Sunset Lake, Mesa, Colorado

When the sun in shining through my open sunroof in the mid afternoon, while I'm driving the interstate through the trees faster than I should, changing gears in the car and in my mind; when my sunglasses are on and the radio is up and one of those songs begins to play

I don't change it.

And I know that this feeling is temporary. I know it may be infantile or purely sensory. I know that it supersedes rational thought. And even though I know, well, the sense of loss felt when this road ends

I don't change it.

Coffee Maker Free

In our eternal struggle against coffee maker dependence my household had risen above the rest. Today marks the end of our dependence. Both Mer and I use a French press and my other roommate uses a single cup brewing system. Mer is now ready to make cold brew coffee and drink it by the gallon. When questioned about the sanity of this endeavor she said,

           "Oh it will be funny. It will be really funny."

The jury is still out on the fourth roommate's coffee brewing methods but I suspect that she does not drink coffee. None-the-less I call this a triumph for the world of collegiate coffee dependence.

Solitude

I've always been afraid of the dark. It's silly and childish, but there I've admitted it. When I was really young I thought that I would never be able to live alone because I knew I would be too scared to get up for a drink of water. I had an illusion that everyone else had, somewhere along the line, gotten a really comprehensive monster combat training I missed. I would sit in my bed, covers pulled to my nose, with parched lips until morning light. Later I thought I could never live alone because I would get bored by myself and I wouldn't have an ounce of fun alone.

It turns out I was wrong on both accounts. I've been alone in my apartment, my roommates having not returned from the holiday break, for a week now. It has been a strangely enjoyable experience, despite my former reservations. I've been hiking and taking walks on the beach, reading, knitting and having an all around good time all by myself.

As my friends arrive back from their trips home and I tell them that I've already been here for a week I hear things akin to "Oh you poor thing." And I guess I just let them sympathize for me because it would be much easier, and would spare me more doubtful looks, than explaining how much fun it's been.