I’ve felt like I was on a metal ship hurdling through the air at 500 miles an hour away from everything I love for quite some time now, but now I literally am! Ha ha ha. But the strange thing is, I’m not devastated by it. I mean, I don’t love it. I love Kansas City so much, so much that its even weird to say love. Because you don’t talk about how much you love your blood, or your internal organs. But you probably would if they were missing from you. That’s how I feel about Kansas City. But I love Chicago. I love Loyola. And its still a budding love, but its there. And when I was backat St. Teresas’s, (a good place to come back to. A good place to center. A good place to get back to yourself at.) I thought about the love I had for everyone there, everything there. The trees and the skirts and the tile floors and the stairs and the laughter and all of it. And how silly, how stupid it would have been to waste even a minute there wishing I was somewhere else. And I’ve decided I’m n...
I always wanted to be a good writer, but my sister was always better. I think she cared about it before I did. I don't know what I cared about before I cared about this. I didn't write it down. I don't know what I was like before I was like this. I probably never will. My sister will probably always be a better writer than me. That's okay. I kind of like my clunky way of putting words together, the same way I kind of like blurry photos, or noise when you're trying to sleep, or unwashed hair. Things dirty and raw. +++ Today I purposely left my coat at home ("home") just so I could feel the cold walking to the library. I want to feel everything deeply. Everyone I talk to loves the fall. I get it--gold may be nature's first green but it also seems to be her last. Everything outside is golden and and bright and sharp. I like the changing of the trees because it gives the world a heightened sense of noticing. The tree I pass by every day ...