but i realized some bigger dreams of mine (taylor swift @ raymond james stadium | 10/31/15)

last night, taylor swift started playing fifteen on an acoustic guitar and my heart leapt into my throat. you know those times when you feel all the tears and the years burning behind your eyes? that was me. eyes shining; singing along at the top of your lungs; remembering how you felt exactly this way, but now you know better. you're not fifteen anymore; not eighteen anymore; not twenty anymore. you made it to the other side, and it's a goddammed celebration.

but before then, and after then -

jumping to your feet when the stadium lights go out. the screaming reaching a fever pitch. taylor swift, a vision in a purple skirt and sparkly jacket and white ray-bans: it's been waiting for you. whipping off those sunglasses and flashing a million-dollar smile you swear is meant just for you. flashing colors illuminating every single person. standing there with lights in your eyes and a grin on your face like you're a little kid again. shouting break-up songs that feel so powerful it's like they're reaching back through time to say, look at me now. stomping and fist-pumping through bad blood and screaming that hey! 55,000 voices strong. watching this 25-year-old genius fairy princess CEO perform delightedly with a legend; watching her perform just as enthusiastically with a brand-new artist singing a brand-new song. talking to the audience and making you feel like she knows you, understands you, wants you to joyfully live your life. haters gonna hate hate hate, but who cares - dance it out, watch those fireworks burst, burn burn burn fabulously into the night. i buy it, i drink the kool-aid, but most of all i believe every word.

this has been the best year of my life. me too, taylor, me too.

i said shut up and dance with me

sometimes it's really weird how, say, a song from 2014 can remind you so acutely of a moment from 2008.

even the stars look lonesome sometimes

a long time ago someone told me that what i wrote reminded him of maya angelou. i had no idea how much of a compliment that was, and how unworthy i was of that comparison.

what a fantastic, wise, talented lady. rest in peace.

i got this feeling on a summer day

i haven't written about pensacola.

i haven't written about pensacola because i never thought i would be missing it. i never thought i'd look back on that year and a half with nostalgia, that i'd miss familiar hangouts and stupid silly nights and days that seemed insignificant at the time. i knew i'd miss some people, but not with the sharp pangs that are usually reserved for things like notre dame and london.

i haven't written about pensacola, because in my head it somehow feels like we haven't really left. leaving college and leaving london were final because we all left at once; the places couldn't be the same, even if we went back. but pensacola goes on without us; our friends are still there, business as usual, and we were the ones who were airlifted out and dropped here in the wide expanse of texas. sometimes it's hard to watch life go on without you.

i haven't written about pensacola because i never thought i'd sit on my couch longing for a night out on the one main street, or an overpriced sugary drink at a beach bar, or wanting one more float down the river (well, okay, i did think of that one).

i haven't written about pensacola because part of pensacola was really hard. part of pensacola was crying myself to sleep and feeling insecure about making friends and missing everyone and everything. but part of pensacola was also pulling myself out of that rut, with the help of jeff and old friends and new friends and family and music that felt like it was made for me at just the right time.

i haven't written about pensacola because a part of me wants to keep it close to my heart, and i fear that if i let it out that'll mean that it's really over, that i've left it behind for good.

i haven't written about pensacola because i haven't been able to find the words to say that a place i thought we'd just be passing through ended up being just as important as the ones i hold most dear.

that magic that we got nobody can touch

there's just something about those times when you see your friends again and everything about it is perfect, right down to everyone's little imperfections. there's just something about smiles and hugs and telling stories too quickly because you're afraid your time will run out before you know it. there's just something about crying from happiness at a friend's wedding because their love and joy makes your heart overflow. there's just something about glancing at another friend at your table through your tears, and seeing that she's sobbing too.

there's just something about friends who refuse to give up, who won't let something like distance or work or the million things that keep us busy come between us, no matter how long its been since we've talked.

sometimes i worry that our group will splinter but it's weekends like this that remind me that we have something that lasts.

on sunday afternoon as we drove through middle of nowhere, ohio, we sat in companionable sleepy silence as we listened to music and watched the fields pass us by. over the years, we've gotten further and further removed from the people we were when we were cramming for tests and laying sprawled on our hallway floor. but that weekend, and in that moment in the car, it felt like the two versions of ourselves were finally reconciling with each other. we can be both. we can love both. we can move on, and change for the better, but there's a part of us that will always be the same.

fob @ verizon wireless amphitheatre | 9/28/13

i want so badly to write down everything i remember, but at the same time i want to hold it tight to my chest and never let it go. last night was joy. pure, unadulterated, incandescent joy. i could keep putting corny adjectives before the already somewhat corny word "joy," but i'll hold myself back. the point is, i thought that last night was going to be emotional and that i would probably cry and that it would be a cathartic experience due to the fact that lot of those songs got me through some of the more difficult parts of my life. but instead of reflecting those harder times, the concert reflected the fact that i had gotten through, and that i had made it to the other side. at the risk of sounding even cornier, the whole damn thing was a celebration of growing up and triumph and being different and not caring what other people think and loving yourself and loving everything. it was joyous and beautiful and just so, so much fun.

believers never die. thank you, thank you, thank you.

i couldn't stop smiling all night.

come together, come apart

change is coming. it feels like summer just started and suddenly, we're in september, and the months have become weeks have become days. my life is always a countdown to something and the next one's already started. i always get emotional in the face of change; a mixture of sadness at leaving and anticipation of something new. but the best thing about change is that there's always something to look forward to, even if they getting there is rough. we only have a few weeks left and we're stuffing that time full of everything it can handle. every day i wake up to sun, every day the clouds roll in. sometimes the gray lingers and sometimes the skies open up and the rain dumps down on us. sometimes the lightning cracks so loud it makes us jump. i'm always on a precipice, you see; i'm always looking for that edge, 'cause life is boring when you've got flat empty space for miles. i always need to feel something, whether it's that knife in the chest or that rollercoaster stomach-jump. i'm reaching out my hands to the future and grabbing hold of whatever i can pull toward me. here we go again. bring it.