I’m sitting in my living room in front of the fire — it’s crackling, licking up small pockets of oxygen, grasping with every flame the opportunity of continued life. Continue reading
Written on 23 March 2015.
Written on 27 January 2015.
Please, don’t call me beautiful.
I’m sitting here and I’m in Azusa and it’s 10:06pm and I’m reading Huck Finn and I’m drinking tea out of a cracked cup and Keaton Henson’s “Sarah Minor” just came on Pandora and oh how I miss Oxford.
There is a tendency, when a news report of national or global interest comes to light, to begin pinning stories against one another. Continue reading
I got home a week ago, yesterday.
Almost six months ago, I sat down in my Southern Californian living room and wrote a blog post about leaving for Oxford. I was absolutely terrified; I had no idea what to expect — I had never been gone from my home for longer than a few weeks at a time, never travelled alone internationally before, never thrown myself into something so absolutely foreign (in more ways than one) to my life in California, at APU, as a film student.
It’s intentional on OPUS’s part to keep us in the dark before coming here, and while I can appreciate that in hindsight, when I was anxiously preparing for this experience, I was angry and nervous and not at all appreciative of the secrecy. Nevertheless, in that blog post, written so long ago, I vowed to throw myself into the void with an open mind.
Here’s to trusting the unknown to change my life in spectacular (or unspectacular) ways that will make Future Kristy shake her head and smile and say, “If only she knew the great things to come.”
I feel a lot of feelings when I read that back now. Oh, Past Kristy, if only you knew! Continue reading
I have a significant threshold for missing people. Continue reading