One of those days.

Today was one of those days. The whole expanse ahead of me, free for the taking, grasping, filling, experiencing, living —

and I sat, looked out the window, into the tea, ate another biscuit and twiddled my thumbs.

There are so many things to do, to create, but I forget to start any of them.

I’ve been sitting here, scrolling through a variety of sites, telling myself to close the computer, open the book, paint the canvas, knit the scarf, and yet here I am, dumbly reading about celebrity romances of the past, taking another buzzfeed quiz, telling myself just fifteen more minutes, just fifteen more minutes, just fifteen more minutes.

It’s been a whole day of fifteen minute increments and I haven’t done a single thing.

Even this post falls into the trap. What have I told you, if not the same thing over and over, altered slightly, but still dictated by commas, run on ideas, lists to better hone the sentiment?

I’m going to put on my slippers and get the mail.

You are going to fail.

As inevitable as spilling coffee on yourself before work,

as telling the woman at the concession stand to enjoy the movie too,

as dropping the overpriced mug you just bought on the hard tile floor,

as checking his instagram the day after you breakup,

as bleeding through the tampon,

as sleeping though the alarm,

as ruining the white shirt,

tripping on the crack

forgetting the name

deleting the draft

arriving late —

Yes. You are going to fail in these ways and much, much worse.

But here’s the catch, the redemptive loophole, the end left open for your own interpretation:

Your potential is more resilient than your failure.

Bend, stretch, bounce your soul  — beauty lingers there yet.

Breaking Up With School.

Dear School —

First off, is it alright if I call you that? Would you prefer something different? Perhaps University. Institutionalized Education. Backbreaking Judger of Merit Based Success.

What’s that? You’re not a being capable of thought-based response? Ironic, considering you demand so much of that from me. Oh, that’s just like you. Nevertheless, I’ll continue my letter to you — I want to air things out. Get them out in the open before we’re done.

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“So… How was Oxford?”

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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

“This is really great. You should enjoy it.”

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Port Meadow. 27 January 2015.

First off: how on earth is it already the end of second week?

I keep reminding myself that I still have 8 weeks here, but I know that it’s going by quickly (as all good things in life do), and that I will be so sorry to leave. It’s very easy for me to get caught up in the future–not necessarily worry for what will happen, but sadness for fading pleasures. It’s strange how even in my happiest, most contented phases of life, there is still a seed of doubt in my mind, whispering this too shall pass. Continue reading

The First Few Days

Dear Future Oxford Study Abroad Student, henceforth to be addressed as Fosas, I’m writing now to inform you a bit on the first few days of your stay in Oxford. Likely, your beginnings in this new place will not be exactly similar to mine, but I thought a bit of insight into my own journey could perhaps sooth your nerves. If not, I recommend some peppermint tea with a healthy dollop of honey, or perhaps the lighting of a lavender scented candle. (Both did superb wonders for me).

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Apprehension (with a dash of hope)

It’s weird to comprehend that in a matter of days, I will be moving to England. For months, “studying abroad” has functioned as a distant conversation topic to help me appear interesting at social events. People could ask if I was excited to go, and I could say yes, and they could say “you’re going to have so much fun,” and I could reply “Yeah, I can hardly believe it.” And I couldn’t. And I still hardly can. Continue reading