My great California trip has passed, midterms are over, and now I'm just living. School is still my main priority, because it owns me AND my parent's paycheck, but weekends like this remind me that there's more than the stress of a way too heavy Northface backpack:
There's seeing Fleet Foxes and wanting to cry at how sweet Robin Pecknold's voice sounds in real life. There's not being able to breathe in a black denim pencil skirt at a 90's themed party.
There's dancing to Shakira with a few friends at a party where no one else seems to be dancing.
There's 30 Rock and realizing that I would be more than okay to be Liz Lemon when I grow up.
There's chinese food.
There's being hit on by a self-proclaimed crackhead at a Margot and the Nuclear So & So's show.
There's your dad giving you a hug when you walk in through the doors of the home you've grown to miss so much (even though you're only an hour and a half away...).
There's cake batter ice cream.
Here's a few photos I've been meaning to share of memories I've loved from the past few weeks.
And I love that I'm finally getting back into it. Writing, that is. I'm finally remembering why I love it so much. And it's not just my writing, it's everyone's writing. Words are such a beautiful thing. Being able to communicate thoughts that only we can interpret is just so...incredible. I do a lot of writing...a lot, but it's not a burden. I think for a brief amount of time that's what I saw writing for pleasure as, a burden, but it's so much the opposite. It's just a sweet release. I'm learning that the words don't need to be elaborate or over-thought. They just need to be.
Noam Chomsky would be so proud of my little linguistic love fest happening right now.