i know i'm always writing so you think i'm good with words.

It's one of those nights. Or maybe one of those days. Where the world seems too big and not in a good way. And I look around my room, flip through Catcher in the Rye for a few minutes. Scroll down Google Reader and see all the writers I'm surrounded by. All the kids my age or younger. All the words they've written. Everything I'll never be able to write. All I have are shaky words stacked up against all the poetry ever written and my words don't stand a chance.

There's a Jaymay song- I don't even remember the name of the song, but whenever I'm doing anything that doesn't require a lot of thought, even just standing at the kitchen counter making coffee, the lyrics will repeat in my head. "I know I'm always writing so you think I'm good with words but I can hardly express how I feel." I've listened to those lyrics hundreds of times and they never become less true.

Sometimes I get too used to people telling me I'm a good writer. They just become words, words that are too easy to shrug off.

Tonight is not one of those times. Tonight, it's becoming too easy to think that I'll never be able to write what I want to write. I feel like the only things that I can write are just other people's thoughts, repeated in my clumsy way.

This post isn't me asking you to tell me I'm wrong. (I understand that this feeling will go away by the morning.) This is just me, trying to be honest. Trying to be vulnerable in a way I'm not used to.

bennett family photos.

I have a really cute family. I live in a really pretty place.

After I finished taking photos of the family, Anna and I took a few dozen pictures of the two of us using my 50mm prime lens. They all turned out blurry- manual focus and self timer don't go together very well. Here are a few of the outtakes though...my favorites are our failed attempts at April Ludgating. (I love April Ludgate.)

Have a happy Tuesday.

may twenty-third.

I hope you move on quickly and I hope you forget about all the moments we had together because sometimes remembering hurts more than forgetting. I hope you meet a gorgeous girl who isn't a wanderer at heart, and I hope she likes the same music as you and I hope that she never forgets how lucky she is. I hope you realize it's okay for you to be angry at God, and I hope you understand that not everything you've been taught is true. I hope you go on at least one big, rebellious adventure. I hope you find a friend who you feel comfortable being sad around. I hope you take off in the middle of the night on a road trip, or eat nothing but ice cream for a week just because you can. I hope you have lots of laughter and the good kind of nostalgia. I hope you visit all the places you've wanted to go and I hope that someday you swim in that pool in Belgium and I hope you finally escape this town. I hope you do something important and I hope you're passionate about life and I hope you do something honest that scares you and I hope that no matter what happens, you're happy.

these words are six months old and still make sense to me. 

this is what i'm thankful for.

It’s Friday night and we’re all tired and I’m jittery from too much caffeine and I am thankful. 

I think thankfulness should be year round. In the months before I went to Jordan when I was fifteen, I would write down five or six things that I was thankful for. It was an every day sort of thing. I miss that. I miss the way it forced me to look at everything, the way it forced me to be thankful.

And even though I think thankfulness shouldn’t just be focused on for a Thursday in November, there’s something beautiful about the flood of blog posts and Facebook statuses, all proclaiming thankfulness. I love the thought of so many individuals sitting down and actively thinking about what they’re thankful for. So here are a few of the things that are standing out to me, the things that I’m intensely thankful for. 

I’m thankful that for the past five and a half years, I’ve lived in the town where my dad grew up. It's taught me what home is, and I love that rush of contentment I feel now when I go back to visit. I’m thankful that now, I live in the town where my mom grew up. There’s something strange and wonderful about putting together the pieces from the stories she’s told dozens of times, and consolidating the stories with real places. And I’m thankful that my parents, who both grew up in tiny little towns, grew up to be the kind of people who travel the world, and I’m thankful that they instilled that love of travel in me eleven years ago. 

I’m thankful for these mountains. See, when I moved to Indiana, there were nights when I would fall asleep listening to John Denver’s Rocky Mountain High and crying... “And the Colorado rocky mountain high, I’ve seen it raining fire from the sky,” and I would look outside my window and see flat cornfields stretching out to the horizon and more than anything, I would miss the mountains. Now I’m back in the mountains. I don’t miss the cornfields themselves, but I miss everything they represent about home. And at the same time- I am so grateful for these mountains. I’m thankful for the sunset sinking behind them every night, the way they gradually change colors as I drive up into them, the way it smells like sunshine on pine needles. 

I am so incredibly thankful for Joseph. (I’m thankful for my sisters too, but this is different. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and everything.) I’m thankful that Joseph picked up the phone two months ago when I called him, sobbing because the boy who I thought was my best friend had just broken my heart. I’m thankful that he stayed on the phone talking me through it until I finally calmed down, and then, an hour after we hung up, texted me to see how I was doing. I’m thankful for all the memories we have, and always fighting, always getting so angry that I would end up in tears, all the wrestling on the couch, him tickling me until I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe. He was my very first best friend, and I love him more than I could ever say. 

I’m thankful for Steve Chbosky. Thankful that he wrote a book, made a movie, took the time to talk to me. I’m thankful for when he told me, “write, girl, write,” and my sister & I couldn’t stop laughing about it.

I’m thankful for music. I’m thankful for the way it gets all tangled up in memories. I’m thankful for the music that feels true and honest. (I’m thankful for the people who tell me new music to listen to, and I love the way that those songs are always connected to them from that point on.) 

I’m thankful for the kind of friends I have- the ones who are just as much my friends now as before I left, and that when I visit, nothing has changed. These are the people who laugh with me until our sides and stomachs ache. These are the friends who go with me to Starbucks three times a day, who make me eat a granola bar when the caffeine high has me tapping my fingers on the table and shifting around in my seat. These are the people who will drive around for an hour at night, talking about nothing and everything and listening to One Direction and driving and driving until we realize we’ve looped around the same neighborhood five times. I’m thankful for impromptu movie Sunday and playing True American (Mountain Dew style) until we all threw up, and the times we've jokes about that night. I’m thankful for the five years of history we have, all the church retreats and Wednesday nights spent at youth group, all the sleepovers, all the hours spent together. I’m so overwhelming thankful for these friends.  

I’m thankful that my parents don’t make me eat mashed potatoes anymore. And that pie is acceptable as a meal for the entire weekend after Thanksgiving. 

I’m thankful that Seattle is a place that exists. And that Markus Zusak writes books. And that The Avett Brothers make music. And that I have enough frequent flyer miles for a plane ticket anywhere. 

And most of all, I’m thankful that my entire family is together this weekend. 

fragments.

i. I blatantly stole this from Kendall. I guess that's what true internet friendship is, borrowing and creating and being okay with it.

ii. I haven't blogged in two months. Life has been happening since then. For instance:

iii. I got a haircut. See?

iv. My family moved to Colorado. This weekend, we're permanently moving to the town where my mom grew up- in the mountains. I love the mountains more than I could ever say, and yet, I miss the cornfields in Indiana and the fall sunsets where it looked like someone took a match to the sky. 

v. Stephen Chbosky. Do you know him? You might recognize his book. I sent some writing to him a month ago. Two weeks after I sent it, I received an email from his assistant. He called me a few days later. "Oh my god," he said, and I recognized his voice from watching interviews with him and Emma Watson, and the whole moment felt unbelievably surreal, "Oh my god, you are a natural born novelist. I was blown away." And then we talked for 15 minutes, and then he told me to call him whenever, and then he wrote me a letter of recommendation to...

vi. Pratt. Last night, I entered in my Social Security number, updated the essay portion, uploaded my writing portfolio, and submitted my application to Pratt in Brooklyn for creative writing next year. I want to go there more than I've wanted anything in a long time. If I can get in, if I can pay for it, I'll move to New York next August.

vii. My best friend is having brain surgery in a month. I am so scared and so worried. 

viii. "When it's time to go, you need to go because you're going to find something new." -Pat Cleveland. In July, the one year mark came and went, and now I've been in America without leaving for well over a year, and it is so beyond time to leave. I've been researching tickets to Paris for the summer, dreaming of spending the summer writing, trying to convince my parents that I can sleep on the floor of Shakespeare & Co. But Paris and Europe are familiar to me, and I want to go somewhere new, somewhere different. Does anyone want to go on an adventure with me? 

ix. "All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know." Even though I haven't written anything here in awhile, I've been writing all the time, and I'm learning that Mr. Hemingway was right- the important thing is writing, and writing honestly. 

x. "What has God been teaching you lately?" I texted Jillian earlier this morning after someone asked me that same question and I stumbled out something about contentment. And because Jillian is kind and smart and important and maybe most of all, self aware and articulate, she responded with, "That is a very good question. I really have to give it more thought, especially because I forget to listen to God a lot. Mostly though, to live in THIS now, not yesterday's now, or tomorrow's now. And to stop trying to control situations. That I am not responsible for the choices or mistakes of everyone I love. To stop being so cynical and just love people. Love is inefficient and all that." She followed it up with asking me what God has been teaching me, and a text about a boy, and I smiled because that's the kind of friendship we have. And I said, more articulate than the first time I tried to say it, "Me...I think I'm learning how to be content. That even though I don't want to be in Colorado, I can still learn and grow here. And I think I'm learning how to trust and how to be vulnerable, even when it's hard and scary." What has God been teaching you? 

xi. This post came at the request of my brother Joseph and my friend William. It won't be so long between this and the next post, okay? 

ps. here is something I wrote, and here is an interview I did. 

i miss you like crazy.

I haven't seen Ali in 37 days. I miss the way her car smells. That time she started interpretive dancing to fun. while driving. And later that same night, Adele. And when she touched my face and I licked her hand, a new rule was created; "NO LICKING THE DRIVER, Katie."

I miss how it was okay for me to come to her house at 6:30 in the morning and sleep on the basement couch until we left for church. I miss impromptu movie Sundays that turned into impromptu Sunday sleepovers. I miss that time when we were sitting next to each other on the couch (remember this, Ali?), my head on her shoulder, and she started giggling when my eyelashes tickled her arm. I miss her.

I miss summer nights at my grandma's bunkhouse. A tradition three summers long, we would watch movies and swim in the middle of the night. We watched the Justin Bieber movie out there and briefly fell in love. I kept her and Anna up at 5am when I was jetlagging from Jordan, she and Shaina kept us up when they were jetlagging from Central Asia. I miss the laughter.

I miss blaring One Direction in the car. And when we listened to their song Moments the entire way home- six times, on repeat.
I miss how we would say, okay, we're exhausted, it's time to go to sleep, and stay up talking for another two hours. I miss how when she got really sleepy, she would talk on and on until finally I would tell her to keep talking, but I wasn't going to respond anymore. How, "shut up, Ali," was a normal sentence at 3am. I miss the night we both woke up because I started rubbing her neck in my sleep.

I miss her family and their hospitality. I miss knowing that my second family is only half an hour away. I miss that one night, when I got lost on my way home, and both her parents called and texted me to make sure I was okay. 

I miss you, Ali.

I haven't seen him in exactly two weeks. When he turned to hug me before stepping into the car and driving away for Arizona, my face pinched up and I widened my eyes to keep from crying. "Are you going to cry?" he asked. I think he was surprised. Instead of answering, I buried my head in his shoulder (remember those few weeks back in 8th grade when I was taller than you?) and sobbed. He held on tight. And finally when I pulled away, I sob-laughed and told him I smeared mascara on his shoulder. So our goodbye was full of tears, and laughing, and the longest hug.

I miss him. I miss wrestling on the couch, shrieking and laughing until I cried. I miss him saying, "let's go on an adventure!" and then- only going to get gas. I miss the way he would make fun of me, my sneezing and my height. I miss the tickling. Something I never thought I'd say, but I miss the tickling. No one tickles me anymore, expect Abigail, sometimes. I miss bribing him to rub my neck when I'd slept on it wrong. I miss singing the Adventure Time theme song, "Joseph the dog and Katie the human!" and "No! I'm the human, you're the dog."

I miss playing hide-and-seek in Ikea. I miss those long drives to Taylor, and me falling asleep and him letting me even though I know it must have been boring. I miss Kevin. You don't know Kevin, it's a him-and-I joke.

I miss the time Mom and Dad went to Alaska for a week, leaving me and him in charge. That was the time he smacked his head into my head and split my forehead open.

I miss the way he knows more Dutch than I do, and yet never speaks it.

I miss the way his mouth was always slightly open when he lied.

I miss how once he told me, "You're the April Ludgate to my Andy Dwyer- expect before they started dating and got married."I miss how once he said, "If I'm really old, like 80, and neither of us are married, let's get a house together, okay?"

I miss watching endless episodes of The Office together and eating popsicles.

I miss him calling me chica, and how after I told him I don't like being called Katherine, that's all he called me for a week. I don't mind Katherine so much anymore.

I miss waiting tables with him, how if I was busy with too many tables, I could always count on him for refills or delivering food or bussing tables. I miss always competing with him for tips, and how three times in the same night, I told his tables at the register about our competition, which resulted in him getting better tips.

I miss how he would wait for me around corners when I went up to bed at night, and laugh and laugh when I screamed. How he didn't stop even after I accidentally punched him in the face that one time.

I miss arguing with him about whose turn it was to drive, and how the first thing he said when John Green stepped out at the Indy Reads Event was, "All I can think of is duh-duh-duh honey badger!" When he read The Fault in Our Stars, and told me that John Green screwed over every other guy because they can never compare to Augustus; I miss that.

I miss that from now on, I won't be a part of his daily life. When he comes home for Christmas, he'll reference stories and experiences that I only know second-hand. I hate getting a text saying, "I'm going swimming with a girl tomorrow," and not knowing the girl he's talking about.

I miss impromptu movie Sundays at Ali's house with him, all three of us piled on the couch in the basement. He would always start tickling the both of us, and it usually ended with both Ali and I mad because we couldn't watch the movie. And he would sit on the floor and eat blueberries while he pouted until eventually we all calmed down and he came back to the couch.

I miss him. I miss seeing him everyday.

I'll see Ali in a few weeks, and everything will go back to normal. But Joseph- it won't ever be the same again, and that is what I miss most.

her side of the mountain.

These are the mountains where my mom grew up. The place she loves most, more than Turkey, more than the Netherlands, more than England or France or anywhere else in the world. 

It's interesting and strange to see all these places I've heard about in her stories- "There's the tree where I tied up Uncle Jeff," and, "That's my old house, the one right next to the road. It's your grandma's favorite house we've ever lived in." And, because she's the kind of person who shops for property around the world: "This is the house I want to buy. Look how much land it has!" 

The air smells different on the mountain. It's just a few hours away from fall, at least ten degrees cooler than the city, and the kind of air you strain your lungs to inhale. And it's not so much that I love her side of the mountain, more so that I love watching her love it, and I love watch my sisters fall in love with it. 

(35mm film.)

things that say a lot about a person:

"the way in which they treat the waiter/waitress
how they feel about the weather
whether they dog ear pages or highlight in books
fingernails
and hands in general
their preferred creative outlet
how much they dread/enjoy talking on the phone
whether or not they drink coffee
if they ever forget to eat
how honest they are with themselves (and others)
if they correct your grammar
and whether or not they get nervous before haircuts." via.

I'm temporarily living in Colorado at the moment, and up until a month ago I was a waitress. I always treat them well and give a good tip even if they don't deserve it because I understand that sometimes, your boss was yelling at you minutes before or a teenager who you vaguely knew but was loved by people you loved died that morning. It's easier to give grace if you understand how hard it is sometimes just to smile at your table as you bring them another coke.

When it comes to the weather I relentlessly complain. I hate summer, it is too hot and too sunny and sometimes I'll lie awake in bed at night because it feels so hot that I can't breathe. Here in Pueblo, there've been times where I can't touch the steering wheel without burning my hands. I hate winter, it is too cold and too icy and my hands never really warm up. I love spring. I love fall. Rain is good too, and sunshine in moderation is good. Fall and spring are best though, no matter what the weather.

My books are well worn and well loved, neither dog eared or highlighted. If you flip through them though, there are plenty of pages with quotes underlined circled and starred. My best friend Alex says it's interesting to see which parts stuck out to me. (Confession: I pencil-underline in library books.)

Right now my fingernails are painted sparklycinnamon. ("Who needs Peeta when you have Cinna's buns?") I'm 98% sure this is Cinna's color from the Hunger Games line. I swiped it from my little sister and my fingers are glittering while I type this. Usually I bite my nails but they're gradually growing out and sometimes I just look at them proudly.

I have medium sized hands and tiny wrists and I wear one ring all the time on my right hand fourth finger. My wrists are layered with bracelets, some from Jordan, some made by little sisters, some stolen from aforementioned best friend.

When I was a sophomore I took Drawing 1 at 8am every Monday Wednesday Friday. I loved/hated it, as with most classes, but there were moments when I genuinely enjoyed it. Jack Kerouac says though, "Someday I will find the right words, and they will be simple." I think that mostly my preferred creative outlet is searching for the right words, whether in sporadically published blog posts, long and complicated journal entries, or equally long and complicated emails to Jillian.

Talking on the phone, especially to strangers, is an experience that I dread. I'll put it off as long as possible, make up excuses for why a phone call is unnecessary, and generally avoid them. Face to face conversations are far preferable.

I am a cliche in that I love coffee, and less of a cliche in that it's only sometimes. See, there are days when I'll pour out five or six cups into my mug and I drink them slowly and steadily; other days the thought of coffee makes me feel sick.

I like food too much to ever forget to eat. Although otter pops do make a good meal substitute every so often.

If I'm being honest I can say that usually I'm not very honest. Not to the point where I habitually lie, but I don't very often let people know if I'm feeling sad or upset. I don't know. Maybe that's just what I think. You'd have to ask my family to be sure.

If I correct your grammar, it's either subconscious or I'm trying to annoy you. Depends on the person and the time. I was on a coffee date with Liz and Ali the week before I left for Colorado, and I (subconsciously because I love her) corrected something Liz said. "If you know what I mean, don't correct me," she told me, full of sassiness.

Haircuts are complicated. I'm never nervous about the change to my hair or anything along those lines. What makes me nervous is being trapped for upwards of half an hour, forced to make conversation with someone I barely know. I've had nightmares like those.

revolving door principle.

Jillian and I have been firing texts back and forth these past few weeks, discussing things like running and the future and boys and friendships. Repeatedly, what Jillian calls the revolving door principle has come up.


In the Denver airport I met a boy named Dane. He was wearing red flannel and pointy shoes. I sat there next to him for half an hour until his illegally downloaded music started blaring at top volume, and he ripped his headphones out of his ears. We both laughed. When I first started talking to him, he was flipping through a stack of Mental Floss magazines. We talked about memes and Vail and parents and Stephen King and Pulp Fiction ("what's your opinion on John Travolta?" he asked,) and Tina Fey. When I stood up to leave, I turned to him and said, I'm Katie, by the way. He said, I'm Dane. It’s nice to meet you, Katie, and then we shook hands, I walked one way and he walked the other and even though the goodbye was kind of sad, it was nice to have a new friend for forty-five minutes.


That's how the revolving door works. 


And for Jillian and I, the revolving door spun us in the same direction when I was a baby blogger and I found her blog. I had just published the first post that I worked hard on, that I felt self-conscious and nervous about publishing (see also: here and here) and it was the first post she read. That's how it started. 


It's funny to think how different things could be if you had been five minutes late to that one thing, or if you had gotten an extra shift at work. Meg Ryan says, "You make a million decisions that mean nothing, and then one day you order takeout and it changes your life." 


This year's was the first 4th of July that I've been home out of the past three. Arguably, the best. Maybe it was because it was my last day alone before my dad came home from Athens and there was parental influence in my life again. Maybe it was because I went to see fireworks with one of my best friends after not seeing him for too long. Maybe it was because I was so so happy to be home. Whatever it was, sitting on a blanket at the cultural center while fireworks exploded was better than wrapping chicken in a tortilla, sitting on the floor of a hotel in Brussels. And it was better than eating an authentic Thanksgiving dinner in a Middle Eastern country. And it's strange that right now, home is better than somewhere else.


I dropped off three rolls of film today. I'm this weird mix of excited and nervous to pick it up. Excited to sit in the car with the air conditioning running and flip through the photos, see the Grand Canyon and Four Corners and the twisty roads through Colorado. Nervous because there's a good chance they'll suck.


Also, it stormed tonight. I sat in my family room with a sickeningly strong cup of jasmine green tea, watching Sleepless in Seattle and reading a book. Eventually, the rain died down and cleared out enough that the sunset gradually soaked through the remaining mistiness. Our family room flooded with this soft, gorgeous light, and for the first time in too long, I grabbed my camera from its bag and ran downstairs and outside. Barefoot, wet grass, beautiful light. It was perfect.


I live five minutes away from work and usually during that five minutes, I can flip through three or four radio stations. More often than not, I've been settling on country. Not because I enjoy it; because every time I drove with my mother, she had a playlist of country music, with three songs that I deemed acceptable. We listened to those songs over and over again. The country music reminds me of her. I'll be back in Colorado in two weeks and I can't wait. Sometimes I miss them so much it hurts.


This post has gone in a far different direction that it was supposed to. Maybe this is better. 


something I wrote up last week and never published. 

something like coming home.

I drove home from the airport last night right as the sun started to set over the mountains. The sky turned from purpleblue to darkblackblue and the storms in Castle Rock crackled the sky with lighting. It rained for a few minutes, and  I wanted to roll down my window, but instead I inhaled with every inch of me because there is nothing in the world like the smell of Colorado rain, and for a few minutes, it felt like coming home.

you're like a party.

kerouac- twinsies- travis cat- graduation tulips- the littlest one turns ten- joseph, me, alex, canoeing (stolen from joseph's facebook)

For whatever reason, it's hard to write on here. I'm writing, yes, but I'm filling up journal pages and emails to friends and Fernweh articles, while this blog sits lonely and neglected. I guess people move on and grow up and out of things, but I never thought this was something I'd grow out of. Part of the problem, I think, is that I've lost Darcy's cord, which (while not preventing me from taking pictures) prevents me from doing anything with those pictures. 

It's hard, even, to share what's happening in my life. Things like, I broke up with my boyfriend five days ago, and sometimes, for a split second I forget that we're no longer dating because it's been four months since I've been alone, but at the same time, I'm happy to no longer have that commitment. 

Or things like, my mama and baby sisters left for Colorado last week, and they'll be gone for several months longer than I would like, and it was hard to not be able to cry into my mom's shoulder last Thursday. I miss them like crazy.

Or things like, just over a week ago, I sat on a stage in a bright yellow gown with heels and a hat, and then I walked across that same stage and then I was no longer in high school. Or things like, next year is coming so soon, and I'm so excited and scared. 

Or things like, we went canoeing today and ate turkey next to a river and the boys splashed me until I was soaking wet, and I'm so bad at applying sunscreen that my right thigh is bright pink. 

Or things like, I waited until midnight so I could buy The Party off of Regina Spektor's new album, and then listened to it repeatedly. It makes me feel like summer and happiness. You should give it a listen.

Or things like, I spent an entire Sunday afternoon with my best friend, and we ate out, and watched loads of movies, and it was perfectly spontaneous. I have a list of every time one of us says, "we should do that!" and Sunday was productive in terms of watching Ferris Bueller, (the first time, for me) and taking pictures in the mall's photobooth. I like best friends.

Or things like, this time last year was my first week in Jordan, adjusting to culture shock, the dust of the desert, and the prospect of an entire summer without my family. I have a hard time realizing that it was only two years ago, and at the same time, feeling like I've lived a lifetime since then. I guess it makes a big difference if you think about only the big events, versus the individual days and the individual moments. 

Or things like, it's 2:16am, and I've just typed out an entire post that might not make very much sense in the morning, but it's something for you to read, and it's something to help me train myself back into the habit of writing things to post here, even when it's hard or I don't feel like it. 

some infinities.

Four minutes about John Green's book, the Fault in Our Stars. It's one of my favorite school projects that I've done, and I'd love for you to watch it.

In other news, I graduate a week from Saturday (one year early) which is crazy and exciting, but also scary. As soon as school/graduation is out of the way, I should be around more. What's new with you?

five happy things and one sad.

Chinese food for lunch with this crazy little girl. Instagraming (@katie_esther) through my pretty -and shiny!- new ipod touch. Celebrating my 17th birthday last Tuesday, and all the fun things that come along with that (like cake, birthday presents, tulips from the boy, and bright pink sunburned legs). Going through boxes of old photos, and laughing at the memories. Watching Titanic for the first time last night (oh, Jack) with my best friend+my little sister.

I said goodbye to my mama yesterday- two more weeks in Colorado for her. Not fun for me.

Happy Easter!

ps. I am trying not to feel guilty about not blogging, and hopefully, I'll be around more throughout the next few months and the summer. :)

it's time to fangirl.

I am so excited.

I'm trying really hard not to think about it or talk about it too much because if I do, I get too excited and it feels like the next thirteen hours and forty-eight minutes will last forever. Thank goodness I have work for most of the morning and a date after work.

This might go on record as the longest day this year.

I'm planning to buy some gold eyeliner, Cinna-style, and pass it around to all my friends when we're waiting at the theater this evening. Libby has a pretty fantastic t-shirt tutorial. (for me, it would read Finnick & Finnick & Finnick & Finnick. I just love him so much.)

Are you dressing up at all for the movie tonight? Will you be there for the midnight showing tonight? Are you as excited as I am?

february is good for living.

 hannah nicole, posted on fernweh. 

And then I spent an hour staring at the computer screen, trying to find a way to say what I need to say (cue John Mayer) and get back into this writing thing.

Lately, it's been hard for me to get anything done. I don't know if this is Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) (yes, it's a thing, and I pretend I have it) or if I'm just lazy. Either way, I don't like it. I'm turning in Fernweh articles late, forgetting about homework assignments, and not-blogging. I think it's just this thing where I am trying to do too many things in one week, and I end up doing all of them badly. My camera has sat in his bag for weeks, and it's been seventeen days since I've published a blog post. But February is almost over, and for that I am thankful.

I'm having coffee with an old best friend on Saturday. Things haven't been good with her for a long time. We've grown up a lot since the last time we last really talked, and I'm scared and excited to see her. These are the things that I'm going to say:

"I'm sorry. It wasn't all your fault and I treated you badly and I wish that I had realized that sooner."

"Remember that time, eating peach ice cream under your neighbor's trampoline? And the time that we danced around your room with the strobe light on? And how we would make cookies at two am? And how you would put so much sugar in your coffee that it made your teeth hurt?"

"I've been dating this boy since the middle of January, and it makes me sad that you weren't one of the first people I told. You might know him- remember the boy that hit me in the face with a dodgeball in eighth grade? That's him. I'm sure that you would like him if you got to know him, and maybe we should go on a double date sometime?"

"My mom says that you're going to college somewhere close to home. Are you still going to do something with photography? We should take pictures together. I still want to learn how to use my film camera."

"I miss you. You were my first best friend when I moved here, and I'm sorry that we ruined it."

February is good for living and remembering and apologizing and loving.

I'll see you in March, friends.

exploring the moon.

This is one of the prettiest music videos that I've ever seen. I'm on the third or fourth listen right now. (Also, where can I buy airmail envelopes like that?) (Also, also, I like how they have the lyrics incorporated into the video.) 

Today, I'm loving poorlywrittenhistory's flickr, (particularly the above photo) this Valentine's compilation on Fernweh, this photo and this photo from one of my favorite photographers, and this Threadless t-shirt (Amsterdam will always have a special place in my heart). 

I'm not celebrating Valentine's today. Instead, I spent my afternoon watching Apollo 13 for a history class. This evening, I spent time with some of my best friends at small group. It was a very uneventful, unexciting day. But it was good. I like these low-key days where I get stuff done, without the sort of overwhelming busyness that most days hold. 

Apollo 13. Have you seen it? I remembered bits and pieces of it as I was watching...maybe I saw it years ago? but for the most part, it was completely new. I'd really rather not go in depth talking about it (I literally just finished writing a paper about the movie) but there was one line, right at the end, that I typed out and I wanted to share with you: "Sometimes I catch myself looking up at the moon and wondering when we'll be going back and who it will be." 

That really resonated with me. I don't like staying home for more than a year. It's become a bit of a joke in our family, "So-and-so is going to Turkey/Athens/Canada for ten days this summer-" "What?? Maybe I can go with them!" It happens every day. Anyways, what if that illusive place, the place that you were so close to without actually getting there, was the moon? And how would that feel to look at it every night knowing that you'll never reach it? In some ways, that's a depressing thought, but in other ways, it's encouraging to know that you tried your best to get there, and not-getting-there was out of your control. I don't know...it's late and I'm typing as I'm thinking, so this probably doesn't make very much sense. 

Okay. Goodnight. 

ps. I know I said that I was going to talk about The Fault in Our Stars but I'm writing something about it on Fernweh later this month so maybe you can read it on there? okaybye. 

unexcused absences.

Between writing for Fernweh, and the one or two papers a week for my business class, (more on that in a minute) I haven't been in the mood to write on here. When we started Fernweh, I promised my mom that I'd continue posting here. So far, I haven't really kept that promise. But, new month, second chances, all that.

I'm so glad January is over. January & February & March are my least favorite months of the year. February should be ok because of reasons (more on that later) and March, well...March 23 is going to be the best day of the entire year. Tickets for the Hunger Games movie go on sale on February 22, and I'm buying a ticket for the midnight showing. ;) March can't get here fast enough!

A year ago, as a high school sophomore, I started taking college classes. Today, I'm sitting in the basement of the science building. It's so crazy to look back on last year. I'm not sure I could even describe how nervous I was on the first day of class. It's gotten better, and I'm at the point where it's just normal. This semester, I'll be completing my seventh, eighth, and ninth college classes. And you know what? I like it a lot.

My business class is by far my favorite class this semester. The professor is this charming, older man who has a reputation for being incredibly unbiased, and maybe a little harsh, when it comes to grading. A past student referred to this class not as Business 101, but as Life 100, and he was right. He teaches so well, and it's not just limited to business.

 I...ok, I threw a fit when my mother made me take this class. We talked to the professor the week before it started, and he told us that a large portion of the class is group work, outside of class. No, thank you.

Anyways, my mom forced me to take it. I called her after the first day and apologized, because I love this class. There really is nothing that I don't like about it. And that's a good feeling.

How was your January?

time lapse.

Take a look at this beautiful video. It's incredible: so many countries and people and photographs. The photos of Petra and Amman are stunning. It's crazy to think that it's been nearly two years since I left for Jordan. Portugal & Thailand look beautiful too. Someday, I would love to visit any or all of the countries pictured. I love that there are so many places to go.

ps. I read John Green's new book, The Fault in Our Stars, yesterday. I'll post a review as soon as possible, but for now, it was incredible.

fun fun fun.

It's grey and dark and rainy outside, this first day of the new year. Today was all kinds of crazy- mainly, it was the launch of Fernweh. Fernweh began as Libby's brainchild, and the result of an email sent out to a group of us in October. We've worked crazy-hard on this (Hannah and Libby most of all) and I'm so happy that it's finally published and out there. I'd love to know what you think of it.

As for the rest of life, it's good. My grandparents are here until Wednesday, and after a year of not seeing them, I'm not sure I could describe how much fun it's been to have them here.

I'm excited to see what happens this year.

  5 years time, by noah & the whale