right now.


This is the era of my life of coffee shops and dehydration. Nonprofessional clothing and flexible hours. Confusing Tuesday mornings for Saturday afternoons. Crying in the car for the realities I can’t face anywhere else. Sleep deprivation so acute I can't remember my mailbox number. Laughing until it hurts because we're high on the sweetness of college breaks. Roadtrips and chickfila and the crazy freedom of not having a job. Checking in every few days and then doing whatever makes sense, whenever I want. Playing at being domestic and then forgetting the stacks of dishes, consequences from the dinner party the night before. Buying Groupons and wearing perfume and feeling like a woman with a very small checking account. Listening to one song for hours on repeat just so I can write this paper and because it expresses my soul so accurately. Seeing the day change from today to tomorrow almost every night and hoping to be awake for only one more hour. NPR, paying bills, lipstick, and groceries all make me feel old and give me an adrenaline rush because I'm not. only twenty-two. When I get old, I don't want to lose my love for music, color, coffee, books, and space. I don't want to lose what I've learned from living here.

And look, there we are.



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

writing at JCup

I'm at Joshua Cup, the hipster-est place in Macon GA, a little coffee shop downtown with ceilings painted black and scratched wood floors. I'm drinking coffee black with cinnamon and I'm starting in on writing my SIP, a personal essay. But I don't really fit in. Two ladies in professional dress eat their organic lunches with big black sunglasses on their heads while three men use their laptops. The first is wearing a long grey robe of sorts with black dress shoes. Jewish maybe? I don't know, he's typing away on a word document. The other two look slightly disheveled. One with long, frizzy red hair and a black painter's cap has huge black headphones engulfing his ears; he's bent over his work on an ipad, shoulders kinked in. The other is wearing the gym clothes of a couch potato, baggy tshirt, baggy grey cotton shorts, and flipflops. They both sport facial hair. I sit somewhat apart with all the glory of a pink laptop, floral notebooks, two bags, and se...
Read more

transitions

My life since the last post has transitioned into a new season. No more camp or summer shorts, beat-up t-shirts, and head scarfs; no more beautiful seven years olds singing pop songs or coloring for hours. School has begun and I've had to move into a period of organization, arranging my stuff, my time, my attitude. I've set up my dorm room, creating places for clothes, books, posters, movies, old stained couches, and ripped chairs. I've had to place my days into slots, dividing it into my classes, meetings, meals, and homework. My thoughts are just beginning to transition back into this focused, detail-oriented perspective, where I have thousands of little things that I have to make happen, but need to intensely devote myself to one task at a time. When this school mode kicks in, it is easy to forget the world, forget time isn't naturally divided by classes, homework, and friends, forget that people breathe and rest, forget that there is more to life than finishing ever...
Read more

Everything into Enough

Failure sucks; here is a little hope that I'm struggling to hold on to, a bit of grace for a very weary sinner. It's from Today's Letters : "Here's to gratitude and how it turns everything into enough." Sometimes you need to stop thinking and just see good.  I am thankful  for sunshine after days of rain,  for rice and beans and corn, cheap and tasty with enough cheese and hot sauce,  for daily bread that breeds forgiveness,  for quiet evenings that offer a little respite from craziness,  for short tempers quickly resolved and selfishness overcome,  for being unseen on days where you feel unseeable,  for remembering that there is always hope, always grace. 
Read more