Every once in a while, I'll be sitting there. Contemplating life. Dreading the three papers I should be writing (what?). Reminiscing. Whatever.

And it'll just hit me. The urge, nay the NEED to be somewhere else. To "hop" in my car (I've never understood that phrase. Who actually hops in their car? It would be silly.), and to drive for as long as my empty pockets and dwindling gas tank will take me. To breath different air, to walk different streets. Oh, wouldn't it be loverly?

Granted, in these hypotheticals, I never actually run out of gas or money.

I suppose that's why in all my google search histories, you'll find various schools around the nation. I'm chafing here in Columbia, and for no good reason. I've got it good. But I can't help but think that I could have it great somewhere else.

Silly Katie.

Does this ever happen to anyone else? Surely I'm not alone.

There's a folk festival in Winnipeg with Punch Brothers, Iron & Wine, and Ani DiFranco, just to name a few.

I can't believe I'm missing it.





For how much I have to do, I feel as though I'm never doing anything. Know the feeling?

I miss you. Every last one of you.

I’m curious to know when nighttime became scary. How can such a beautiful thing be scary? It’s just one great big shadow, but it has to represent all sorts of evil. I resent that. I like night.

Night is fireflies wizzing past open car windows. Watching the owls and the bats fly under the street lights. Blossoms loosening and releasing their fragrance into the cool air. Stars competing for darkness with the city lights. Night is peaceful, but hardly tranquil.

I also resent that as a young female, my enjoyment of night is highly restricted. Tonight, I was aching to be outside. To drive out into the boondocks and sit in a field to watch the moon drag across the night sky, and to listen to the sounds of night (or the music of the night…).

But I can’t. And I’m bitter.

A more substantial entry may or may not come soon.