome conclusion in the Ministry of Magic. Yep, definitely my favorite.




What is your favorite book you had to read for school?

The Hour of the Star by Clarice Lispector. I read this last semester for my Literature: The City class, and fell in love with it. It is told from the POV of a writer who is telling the story of a girl living in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro, and it becomes not only a portrait of the slums but an examination of writing itself. This book was unlike anything I've ever read before, and it really made me think differently about what fiction can do.





If you had to recommend a book to a self-proclaimed "non-reader," what would it be?

Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan. This books has everything. Antique books. Technology. Young geniuses and ancient librarians. Secret societies. It spans from San Francisco to New York City to Google Headquarters. It's funny and profound and it has some really interesting things to say about the value of old things and the possibilities of new technology. Overall a thoroughly enjoyable read that I would recommend to anyone who is on the fence about reading.





Out in the World

How do you mingle w/ other book lovers, both online and off?
I love attending any kind of book event, large or small. My favorite would probably have to be the Texas Book Festival, which takes place in Austin, Tx each fall. The authors this event attracts, plus the endless book tents (Be still my heart!) make me wish this event lasted for a week and not just a weekend.
Online, I read blogs (Like this one) and watch book channels on Youtube (Like this one).

What is the name of your favorite book store?
This question is a lot harder for me than I originally thought. I love all bookstores. I love Barnes & Noble, where I know I can always find the newest releases. I love Faulkner House Books in New Orleans, which is tiny but steeped in history. I love Book People in Austin, which is big enough to get lost in, and Prairie Lights in Iowa City which feels like a second home. If I had to pick a favorite, though, it would be Brazos Bookstore in my hometown of Houston, Tx. It's small, but has a great selection (including a budding YA section, which makes me happy). It's sophisticated, but not stuffy, and the staff is always friendly. Maybe it's because it's located in my hometown, but this bookstore will always feel like home to me.

What bookstore or library would you most like to visit?

Shakespeare and Company.  It is located in the heart of Paris, steeped in literary history, and actively promotes writers and writing. Who could ask for more?







Describe your ideal home library:
My ideal home library would also be my writing study. Three of the walls are floor to ceiling bookshelves, with rolling ladders, of course. The fourth wall is taken up by a large window, preferably overlooking the Irish countryside. Facing the window is a large wooden desk, upon which sits my computer and other writing supplies. In the back corner is a comfy second-hand arm chair and a floor lamp, where I can read late into the night. A telescope sits by the window, and because I live in the Irish countryside, I can actually use it to look at stars and planets without the glare of light pollution.


Well, there you have it. If you've gotten this far, I applaud you. If you'd like to answer these questions as well, feel free to steal and modify them as you wish. Happy reading!

The Creative Life

What does it mean to live a creative life? Google images would have you believe it looks something like this:

Dalton Trumbo (Source)

Photo by Lynn Bauer (Source)

Wether you see yourself in a bathtub with a typewriter or painting in a field full of flowers, when picturing the creative life there's always a sense of creating something out of nothing, of a life that borders on chaos but never leaves the realm of possibility. Maybe this is why we love hearing about "process" and "routine." We're trying to explain the unexplainable.

On the surface level, the life of an intellectual like Darwin looks pretty darn perfect. His routine included working through the morning, long walks in the afternoon, and reading in the evening, all in a secluded, stately home in English countryside. What this routine doesn't show is the crippling doubt and stress induced by his work, and the inner turmoil that ruled his life, from his compulsive letter writing habits ("Darwin made a point of replying to every letter he received, even those from obvious fools or cranks. If he failed to reply to a single letter, it weighed on his conscience and could even keep him up at night." Source) to the rift his scientific discoveries created between him and his wife. What I'm getting at here is that the creative life isn't all painting in fields of wild flowers.

This is not meant to discourage those looking to go into a career in the arts. It is however meant to dispel the idea we have of creative individuals as enlightened beings who have somehow transcended the plight of every day living. Even its opposite, the "tortured artist" trope, is an idealization in its own right. We are just like you. We have bad days, and we have good ones. They can be exciting and productive, but they can just as easily be mind-numbingly boring.

I really dislike the way we split ourselves into categories: left-brainded vs right-brained. Analytical vs. Creative. Conventional vs. Unconventional. As if accountants can't think creatively and artists can't be analytical. And worse, that the route we choose in life can be labeled as "lucrative" or not, that we are suddenly seen as outsiders if the path we choose doesn't point towards clear-cut success.

While writing this article I stumbled across a quote by John O'Donohue that reads:

"The call to the creative life is a call to dignity, to a life of vulnerability and adventure..."

While I appreciate the sentiment, I would argue that it's not the just the creative life that should contain these things, but life in general. Here's to living a life of vulnerability and adventure, whether you are working a 9-5 job or making things up in a cabin in the woods.

Afterthoughts:

Check out this fantastic info-graphic on the creative life. If you're lucky, I would hope your life includes lots of these things, even if you're not living the creative ideal.

I've been really interested in Darwin lately, can you tell? Read more about his daily routine here, and don't miss out on this awesome graphic novel biography.

If you haven't noticed, I link to Brain Pickings a lot. It is a compendium of knowledge I never would have discovered otherwise, and I highly recommend you go subscribe to their newsletter. Like, right now.

Quote of the Day: The Secret Life of Walter Mitty

Over winter break I got a chance to see the movie The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Besides confirming my dream of one day traveling to Iceland, it was also a beautiful movie to watch, and it was superbly acted by all those involved. This film is full of memorable quotes, from the funny ("You know who looks good in a beard? Dumbledore. Not you.") to the profound ("Beautiful things don't ask for attention."), and of course it's hard to overlook the "motto" of the film (And of Life Magazine): "To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel. That is the meaning of life."But the quote that struck me the most was something said in a conversation between Walter Mitty and the photographer Sean O'Connell.

They are on a mountaintop, watching a snow leopard that Sean is trying to photograph.

Walter Mitty: Are you going to take it?
Sean O'Connell: Sometimes I don't. If I like a moment, for me, personally, I don't like to have the distraction of the camera. I just want to stay in it.
Walter Mitty: Stay in it?
Sean O'Connell: Yeah. Right there. Right here.

Those few lines of dialogue hit me right in the stomach. There, sitting in the dark movie theatre, I thought of my phone nestled in my purse. I hadn't turned it off; it was still on vibrate. I could feel every e-mail, every text message I received. The same was probably true for everyone in the theatre.

I come from a family of photographers. We record everything, from Christmas and birthdays to visits to our favorite coffee shop. We once spent a good chunk of a family dinner showing my Uncle how to use Instagram. Don't get me wrong. I love taking pictures. I love documenting little moments, enhancing them with filters, and the thrill of sending them out into the world. I love film photography, too. The smell of chemicals, the feel of developer on your fingers. I love that the stakes are higher, and that it forces you to be thoughtful at every stage in the process. As a writer, I am a recordist by nature. Every moment is trapped, filtered, and congealed on the page, but words still pale in comparison to the actual experience.

That little moment in Walter Mitty made me reevaluate the way I was living my life. It reminded me that not all moments have to be recorded in order for them to be meaningful. The most powerful memories can only happen when you are fully present. Sure, I'm glad I have so many instagram photos, but there's a certain kind of comfort that comes with knowing I wasn't distracted during the experiences that meant the most to me. Things like standing on the stage at Carnegie hall, or having Thanksgiving dinner in Ireland with my family in the 7th grade. Things like that don't need to be validated by a photograph or even a poem or a short story. They just are.

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty is full of messages like this one. It's a movie about going into the unknown and facing your fears. It's about living life to the fullest and not letting yourself fall into the trap of dreaming but never doing. In a world where everything is vying for our attention, I think we could all learn to be a little bit more choosy about what we let ourselves get distracted by, and inevitably, what we're missing.

Afterthoughts: I don't want anyone to think that after seeing this film I suddenly gave up instagram (or facebook or youtube or one of myriad other distractions). Sean O'Connell's words (or, really, his character's words) simply inspired me to think (and write) about this subject. My goal is to find a balance between capturing moments and experiencing them.

I hope you found this post interesting, and if you have thoughts on Walter Mitty, photography, or anything discussed above, I'd love to hear about it in the comments. This post is part of a sporadic series that I started a while back, where I take a closer look at the quotes that resonate with me. You can read the first of this series, here. As always, thanks for reading!

A Day in the Life of a College Student (AKA: MY 100TH POST!!!)

This post was inspired by Maggie Stiefvator's post on A Day in the Life of an Author. You should go read it, because it's very funny and entertaining.  :)

December 6, 2013. It is the Friday before finals week. It is also 4 degrees outside.

My day begins at 7:00am when I have pry myself out of bed, and climb, half delirious, down from the top bunk because my phone decided to take leap of faith and fall onto the floor, and the alarm has been ringing for a good five minutes. (Sorry, roomie...) After crawling around in the half-dark and silencing it, I immediately get back into bed and sleep until 8:30.

At this point my roommate is already up, dressed, and gone to breakfast, so I figure it's time for me to do the same. The showers this morning are luke-warm, which is very disappointing. Back in my room, I put on as many layers as I can, open my Coe e-mail, and do a five-minute Facebook check. Evidently it's snowing in Oklahoma and even a couple places in Texas. Here everything is impossibly blue skies and crisp, nose-numbing wind. I close Facebook, and remind myself that the weather reports predict snow on Sunday, which will also be a cozy 25 degrees! I have tea and trail mix for breakfast because I'm a real college kid.

At 10:50 am I bundle up some more in a coat, hat, and gloves and head to my first class, a freshman year seminar on the Harlem Renaissance. I practice the speech I have to make about the blues singer Bessie Smith quietly as I walk, and my breath makes clouds in front of my face. FYS moves quickly, I don't completely mess up my presentation, and we even get out a couple of minutes early. I make it to the caf before the lunch rush, have grilled chicken, french fries, and salad, and sit down with some friends from FYS. We chat about Jimmy Fallon, reality TV, and cafeteria pizza. The best part about this particular lunch is that they have a sugar cookie decorating station set up near the door, complete with cookies in holiday themed shapes. I eat star and stocking shaped cookies with green and pink frosting and of course, sprinkles.

After lunch I walk to the mailroom and am surprised to find out I have a package waiting for me! It's from Davidson, North Carolina which is where my aunt lives. As if sugar cookies in a the caf weren't good enough, this definitely becomes the best part of my day. I hug the package to my chest as I brave the freezing walk (now it's up to 16 degrees!) back to my dorm where (as is the custom whenever I get a package) I drop everything and immediately spend the next ten minutes trying to get it open. Luckily the gift inside makes up for any of the previous struggle. It turns out to be a big, warm, well-worn sweatshirt that belonged to my Uncle Stephen before he passed away in October. With it is an impossibly kind note from my Aunt, telling me he would want me to have it. For a while I just sit there, sweatshirt heavy in my lap, feeling so full of love and gratitude that I can't really move.  It's funny how even the simplest acts of kindness can catch you completely off guard, and to know that a relative hundreds of miles away took time out of her day to send me something that belonged to my uncle makes me feel so incredibly lucky. Who knows how long I sit there, but after a while I get up and try on the sweatshirt. It's a perfect fit.

My literature class was canceled today, so at 2 pm I head towards Film Music. Since it's our second-to-last day of class, a plate of chocolate chip cookies and other sweets greets us at the door. I watch as my peers give presentations on a composer of their choice (I presented yesterday), and as usual we talk about Disney movies, especially The Hunchback of Notre Dame, which I realize is a much more nuanced film than I originally thought. After class I spend some time writing this blog post and grab a few sheets of stationary before heading out for my shift in the Writing Center at 4.

I find the Writing Center dressed in christmas lights, and the front desk is graced by this lovely calendar, which reminds me just how close we are to Winter Break.

I spend the first half of my shift writing a thank-you note to my Aunt Elizabeth, and drawing a blueprint of my new house for a friend. Then I finally settle down to work on revising the Literature paper that is due Monday. When I finally resurface from the world that is Clarice Lispector's The Hour of the Star, and the dark, messy labyrinth that is my paper, it is 4:56 pm and already dark outside. Oh, winter. I don't think I'll ever get used to you.

I eat a dinner in the caf with Katie and Ella and then head over to the new study rooms in the science building to work on a radio show project for FYS. We get some work done and then head over to Ella's room to watch True Blood. We also go on a failed mission to get smoothies. At 12:30 am I head back to my dorm room, fall into bed, and sleep really, really well. And that's a day in the life of a college student.

Well, if you've made it this far, I commend you! As much as I hate to make this post any longer than it already is, I just want to take few minutes to acknowledge that this is officially my 100TH BLOG POST!!!! YAY!!! :D

I started this blog at the end of my sophomore year of high school. I've grown so much since then, in ways I probably haven't even realized yet. This blog has gone through many stages. It has suffered neglect, overactivity, and its fair share of half-formed ideas and unplanned, unguided tangents. But one thing it has always been is mine. It is a place for me to share my thoughts and connect with other people with similar dreams. It is driven by my love of the written word and my attempts to make sense of life's many intricacies. Blogging is something I think I will always come back to, even if I disappear for long stretches at a time. So, before I completely lose however many of you are still with me, here's to another 100 posts: may they thoughtful, creative, and always interesting.