60 MPH Winds

60 MPH winds.  That is what is screeching through my bedroom windows (my beautiful, picture windows, larger that my armspan.  That are set in the wall of my second story room, on this three-story-plus-finished-basement colonial house.).  Whipping the trees all around campus into a frenzy.  Pounding into the speaker of my phone, so Mum asks if I am standing outside in the rain as I walk back from rehearsal.  It was 50 MPH winds earlier, tugging whisps of my hair from my neat bun.  Blowing against my bag-o-books and making it strain against my shoulder.  Driving autumn-gilded leaves and menacing clouds across the sky.

It's beautiful.  And loud.  And it feels so perfect tonight.  Because this is exactly how my life has been lately. . . gale force winds.  Everything blowing everywhere, and pressurepressurepressure.  Tonight I had rehearsal at 7.  And rehearsal at 7.  Two different choreographers, two different pieces, styles, and rehearsal locations. . . then I had rehearsal at 8, for a third somebody.  And rehearsal at 9. . .

Exams, tests, quizzes, journal entries, homework, reading, notes, notes, NOTES.  choreography, new choreography, dance journal.  Gym. Trainers.  Creating blogs, giving tours, maintaing websites, attending club meetings, sending club-and-business emails.  office work.  memorizing lines.

A whirlwind life.  But I like whirlwinds.  I like the music they make.  I suppose tonight could be described as having "howling winds."  Howling seems negative and frightening, though.  Though it is loud and tumultuous it's also natural, carry-you-away music.  And  I find it so intriguing, what a windy day does to people. . . who hunches their shoulders and tucks their head and scuttles along.  Who marches purposefully, scarf fluttering behind them, rain boots briskly chewing up sidewalk.  The ballerina's bun pulled piece-by-piece apart, until strands of hair tumble loose around her face.  The couples where one person walks slightly ahead, his body shielding hers as she presses to her side, neither of them cognizant of their positioning.

So to I find a melodic feel to this hasty, crazy life.  Rehearsal-to-rehearsal, meals hastily grabbed in between.  Showering while reviewing history dates, stretching with a script in my lap, always having my cell phone, id/room key, a pencil, and a highlighter before starting the day.  A few quite minutes, stolen in a corner of the kitchen as my roommate sleeps floors above, a phone held close to my ear, a stillness finally letting my tight shoulder lower.

For now I will dance in the wind.

Clark House, the Tour.

This is my housing for Sophomore year.  Can you believe it?  I've lived in three story converted houses every semester so far.  Man, adjusting to regular college housing will probably be tough!

The Front of My Home for Sophomore Year.

A shot of the side, from our drive way.

Right inside the front door.

Detail on the pillars

Some more detail on some more pillars

Living Room

Up the stairs . . .

Don't miss the window between levels!

As you enter the room, if you turn your head towards the left.

My side of the room

From the window towards the door.

My drawer + Pillows + Good luck kitty + Jewelry box + ihome +Bible

There are lots and lots and lots more pictures - like this one of our ceiling fan!

and of our kitchen, yard, wrap around porch, elegant trees, etc.  But I figure this is a good sample, yes?

Wait, You Want Me To Live Here?

                                                                                    Hi!
My original plan was to write this blog post as soon as I arrived on campus.  As in the very same night. As in I thought I could get my butt out the dang door on time, and then not hit major labor day traffic on the way, and simply proceed straight to my room with my things, only pausing to hug my wonderful CA.  And then when I got to my room, clearly I figured I would have exactly the same storage space as last year, with hopefully a real closet (unlike last year, when I had a "half-closet" which was also the support beam for the house.  I had 18 in. of closet.  Seriously).  Yeah. Right.

So as I'm sure you've now figured out, none of those beautiful things happened.  BUT.  But but but but I was only five minutes late.  And while the drawers are beautiful looking, they're evilly deceptively cruelly surprisingly small on the inside, the closet is huge.  I can walk into it.  It isn't a true walk-in closet, but I literally do not have enough dresses and nice blouses to fill it with.  All my sweaters, plus my reusable shopping bags, plus my exercise/thera bands fit on the wall mounted hooks.  Wow!  I am so lucky.

But what about the room?  You ask.  But what does it look like?  You wonder.  Can the house truly be as nice as it appeared last year?  You question.



Dear readers, no.  It is not as nice as it looks.  It is about four hundred times nicer.  My room is almost triple the size of my old dorm, and the walls are sunshine yellow.  There is a sealed up fireplace in my room, which means I have a mantel piece.  To go with my shiny brown hardwood floors, and ceiling fan, and ginormous windows.  Three of them, bigger than any windows I ever imagined a dorm could have.  They're gorgeous.  Have I used that word yet?!?! Gorgeous.  Gorgeous.  Gorgeous.

And my roommate is great!  We lived in the same house last year (which was also amazing, and not at all a building I should've even been aloud in as a freshmen!)  but we weren't really friends.  Circumstance through us together, and so far we're getting along great.  I hope it continues!

My next blog post will be all sorts of pictures!

Love you all, thank you for reading.  Please leave a comment!