Utah has sucked me dry. Not only am I constantly thirsty and constantly reapplying lotion but it seems too, at least lately, that the ink of my pen on the pages of my journal is as sparse as rain in the Atacama dessert. My thoughts are scrambled and the right words elude me, which, for me at least, is a rare phenomenon.
College seems like such an ordinary part of life that I feel as though I am left with little subject matter.
Or perhaps the problem is that when there is something extraordinary, I just don't have words to describe it.
I'm just clean out of words. And so I'm left with the impossible task of writing what there are no words for.
There are few words to describe goodness besides perhaps good, but that's repetitive.
Similarly, there are few words to describe the way I felt on Friday night. I came home and turned on Taylor Swift, and even she fell short - but I sang my heart out anyway. I was packed full of that uncontainable joy that that seems bent on declaring to the world -- or, in my case, to the white walls of my dorm room and to my only audience, Lorrence and Fish, my two stuffed animals -- how incredibly happy you are. It was ten thirty or so; most nights I'd be getting ready for bed, but getting me to sleep that night was about as likely as getting a toddler to put away his toys after Christmas.
Friday night was my "date" with Tyler.
Of course, having panned to do my laundry on Saturday, I was left with nothing but a couple t-shirts, but my sister came to the rescue. She loaned me a shirt and some earrings, and so, feeling pretty darn cute in a striped pink and white shirt, dark blue jeans with faded knees, my hair having formed itself into perfect little ringlets to partially cover my pearl earrings that in technicality didn't match, I stood outside my apartment under the "sketchy lamppost" and waited for Tyler.
We walked up to the on-campus movie theater because neither of us had cars (though I prefer walking anyway) and talked the whole way.
It was my first time seeing Inside Out and I loved it. What a cute show!
After the movie, we went and got ice-cream, and upon my insisting, he let me pay. After all, he's already payed for our date next week to the dance concert. And, besides, ice cream was my idea.
We talked and ate our ice-cream as we meandered through campus and back to our apartments.
Which brings us back to where we started, with me dancing with my stuffed animals as I cleaned my room and jammed out to Taylor Swift's "Love Story", "Our Song" and "You Belong With Me."
When my roommates got home I was still too wound up to fall asleep so I joined them for a game of Apples to Apples.
Part way through, exhaustion hit me and so I switched places with my roommate, Katreena, who had come home more recently and had taken residence on the couch to watch.
It was not a quiet game, and yet, the next thing I knew, it was well past midnight and Calli was waking me.
"I was going to let you sleep, but I didn't think you'd want to sleep in your clothes," she said, and offered me a hand up.
When I told my mom, she said, "You have good roommates." And she's right.
I love to go for runs at night. One night, as I was headed out the door, sweet Calli asked where I was headed.
"Just for a run," I told her.
She proceeded to inform me that Provo really isn't as safe as one would think.
"Would you like me to tell you when I'll be back?" I asked her.
She would. And so now, whenever I go on a night run, Calli knows when I'll be home.
And while there are some nights I regret being bound by my watch, it means a lot to know someone cares.
I really have been blessed. And, of course, it doesn't stop there.
Andrea seems to be the one who keeps it clean around here and though it may be done more out of annoyance than love, I like to believe it's the latter.
And I shan't forget when I came into the kitchen one Saturday morning to find her and her boyfriend, Tim, eating French Toast, Bacon, Strawberries, and Oranges.
"I don't think I can finish mine," Tim says, speaking of the two pieces of French Toast on his plate which I have no doubt he could have finished. "Grab a plate, Brooke."
"I don't think I can finish mine either," Andrea adds, dishing a piece from her plate along with the one from Tim.
Tim scrapes his last piece of bacon onto my plate along with some oranges and Andrea dishes me some strawberries. It was the best breakfast I'd had since leaving home.
Then there's Rachel Anderson who is sweet enough to play Nertz with me even though I always win, Alison who gives me rides to the grocery store, and Katreena who is so kind to slip in quietly when she comes in late every night even though she knows how hard it is to wake me.
There's Rachel from my Mandarin class who took the time to explain all of Marvel and the Avengers because she either pitied my ignorance or couldn't believe I could live without her number one obsession. I didn't so much care about them because I knew I'd never watch the movies, but the fact that she was the first to, upon hearing that I knew nothing of them, actually take the full hour to explain it to me, says something.
There's Great Uncle Allen and his family who invite me over for dinner on Sunday nights and there are Kylie and Josh who invite me over to make cookies and save me when I don't have enough quarters to finish my laundry.
Utah may have sucked me dry, but the people here are overflowing with goodness, and I've been blessed enough to take a drink. There are few words to describe goodness and there are few words to describe this past week. It's been crazy, it's been hard, it's been fun, and all-around, I'd say it's been pretty darn good.
Candidly,
Cookie
