When I Grow Up I Wanna Be...
I lost my class ring when I was 17. Now, a thousand years later, it has returned to find me a completely different- and yet, the same- person.
Overcoming the Dreaded Writer's Block
Maybe if I couldn’t go over it, I could go around it? Surely it couldn’t be that long of a walk. All alone, I set off on the trek to find the edge of the Block with just my walking stick and my lack of thoughts (this is why I was over here after all). I kicked at a couple rocks as I trudged over the dismal landscape that was mostly gray and gloomy. Dirt and other sand-like material made up the terrain behind the Block and it perfectly reflected what every writer felt: self-doubting, unworthy, and lost.
When Ali, Casey, and I were in college down in central Illinois, we lived in this great place just a block off campus. It was situated at the top of a hill overlooking the town smack dab in the middle of Greek Row, snuggled between the Beta and SAE houses—a modest, three-bedroom house with a front porch and back patio, and yard that made it ideal for barbecues and other themed or not themed parties.