We’re being taught BANG!, a tabletop game set in the mostly-mythical Wild West world of duels and sheriffs and gold. Half of us have never played, so even starting the game has turned out to be a chaotic process, but it’s been fun so far. At the start of the game, I drew the card of the “Renegade,” so my character’s goal is to be the last woman standing—an unexpectedly strategic role for a game that comes in a bullet-shaped canister.
It’s been a gray week. In the weather, sure, but also in my head. Getting out of bed in the morning has become a monumental effort. Work, classes, and other responsibilities are low-priority background noises. I’m distractible, irritable, not fully present wherever my body is. It’s strange. I’m not quite myself. And it’s even stranger… Continue reading gray skies
Today is All Saints Day. To many with evangelical or non-denominational faith upbringings like me, this might not mean much. Or, perhaps, it does mean something—something negative. The saints are a touchy subject in the contemporary American church. But I think, if we allow ourselves to shed the theological baggage for just a moment, we might find something beautiful.
I’m not much of a poetry person. Don’t get me wrong—I love poetry. It makes me feel things. But, given the choice of any genre, it’s not what I turn to for leisure reading. Depending on the poet, most attempts on my part to understand what they’re saying leaves me only confused and vaguely insulted… Continue reading a lament
It happens as I’m sitting at a table in the Bruin Den, contemplating purchasing a latte. As I’m walking down the tiled hallway to fill up my water bottle. As I’m laying in bed, squeezing in a quick nap before getting back to work. In class. On the phone with a loved one. Enjoying coffee… Continue reading a deep breath
This summer, I signed my first lease. At the time, I felt that it should’ve been an event—after all, it was a life milestone. I was an adult now. I had to pay rent now. But instead it was alarmingly easy.
Most people who know me even peripherally know that I have a deep, deep love of plants. My mom laments that I can’t let a dying plant die, that I have to take it in and nurture it back to health. In my apartment, we joke that we have the best air quality on campus.… Continue reading in the garden
The thick mats that cover the floors of this climbing gym are supposedly not meant for lounging, but no one seems to mind. Hailey and I are on our backs, arms pressed together, chatting about everything and nothing as our boyfriends attempt to climb a difficult undercut route nearby.
In the summer of 2017, in the midst of our mother-daughter New York trip, my mom and I get the chance to visit the National September 11 Memorial Museum. Neither of us know what to expect.
Recently, a conversation with my apartment-mates dragged a long-forgotten song to the forefront of my mind--a Sunday school memory, childish and uncomplicated. With almost alarming accuracy, I began to sing "Jesus the Soccer Star", complete with the dance motions I'd been taught many years prior. I didn't think this was a strange memory. My apartment-mates did.