9 days left...

If I had to use one word to categorize the last week of my life, I would use restless. It was as if there was this giant to-do list in my head, with all things fitting under one of three major categories: tattoo; Oxford; finals. I have since checked off the first item on that list. Yesterday morning I got my ‘agape’ tattoo on my left wrist. Now, I cannot stop staring at my white wrist, marked with five black characters. My wrist has looked the same for the past nineteen years, and then I had the audacity to introduce a foreign entity that will be there forever. I love it beyond reason, and I cannot help falling in love with how beautiful it is.
This week, my buzz word would have to be nostalgic. It is starting to hit me how much I will miss living in the lounge of Crowder 600 with the girls who make this whole college thing worthwhile. My roommate sang in chapel this morning, so before hand I went up and gave her a big hug. My other roommate has been gone since yesterday afternoon, and I am missing her. On any given day, I will make time to catch up with my girls, even if it has only been four hours since I last saw them. And then, during the summer, I will resign all of this for Portland and a job and home life. I don’t know how I will adjust. I have absolute freedom here. I arranged to get a tattoo all by myself. I have been dealing with paperwork and phone calls and ligistical nightmares for the past year all by myself. I have next year all set all by myself. And then, for the next three months, I will give these freedoms up to live at home. Not that home is repressive or anything, it just isn’t college. Nothing is quite like college.
This past year has been fantastic, and it has taken me so much deeper into my quest towards self-awareness than I would have expected. It has fostered my INTJ personality like none other. And it has given me Crowder 600. I cannot help but sit in awe of how God could have orchestrated this floor, simply because He knew we all needed each other. He gave me these girls, and I forever in debt to Him for that (and everything else He has given me here). Thank heaven for agape.

21 days left...

Alexa has a paper chain of alternating green, yellow, and red links across her wall. Everyday she pulls off another one. The remaining links add up to how many days of school we have left (assuming last finals on Wednesday). Something like Christmas.
This is a bittersweet kind of countdown. Everyday means I am closer to no more papers, no more assignments, no more cafeteria food, and no more paying for laundry. This also, however, means closer to no more roommates, no more lounge parties, no more floor events, no more 24/7 socializing. Over the past two semesters, the girls on the floor and I have become closer than I would have thought possible, more like sisters, less like forced companions. My summer will be branded a different kind of 'boring.' I will miss my two roomies; I will miss my 600 girls. But at the same time, I always have next semester to look forward to, and I suppose I will get to test the theory of 'absence makes the heart grow fonder...'

April Fools

First day of April should not equal waking up to snowflakes falling from the sky. Nor should it entail looking at the clock only to discover that New Testament starts in eight minutes. Nor should it involve scuffling around in the dark, searching for the black, NU sweatshirt and non-skinny jeans. Nor should it contain the coldest morning I have felt in awhile. None of these things should go together on what should be a spring day. But, alas, on this particular April Fools in Kirkland, all of these things happened to me.
At least there wasn't chapel today.
Debate is now over for the year, my weekend unexpectedly cleared up (for better or for worse), and I am wondering how in the world to manipulate light in travel photography. It's not like I can direct it into a certain space when the picture includes everything. I still have not seen the Fremont Troll, despite my most valiant efforts. On the plus side, Elizabeth Constance and I discovered the sweetest park in Fremont. Bikers and runners traversed the paved path, while random patches of daffodils sprung up beside the parallel mud one. I could hear the coach of the University of Washington's dragonboat racing team talking into a megaphone from the river. But no Troll.
I suppose life can be viewed from either the positive or the negative. Whether something was done, or something was not done. I did not find the Troll. I did discover a park. I did not feel well. I did have a lovely dinner. I did not realize the difference. I did make the change.