Life plan ( Read more... )

I miss Daddy so much. I love wesleyan but I can't wait to be HOME and ramble around atlanta with my girls. and then chill in Durham with my family family apodidae. And I miss my Mama. And last night I told Alexis that I kind of wanted to be an old maid and take care of my mother and tend my garden and my cats.

You know you're at Wesleyan when...

in notes for a paper, you find yourself writing "make whitey own up to hir shit!"

It's doing this thing outside where it's kind of rainy but also really cold, so it really stings when this half frozen not snow shit hits your face. This morning my alarm doesn't go off, but I wake up 10 minutes before I'm supposed to be in class. I fly out of my room and into the stingy shit, and two minutes away from my classroom I run into a ( Read more... )

I had an amazing, amazing visit with Grace today. I sometimes think that the truest ones are the ones in which you grow together, and remain close through and because of growth. Being with Grace reminded me of that, because while some things are the same, we both feel older to me. Going so far away from everyone and everything we have loved for so ( Read more... )

Dilemma:
I want cookies.
I already left MoCon and am in my room.
I ate two cookies at mocon.
It's too cold to go weshop/I don't want a whole bag/box of cookies.

WHAT TO DO????

also i turned down an opportunity to go home today. I think this is a good sign.

to imitate Sarah ( Read more... )

Sometimes I wonder what the fuck I'm doing so far away from home.

going back to school, to school, to school. I love my family. I love running down the same old streets to the perfect music. I love old, comfortable places. I love nourishing my body. I love knowing the true meaning of rest. I love going forward with loss and joy and hopes to heal.

Well the first days are the hardest days. I'm reeling a little bit from the past two years, still. It's strange how a new loss makes the earlier ones hit home all the closer. All the books and photos and little pieces of my grandmother's house are becoming a piece of ours, which is kind if a neat part of death. we have all the concrete little ( Read more... )