Oh, this year.

When I know I’m feeling a thousand different emotions, and I can’t tell what any of them are, I write them out and hope to gain some clarity. But, this year, oh boy, this year. Writing it out may leave me more confused than before.

This year I was burdened, free, motherly, loud, dance-y, exhausted, life-filled.

This year I …

learned how to edit a newspaper.

rolled with the boys.

got the perfect glasses.

learned about my heart.

started a love journal. (Love will find a way.)

laughed loud and long and lively.

felt at home.

prayed for server crashes, for couples, for beds that wouldn’t come apart, for the sake of fulfilling the command to pray continually.

wore skirts and boots.

danced with loose, wild arms flailing about.

waved at people with all I had.

loved in the same way.

handed out business cards.

bawled like a baby in front of people.

slept on couches, under tables, on gross, brown, carpeted floors, and sometimes in my janky, breaky, cheap Ikea bed.

made my house a home a few times with big, homemade, family pizza nights, laughter, and Jesus.

discovered Summer/Weekend self.

sang karaoke.

watched a stupid video about Creed more times than anyone should ever have to.

(heard it referenced even more.)

melted down.

drove to the beach.

(yes those two are connected.)

played bingo in the most inappropriate situations.

signed two leases.

bought grown up shoes (including the world’s biggest heels.)

ate late-night doughnuts whenever I felt like.

drank more coffee than anyone should be allowed.

which necessitated more whipped cream.

ended sentences in prepositions whenever I thought it was appropriate to.

ranted while gesticulating wildly, standing on chairs (whenever deemed necessary), and rolling my eyes.

treasured up a whole trove of sticky notes.

lived like a wild woman, in pursuit of a gentle Savior … and was reminded time and time and time again He’s what truly matters.

To my team.

 

(photo courtesy nick chavez, the biolan)

 

Well, it’s Tuesday night and the Closing Time boys are singing. For one of the last times this semester. And I’m all curled up on the gross brown couch (that I’ve slept on too many times) thinking happy, sad, cheesy thoughts.

So, kids, we’ve almost done it. And I’ve been almost-weepy and smiley-sentimental for the past three weeks.

You all know that, cause you take care of me. And because I think you’re feeling it too. We’re finally reaching the end of a journey that we started out on with nothing but determination, Quark Express 7 (good Lord, WHY?!?!?) and high hopes of spurring conversation.

I think we’ve done that. We’ve asked big questions: Can Christians be Democrats? (Don’t worry, we all know the answer is no.) Do we need more men leading on campus? (Uh, what is it to be a man anyway?) Should we celebrate Oktoberfest? (Not without beer … drink up!)

And we’ve sought out some big stories: construction everywhere, rising tuition, housing drama, big staff/faculty changes, student government, and the Jesus Mural.

We’ve changed our look, redesigning the print and web editions to be pretty, cohesive, and red.

All of these are big things. And we should be joyful about them. But, you know what? I’m most joyful about you guys.

We’ve gone to Denny’s, watched Quark crash, played tag on the roof of URM, celebrated the 90s, debated countless things with passion and vigor, occupied the office, watched stupid YouTube videos (YESSEAH), built blanket forts, shoved Joey in a closet (#ACPSEA), eaten Alberto’s and loved on Ryan Gosling (hey, girl.)

Because you’ve all contributed to the team, served joyfully, and grown as humans and journalists.

Amy: yo dawg, your quiet, yet persistent leadership has kept the web pushing toward new standards of excellence in the midst of a year of web-first. You’ve been patient, innovative, and dedicated. Your giggles are generally a sign that it’s way too late, but they’re also SO funny.

AJ: you took a couple of designers and helped us find a cohesive vision for our look. You challenged me, encouraged the team, and maintained the harem with your signature flair, humor, and vivacity. Speeches on chairs, loud rants, and late night chats are the best.

Amber: you jumped through crazy hoops to fill different roles this year. And you did it with grace, style, and a thoroughness that challenged me, inspired me and encouraged me. You have sacrificed much for the Chimes, and I couldn’t be more grateful. “What am I, Magic Mike talking to you right now?!?”

Kristina: you stepped in this semester, dealt with some crazy changes, and still took the Assistant News position to new levels. You completed tasks well, networked gracefully and forced a smile even on the most tired of days. You’re going to do big things in the PR world and I can’t wait to see them.

Lena: oh Lena, my Lena. Though it may be the shortest run as features editor ever, you did it well. Your laughter is my favorite, your awkward moments are endearing, and I just love the way in which your love for Jesus and His people is so evident. Let’s start a school together, okay? (Btdubs, I think you’re GReat.)

Chazzy-boo: I couldn’t ask for a better office-roommate. Thanks for spurring on controversial conversations, challenging the status quo, and encouraging my coffee addiction. If it wasn’t for you, I may not have ever considered not hating the Occupy movement. Get some sleep this summer.

Joseaaph: your laid back and easygoing nature have helped keep me sane during the most stressful of production nights and your chocolate stash has fueled me with the needed endorphins to be happy about it. You have learned so much and are so eager to teach others, and it’s been a joy seeing that happen for the past year and some-odd months. You’re gonna be a great staff dad!

Becca: thanks for stepping up and helping Amy keep her cool (and build origami birds.) You went above and beyond the role of apprentice, and I (and the website) couldn’t be more thankful.

Job: you are the Father Time of the Chimes. You’ve done everything, and this year, you helped to teach others about photos in a way that has been fantastic, flexible, and fun. Thanks for being so kindhearted and eager to help others. I seriously am so grateful for you, your love for Switchfoot and the Phantom, and your encouraging nature.

Ashley: you encourage others, think big thoughts, and partner with Job in the most joyful of ways. I love that you pray for good shots and the Lord answers. Way to work with a team this year.

Katie J: you laugh. And I love it. Your abilities have grown so much in the past year and a half, and I love that when you come through the office, you tear through like a whirlwind. I’m so excited to see how God ends up using you and your heart for kids.

Sunshine: you’re a freakin beast. You have come through countless times, and always with impressive shots to boot. The joy you take in photography inspires me to seek joy in my work as well.

Jess: you care about people, and that comes through in the photos you take. You’re creative, while still telling stories, and that’s difficult to do. I love having you around the office!

Amanda: “Do you like unconventional toppings on your salads?” I will never get over the questions that you constantly have ready to go. Your humor and joy are such a blessing and still manage to constantly surprise me. You have served in a job that is tolling and difficult with little reward for two long years, and you’re still dedicated, thorough, and helpful.

Tim: thanks for caring enough about what you read to ask good questions. Thanks for calling me out on my ridiculous statements. It’s great to have someone who gets my Torrey-moments and love for college football in the office. I’m so glad you ended up joining us and becoming a part of our weird, quirky fam.

Lauralyn: thank you for caring enough about good writing to be harsh. I love your thoughtful approach to stories, your rare but kind affirmation, and your brilliant sense of humor. I’m so so so excited to have you as the senior copy editor next year and I can’t wait to hear every week’s new AP style reading. Oh, and thanks for hating double spaces after periods. (Archaic.)

Heidi: you are great. You dove into a motley video crew and assembled them for greatness. You encourage, make inappropriate jokes, and give your best in everything. Thanks for that!

T-Squad: I have to list the two of you at the same time. You two just exemplify good partnership. Trent, your editing skills, cheerful attitude, and dry sense of humor are the best. Taylor, your laughter, love for the Chimes community, and eagerness are such a blessing.

Jeff: it’s been too much fun to work with you over the past two years, and I’m so glad we get a third. Thanks for understanding my old-skool Chimes jokes, for digging in and contributing to the new look of the paper, and for rolling with countless absurd punches. (Remember that time the power went out TWICE?) So stoked to have you back next year.

Shmem: you have a boyfriend. Haha. But seriously, I’ve loved experiencing all your different sides. You are so caring, so funny, and so classy. We’re gonna have the best garden next year. Thanks for sticking around, despite late nights, early mornings, and having to sit next to Chazz.

Jake: you’ve allowed us to do some cool things with our money and you’ve made sure we didn’t spend too much. Those are both challenges, as is rolling with being called Papa. Way to keep up with the crazies.

Matt: Lord only knows, I did not know what I was getting myself into when I hired you. But He also knows how thankful I ended up with your hungry, inquisitive, friendly self on staff. You’ve been phenomenal this year and I’m so glad to have your wit and your unexpected writing skills in my life.

Lydia: even though I barely see you, you’ve helped make our advertisements fantastic, and you’ve done it all while being superwoman. I have mad respect for you and can’t wait to see you roll into D.C. on your bike this summer!

So, in conclusion, kids, I love y’all. You’re the best employees EVER — dedicated, loyal, thorough, and creative. You’re my friends — who would’ve thought you could like the people you worked with so much?!? You’re my family — in mostly good ways (until you start teasing me about boys or debating underwear. #yikestothemax)

Y’all have made this year worth every tear, prayer, and fight.

Love always,

—chief

P.S. If you ever need a glowing reference, you know who to call.

P.P.S. Tonight’s music theme? Just this song.

The problem with few women being in Computer Science…

is not, as GOOD argues, the culture of the brogrammer.

It’s a lack of women who are choosing this field of study for whatever reason that may be. (And if intimidation is the reason, then that’s a fault of the student, not the culture.) Sure, many men start university with more computer experience. Again, that’s due to personal experience, and can’t simply be chalked up to people only ever catering to men. In fact, more and more, we’re seeing programs born just for women because we need more “Girl Geeks.”

Women need to stop complaining about the lack of their sex in the computer sciences, and instead need to just dive in. Engage with the difficult tasks of programming, coding, and developing, and then encourage others who have the talent and drive (both men and women) to join you. Yeah, getting a job may be more difficult when you graduate because you’re a woman. I get that. It’s been that way for a long time. Suck it up. If you’re honing skills that make you valuable, you’ll get hired because you can do the best job. And if you don’t, then you don’t need to be utilizing your skills for that company anyway.

But, please, stop creating a false dichotomy between men and women in the computer world, because all you’re doing by that is reinforcing the idea that gender will always trump your involvement and talent. When, in reality, the whole goal here is to just have passionate individuals involved in innovative and creative technology-shaping. Those who are dedicated and skilled will succeed, even if they’re young women up against “brogrammers.”

thoughts on a tragedy

five years.

can you believe it?five years since the phone calls. the tears. the disbelief.

five years since our tiny town was shocked. torn. broken. shaken to the core.

by sin. by violence.

by the unthinkable.
and since then,

we’ve had five years.

can you believe it?

five years to tell each other i love you. to learn to live joyfully (through the tears). to believe in something bigger.

five years to pray for our tiny town to come together in community.

by grace. by faith.
and there are still yet,

five (more) years.

can you believe it?

five years to keep telling the same stories. to practice living fully (and still mourn). to proclaim a faith-filled hope.

five years to pray for our town to heal.

by enduring. by His mercies.

by remembering
everything about the last

five years.

 

see what others had to say five years later with this twitter roundup from the RT:

wanderlust

i want to live a wanderlusty sort of life.

i want to find the moments and live in them, drinking them in for everything they’re worth.

 

when i sip a perfect red drink, i want to be delighted by the sheer opportunity.

i want my days to be filled with sunny mornings &

passionate, service-oriented love for others &

meals eaten slowly, with laughter all around our table, filling our home.

 

i want to be in the present — dwelling in the tension of existence …

tackling and wrestling with big ideas that affect the whole of humanity & still remembering how small and frail i am.

 

i want to spend my dreams of the future on big, impossible dreams that only the Lord can bring.

i want to look at the past and see a friend and teacher.

 

but i want to live in the present. i want to speak words of truth & life, to make things just a little better, and to dream big, impossible dreams.

i want to love my neighbor and still remember the nations.

i want to practically use the earth, but still be taken aback by how gloriously large it is.

of course, i want to strike that ever-elusive “balance,”

but barring that, i want to enter into

 

this mess we call life

with a bursting-at-the-seams, full of wonder, adventure-seeking kind of JOY.

i want to always be holding together every moment

the deep and heartfelt sorrow & the resonating and satisfying joy that …

(i’m going to whisper this truth every moment)

we won’t last here long.

 

one day, (and oh, please make it soon)

our bodies will return to the earth & we’ll join in with the very most wanderlusty life there is,

where

(finally, praise God)

they will all be fulfilled — our big, impossible dreams.

Resolved: to be beautifully articulate

I grew up with a classical understanding of education. I knew that rhetoric was an important skill. I loved public speaking, engaged excitedly in debate and was careful in my selection of words.

However, I’ve slacked off since my nerdier days. (Okay, I’m probably still nerdy.)

My words have become vague, weak and sloppy. I pick something that will work, not the best possible term. Reading this over at the Chronicle of Higher Education really challenged me. I say “like” way too much. (Blame it on SoCal.) I’m a self-proclaimed technology and social media junkie. But, in contrast, I also have a deep and abiding love for simpler life and for monastic tradition. So you can imagine how hard this part of the article hit me:

Where “like” is the norm, silence is abhorred and the oxygen requisite to contemplation denied. Reflection, in a time of instant messaging, seems as quaint as the quill pen and the flickering of candles.

We extol critical thinking but wince to make room for a quiet period to allow it entrance. We attach a premium to spontaneity, even if it produces blather. Better to have the mouth moving than the wheels of the brain quietly turning.

Not only do we fail to say things well, but we fail to believe them. We are not inarticulate simply because of bad education. We are inarticulate because we don’t care enough about what we’re saying to say it with passion, to say it slow, and to say it well.

Maybe we need to start caring more about our words. Maybe it’s time we start believing what we say again. Sure, it may make us quieter for a time. But I think we could all probably use that.

For more on this, see one of my favorite poems ever by Taylor Mali:

[Typography from Ronnie Bruce on Vimeo]

A thank you.

I read an article today that darn near broke my heart. (My vernacular is getting more Southern the more I’m at home. Lucky for y’all.)

Statistically, the women are more likely than the men to attend college, be working a career track job, and attend church.

What are the guys doing? Often, they’re acting like boys who can shave, getting drunk, watching porn, attending sporting events, and treating responsibility like Superman does green kryptonite.

And that’s just the first few grafs of Mark Driscoll’s piece over at the Post on “Why men need marriage.”

From the beginning he strikes a tone painting women as mature, responsible and sweet. (Which believe me, not all women are. A point he acknowledges in one of the weakest “to be sure” grafs I’ve ever seen. “To be sure, there are some terrible women in the world…” But that’s another issue altogether.)

And he pictures men as a bunch of guys who are self-absorbed and foolish. While I’m sure both of these painfully sweeping generalizations have real people to back them up, the harsh tone Driscoll uses to address both men and women while “calling them out” to lives of real manhood didn’t set all that well with me.

You’d think from his rhetoric that there wasn’t a good man left on God’s green earth.

And I’m here to tell you, there are more than Driscoll would have you think. And for those in my life, I am truly grateful.

So, men in my life, here’s a letter that’s long overdue to say thank you.

Thank you for the way you’ve got my back. For treating me with respect, for giving me space to lead, for supporting me in my boldest and craziest plans. Thanks for protecting me, even if it’s just from myself. And thanks for recognizing when I don’t need to be protected. The ways in which you affirm me to be the woman God has made me to be are kindhearted and selfless — and they allow and inspire me to do big things.

Thanks for your passion and for doing big things for the Kingdom. You’re not, like Driscoll said, still clinging to your sippy cup. You’ve thrown it down with force and are taking giant steps toward teaching others to care deeply about Jesus and His goodness. You know you’ve been called to a grand adventure and you haven’t shied away.

Thank you for your humility in an age where guys are only portrayed as egotistical. The leadership that comes from such humility is ten thousand times more effective than that of a proud man. Though you lead boldly, you do it with so much heart, constantly showing your love for others. And when it gets hard, your prayers and willingness to seek out help remind me to do the same, even when it bruises my ego.

Thank you for taking responsibility seriously enough that you won’t get married prematurely. Your patience while you wait to meet a woman whom you will be able to serve and love well will undoubtedly be rewarded. And when you find her, like with me, you won’t be domineering or demand to be the most important. Instead, your thoughtfulness, passion and dedication will draw from her a deep respect. You’ll provide for her financially, sure, but you’ll go beyond just the basic idea of what a man should do — and you’ll provide for her spirit and heart too.

Oh, and speaking of patience, props on that, brother. Whether it’s putting up with my questions (about engines, sports or what you did today) or while you are waiting on God, you show a strength that is inspiring.

And hey, some feminists might not like this, but thank you for little things like opening doors for me and giving me shotgun in the car. These small things remind me and my sisters that we are cherished, something which we have forgotten. Thank you for helping to bear burdens (literally and figuratively) when they are too heavy to carry alone.

The time you’ve invested in me is precious, and I am grateful beyond words to be surrounded with men who are men.

From my father to my friends, I’ve seen what the Cross can do in the life of a man, and I’m pretty sure that’s what men need. Not just marriage.

So, brothers, press on. Marriage to the Bridegroom is your first priority. (Cheesy, I know.) But I’ve seen what it’s done in your life. And it’s made me want that relationship more in mine.

Whenever marriage does come for you, I know you’ll step into it well (like everything else) — because you’ll be stepping alongside Jesus.

Keep practicing being in step with Him. And know that it’s a joy for me to walk with you in this journey.

On the future of education

The world of technology is quickly changing. And everything else in the world is changing to reflect that. Perhaps one of the most fascinating arenas for this change is the world of education — especially higher education.

There are two popular camps right now.

1. Smart kids don’t need college. Look at Steve Jobs. Bill Gates. Today is ripe for high achievers with the drive to teach themselves how to excel in the areas where they’re passionate.
2. Get a college degree. At the least, it’ll make you more hireable and you’ll get paid more.

I can see where both sides are coming from. I lean more toward the first, though. I taught myself more than my professor did for at least two of my classes this semester.  They were technical classes and the Internet provided all the resources I needed to better understand the details of the classes. Students outsmarting the professor is quickly becoming a real issue. Though professors provide the valuable resources of wisdom, experience and advice, students are beginning to care less about that and more about efficiency.

And before long, students will wise up and stop paying thousands to be taught something they could learn on their own. (Though the fear of Camp 2 will keep enrollments heavy for the immediately foreseeable future.)

John Katzman over at TechCrunch provides an interesting take on how education will begin shifting.

He says we can expect more distance education, while physical universities will tend toward more specialization in the subjects for which they’re already known.

With this direction of education, we run into a few potential problems and opportunities. (Though, I quite agree with Katzman. It’s coming and there’s no stopping it.)

Life on life education: Ask any Biola student and they’ll tell you that the professors are what make their education stellar. As we tend toward learning via the Internet, we run a significant risk of losing practical application to our lives.  Our thought lives become isolated in the world wide web, and we forget to extrapolate that to real life.

Admittedly, the average college student certainly runs that risk as well. (Look at the Biola Bubble, am I right?!? I mean, come on kids, how can you not know about the Occupy movement?)

However, by physically being removed, we are given all the more reason to forget the corresponding physical implications of our knowledge. We end up either living dichotomized lives, or just quickly forgetting what we’ve learned altogether.

So what’s our solution to this? While there are many different solutions that get into the nitty gritty of how to make online education physically applicable,  I think the answer is found somewhere else.

This is the perfect place for The Church to step in. Over the past 20 years, as Christians have been stepping it up and once again becoming leaders in intellectual discussions throughout the world, the Church has been (slowly) catching up.

Now, it is more important than ever that the Church provide a place for the thinking Christian to grow under careful mentorship. (And I don’t just mean L’Abri or Bible study.) As the Christian ponders what he is learning, he needs a place to synthesize his practical knowledge with his soul-ish formation. And we need wiser, older Christians to come alongside us and walk us through that process in the real world, not through chatrooms.

A return to whole-person education: Now is the perfect time for universities to hone in on educating the whole person. As general education classes move toward online, in-person gen eds will have to stand out from among the crowd.

After all, a student may attend MIT for the stellar engineering program, but what’s to keep them from accomplishing all that general credit online through their community college (or even another excellent school with a better online focus?)

If universities want to make their general education programs worth attending, they’ll need smaller class sizes and information that integrates with all the student is learning.

The best solution seems to be a return to an Oxford-style method. As fewer people attend university, institutions can begin to afford a more detailed, analytical style of general education.

The one thing I value most about Torrey is the fact that I am being taught as a whole person. I’m being taught to think, not spoon-fed information. As students begin to really seize what’s available to them online, the thoughtful students will realize that they could google a timeline quickly. There should, among those who care, be a return to education that teaches about the broad concepts, thoughts and ideas that got us to where we are.

In this kind of education, the whole person must be educated. And it seems likely to me that more students will begin to crave that more than just head knowledge.

Practicing for years to come: Let’s be real, any kind of revolution takes years. We’ve seen that with how technology has re-shaped our culture, and no doubt, we’ll see it with the transformation of education over the next 10 years. Educators are finally starting to catch up to the tools they could be using. Give it a few more years, and whole institutions will have to deal with the ramifications of technology, in ways that are bigger than buying electronic chalkboards for each classroom.

For now, I’m going to get the best education I can — and then keep learning.

in praise of being human

I. love. being. a. person.

I really truly am deeply grateful that I am a person. I love that my fingers move easily. I love that my hair is long and crazy. I love that I get tired and wake up and respond well to heaps of caffeine.

Moreover, I love that I can feel — passion, empathy, sorrow — deeply.

And I just love that experiences help that. That they draw people closer to each other.

I love bonfires and beaches and hockey and ice rinks and dinners in cozy little houses.

I love the way my smile makes my face grow wrinkles (I can feel them), the way too much smoke makes my throat hurt — or was that from laughter? And I love smelling whiffs of bonfire in my hair as I lay down at night.

 

Suffice it to say, I had a phenomenal weekend.

why I don’t tumblr

Okay, so I’ve expressed my dislike of tumblr before. And here’s the thing. I don’t actually hate it. In fact, I find it absolutely fascinating. It’s this world of people (many of them hipsters, let’s be real) who are just looking about for beautiful things and posting them.

When I’m bored and craving numb, mindless beauty, I click over, often thinking “Ah, I’ll find a fun blog through this.” And yet, I never do. I find things like this.

INSPIRING QUOTE IN REALLY COOL FONT.

- some guy who was so humble he only had one name in all lowercase

Or a photo. SO many photos. Like the following:

Snowy, wintry wonderland that’s pure and white and has trees as the sun shines through at the perfect, almost-vintage angle.

Or, in keeping with the snow tradition:

Igloos that glow in the middle of nowhere. Slightly creepy, mostly dreamy. Warm glow.

Or, my personal favorite:

Girl in oversized sweater, in the snow, in the middle of nowhere, IN TIGHTS. She looks rather lost.

I’m down for these images that portray, among other things, a few of my favorites — coffee, books, cozy sweaters. By all means, take funky, vintage, artsy photos and post them all over the internet. More people should love these things.

I’m even supportive of (for the most part) people who post these things as dreams — who wouldn’t love to get married in a perfect knee-high wheat field filled with in-sync sparrows and then honeymoon in a zebra-infested igloo hotel? If photos help you dream of these things, awesome.

Even more so, I love the inspirational quotes. Any time words are passed on that are great, it will influence someone.

But here’s my problem.

tumblr, in all of it’s lowercase, un-voweled greatness, has cheapened the power of the image. We click through and skim down the zillions of photos posted. We take it in, appreciate it, and dismiss it in the matter of 3 seconds. (And that’s probably a generous assessment.)

There are so many breathtaking photos that are posted that receive many views, but few people take them into their souls.

Beyond that, though, tumblr gives us a place to hide. Emerson claims it’s far more important to actually create than to just imitate others’ creation. But through tumblr, I’m not fighting to produce my own artistic, cleverly shot photo. I’m not seizing that beautiful burst of inspiration and pounding out words on a keyboard. I’m copying and pasting into a collection those things that inspire me, but not contributing my own.

Yeah, that’s a generalization, and admittedly some do that … but they are few and far between.

Finally, it’s causing one of two things. All these photos of girls in oversized sweaters with perfectly bony wrists may indeed cause you to sip your own gorgeous latte while you read a book in an oversized victorian chair as the sun is setting. If so, good on ya.

Otherwise, it’s causing us (or at least me) to have times of wishful thinking, dreaming of those times and forgetting to find the beauty in our own lives.

What if I started taking photos of the things in my world? My overflowing laundry, that is (mercifully) clean, just not yet put away? My yarn on my desk from that knitting project I started last November (and may never finish)? My to-do lists on sticky notes, stained with coffee, and scattered throughout every crevice of my life? My journal that sits by my bed but I rarely have time to use? My dishes stacked in the sink, waiting to be washed?

It’s not nearly as romantic. It’s fast-paced, strung out and a little chaotic. It doesn’t give much time to dwell, but when it dwells is does so well. It is, though not traditional, a life well-lived.

But maybe, despite my normal-sized sweater and average-looking wrists, I can start viewing the world in a way that seeks to find tumblr-worthy beauty in everyday moments.

I want images that represent me to be images of loud laughter, long conversations, big hugs and so many books. (Not the perfect, vintage, well-shelved books, but dog-eared paperbacks full of notes strewn about because they are read so often and well.)

I want to be filling my soul with beauty in each and every moment. In tiny, everyday, surprising things. Not just big, artistic, obvious things.

And that, my friends, is why I refuse tumblr.