All up on this! 
Oh, you know. Just some girls trying to pick senior photos.  Gale Force Winds Applied Directly to Face This picture blows.
PREACH, Deb. 
For my birthday? Someone? Please? I promise I’ll still be surprised. 
Design Pulse Beach Clay: Strong Destructing Mud, Express Blowout Créme, Thermo Glide, Messy Couture… Am I the only one whose sorry mind draws a blank at these oh-so pretentious titles? ;) I mean, I suppose I feel slightly professional with these salon samplers in hand - but all this cosmetic jargon flies right over my head. Doesn’t “destructing mud” sound like something you WOULDN’T want to put on your head? And doesn’t Thermo Glide sound like a roller coaster attraction in Space World? Oh, and don’t even get me started on nail polish names. I just bought this dark purple polish that is called “Let’s Talk.” The manufacturer is SINFUL Colors Professional, which makes other polishes with names like “What’s Your Name” (probably inspired by Rihanna), “Well Prepared,” “Tahiti Breeze,” “Show Me The Way,” “Folly,” “Boom Boom”… and somehow these names embody color? And if you wear these colors, your nails will be like a Tahitian wind? I’m just feeling particularly amused right now. That is all! 
I have always believed that everyone is interconnected; that every person who crosses another’s path is of consequence. Maybe even lasting consequence. And yet it seems that the people we encounter are of no consequence. It’s been said that every man is his own island, and while I could never bring myself to believe that before, I’ve opened my eyes and I can see people kicking up the dirt, digging those canals. We forget ourselves in forgetting everyone else. Is it worth looking out for “#1” when there is only so much life that can be lived on our own? I’m just saying, there is value in looking people in the eye. In remembering. But I guess it’s a shark-eat-shark world. Keep moving or die. And so we all move, and nobody seems to really move together. There is risk in companionship but just as much risk in solitude. When your island is out of clean water, who’s going to bring the rain? 
Dear summer: First off, you have been missed. Secondly, you really don’t write to me enough. Emphasis on the ‘really.’ You’d think that with the crazy array of technology available to us today, we’d manage to keep closer in touch; but, then again, time machines have eluded us as of yet. So, I guess we can manage with a little digital scrapbook. The sweetest thing you’ve ever given me is memories. You remind me of who I have been and who I might be when you visit me next.  The beginning of the last months that we spent together? Oh yeah, I remember. The first moments consisted of me moving out of Aagard Hall at Corban University. A 90-minute trip in a Dodge Durango stuffed with my personal college universe brought me back to home-sweet-home. During the trip, I was reading a text that my roommate had sent me the night before: “Last night I get to sleep under you.” I was top bunk, and she was bottom bunk. Man, I had gotten so used to things. But being reunited with you was an overwhelming joy.  In the words of Anberlin: “Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am young again.” That’s only the half of it. Obviously, my freshman year of college hadn’t done much to curb my pervasive inner dork. (I’m okay with that fact.)  You reminded me of passions that I’d forgotten. You reminded me to see what others can’t, and to show the word those special intricacies that would otherwise have no place in the midst of things. I took up a canvas and I painted what I knew of freedom. Half a decade had gone by since I’d last touched a brush with an artist’s intent, and I’m extremely proud of what now hangs on my wall. You gave that to me, and I’m grateful.  You took me back to the one place that I have always called home: the ocean. God even saw to it that we had a little bit of sun to enjoy at the usually cloud-cozy Newport coast. You reminded me to touch the sand and sink my naked feet in the mud. To enjoy every breath.  You reminded me that my sister… is pretty rad. When all is said and done.  Hell, you even reminded me of my inner rock star. You went with me to the streets of Portland with my boyfriend and I, where I got to see one of my favorite musicians of all time perform her pretty heart out. You reminded me of what it is like to be truly inspired; to connect with strangers and old loves alike.  Our time was filled with wonderful company and cool nights. Warmer nights came in Indiana, as did the fireflies. I love each and every evening that came my way. You came right along with me to Indianapolis, Indiana, where I took on the Midwest with my dad & sis. I swam, touched an elephant’s hot, wiry-haired skin, got my first-ever caricature, and enjoyed every ounce of the city, home of the Colts and the Indy 500.  Through the sunburns and the insanity, you and I shared many SONIC drinks & ice creams together. Cheers! I gained and I lost. You reminded me to hold onto everything I’ve been Blessed with. RIP, Jack. We pressed on to Hillsboro, Oregon, where I went to Warped Tour 2011 with friends old and new. By the time I got home, I was deaf and probably had the black lung. But I’ll never forget the dustbowl days, with the crazy moshes, incredible musicians, and near-death blows-to-the-head. I still haven’t forgiven that fool who threw that crowd surfer on top of my unsuspecting head. Flesh wounds, am I right? …and look, we found Family Force 5 again! With times like these, you learn to cherish those sweaty hugs and squinting-at-the-camera shots.  August Burns Red freaking knows how to put on a show and show their faith. You reminded me of the beauty of that. Admittedly, there are some things I’ll never forget. But you always come back around and give me a blank slate to flood; I roll back the last sheet to let it dry and start fresh. You always give me that fresh beginning. You always show me brand new sides of myself. I’m ready for you, Summer. Always am. I’m ready for everything you’re going to bring me. I’m only counting down the days. Until then… write me. …Yours truly.

Dear summer: First off, you have been missed.

Secondly, you really don’t write to me enough. Emphasis on the ‘really.’ You’d think that with the crazy array of technology available to us today, we’d manage to keep closer in touch; but, then again, time machines have eluded us as of yet. So, I guess we can manage with a little digital scrapbook. The sweetest thing you’ve ever given me is memories. You remind me of who I have been and who I might be when you visit me next. 

The beginning of the last months that we spent together? Oh yeah, I remember. The first moments consisted of me moving out of Aagard Hall at Corban University. A 90-minute trip in a Dodge Durango stuffed with my personal college universe brought me back to home-sweet-home. During the trip, I was reading a text that my roommate had sent me the night before: “Last night I get to sleep under you.” I was top bunk, and she was bottom bunk. Man, I had gotten so used to things. But being reunited with you was an overwhelming joy. 

In the words of Anberlin: “Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am young again.” That’s only the half of it. Obviously, my freshman year of college hadn’t done much to curb my pervasive inner dork. (I’m okay with that fact.) 

You reminded me of passions that I’d forgotten. You reminded me to see what others can’t, and to show the word those special intricacies that would otherwise have no place in the midst of things. I took up a canvas and I painted what I knew of freedom. Half a decade had gone by since I’d last touched a brush with an artist’s intent, and I’m extremely proud of what now hangs on my wall. You gave that to me, and I’m grateful. 

You took me back to the one place that I have always called home: the ocean. God even saw to it that we had a little bit of sun to enjoy at the usually cloud-cozy Newport coast. You reminded me to touch the sand and sink my naked feet in the mud. To enjoy every breath. 

You reminded me that my sister… is pretty rad. When all is said and done. 

Hell, you even reminded me of my inner rock star.

You went with me to the streets of Portland with my boyfriend and I, where I got to see one of my favorite musicians of all time perform her pretty heart out. You reminded me of what it is like to be truly inspired; to connect with strangers and old loves alike. 

Our time was filled with wonderful company and cool nights. Warmer nights came in Indiana, as did the fireflies. I love each and every evening that came my way.

You came right along with me to Indianapolis, Indiana, where I took on the Midwest with my dad & sis. I swam, touched an elephant’s hot, wiry-haired skin, got my first-ever caricature, and enjoyed every ounce of the city, home of the Colts and the Indy 500. 

Through the sunburns and the insanity, you and I shared many SONIC drinks & ice creams together. Cheers!

I gained and I lost. You reminded me to hold onto everything I’ve been Blessed with. RIP, Jack.

We pressed on to Hillsboro, Oregon, where I went to Warped Tour 2011 with friends old and new. By the time I got home, I was deaf and probably had the black lung. But I’ll never forget the dustbowl days, with the crazy moshes, incredible musicians, and near-death blows-to-the-head. I still haven’t forgiven that fool who threw that crowd surfer on top of my unsuspecting head. Flesh wounds, am I right?

…and look, we found Family Force 5 again! With times like these, you learn to cherish those sweaty hugs and squinting-at-the-camera shots. 

August Burns Red freaking knows how to put on a show and show their faith. You reminded me of the beauty of that.

Admittedly, there are some things I’ll never forget. But you always come back around and give me a blank slate to flood; I roll back the last sheet to let it dry and start fresh. You always give me that fresh beginning. You always show me brand new sides of myself. I’m ready for you, Summer. Always am. I’m ready for everything you’re going to bring me. I’m only counting down the days. Until then… write me.

…Yours truly.

→