July

I wrote an essay in the middle of December for English. And, it was one that we had to type up and turn in in the place of an hour about a season. So, I just kinda, did.

And we got the papers back today. And, can I just tell you something?

I got an A on it. With one mark on the entire thing. So, in my head getting an A on it means it's good enough for the interwebs. So, below is the entire thing.

--

Winter Essay

To taste the leaves, to smell the cold, to feel the cider, to hear the snow, and see the death of that which surrounds us at the beginning of winter is something I wait for every year, all year. Winter is my favorite time of the year. I can't wait to shovel more snow than I ever should have to. I drink enough hot chocolate to gain more weight than that of the snow I have to shovel. The feeling of know Christmas is around the corner, and shortly thereafter, knowing a new year will come about.

I yearn for the simple solitary walks, late at night or early in the morning in December. It's far too cold for anyone else to be out and about. It's the kind of cod that you feel deep in your soul, as though the sun has forgotten to find you in the never ending game of hide-and-go-seek. So, I walk in silence, enjoying the lack of noise and life around me. For, even the trees have gone to rest, to wait for the sun to shine brighter. The parents are no longer robust enough to play in the snow for hours on end, and the kids are too tired out from doing just that the entire day before. Winter is quiet.

Though, if you go near any country roads, like the one I live on, right around sunset, it's near inevitable that you'll find smoke clogging your vision, and marshmallows beckoning you forward. They whisper, "Indulgence " commanding you step forward to the bone warming fire to attempt to not drop them into the dancing flames. Some flames are blue, others green. Oranges and yellows drop in to play amongst the red that control the logs. The color of the season is red because that's what Good Saint Nick and all the leaves wear. Winter is red.

Frequently, the snow falls late at night, and the first thing you wake up to is it. Laying down and covering the world. Immediately, it feels like a Thomas Kincaid portrait. A winter wonderland, or the North Pole. Snow becomes a symbol for imagination and rest. It's a downy filled blanket that you want to throw over your bed, and never lose it, or step on it, or spill anything on it. Winter is pristine.

In winter, school children wishing for snow and wearing their pajamas inside out and backwards, while jumping around their kitchens and dropping ice cubes down the toilet in futile attempts to make it snow hard enough for school to close, dominate the scene. Their sighs or dismay, giggles of delight or snores of high school kids as they fall back into their slumber are heard like a chorus of angels singing Christmas carols. And come the day school ends for the winter break ahead, they break forth into a constant chatter. Along with the bells of shops being opened and shut, or the bell ringers trying to do a little good in the world make for a most glorious song. Winter is joyful.

And as the angels sing, mothers and fathers, siblings and uncles begin to bake. Pies, cookies, brownies and cakes are made quicker than can be consumed. From the normal fruit cake to the decadent Chocolate on Chocolate cakes. Smores' are made in excess, and hot chocolate is consumed, not by the cup, but by the gallon. Winter is creamy.

And though not every one celebrates Christmas, most people still find family to reconvene with around December time. Maybe because so many people celebrate Christmas that those that don't, just get an extra holiday. A few extra weeks to spend with those they love the most. So many people travel, back to homelands, or to dream vacations. Winter is lovely.

And for all these reasons, I love winter. I love the taste of winter, the smel, the sight and the feeling. The bone chilling cold of the wind. The soul warming laughter of friends. The finger numbing hear of a fire. And the love we reacquire.

--

The end.
ARTIST: LUKE CONARD

Star Trek

Funny thing that happened to me in high school:

Every October is Homecoming. And on the Friday before the dance, we have a Homecoming Football game. That afternoon, is a pep rally. Everyone goes into the gym where the latest pop songs are played at deafening levels. You sit with your graduating class. The juniors and seniors on one side of the gym, the sophomores and freshmen on the other.

So, as my friends and I stood on the bleachers we watched the parade of fall sports teams, and the homecoming court. And then the dance team went out. The music started, and then the girls.

And, oh my God. They were excellent. I stood, slack jaw and mouth agape. At the end of the routine, the gym exploded into cheers. I looked at my friends and said, "I can't believe I dated the captain of the dance team."

To which a very good friend looked at me and said, "No. You got dumped by the captain of the dance team."

My friends are great. Just like, this past Sunday, Elizabeth was on her way to pick me up for church. She was ten minutes late, and she did call to let me know. But the funny thing she said was, "You matter so much that you don't."

Which, if you know Elizabeth that translates to: "I love you. That's why I took my
time straightening my hair."

ARTIST: MEEKAKITTY

Abby Never

Because I thought this was hilarious, I felt the need to tell you why I love my life. Again.

Story 1: As Elizabeth, Joshua, and myself were sitting in church this past Sunday morning, listening to Matt bring the message he started to talk about how some people only think about the fall of man, and the redemption. Completely missing out on the beauty of the creation and what's needed in the restoration.
"It's almost like if I were to give you a five hundred page book, told you to read it, but I took the first and last hundred pages out." -Matt.
"I would slap you. ...And then not read it." -Me.
*punch* -Elizabeth.

But, can you blame me? I mean after I started Reviews For You, I can't even imagine reading the middle three hundred pages of any book. E.V.E.R.

Story 2: And, because our exam schedule is completely out of whack, my global issues teacher didn't really have anything planned for us to do.

So, we all asked to play Scattegories.
We're all sixteen and older. [Don't judge. You know you wanna play it too.]

The letter was D, and the thing was an insect. One group said a Digger. [Like a digger ant, only they didn't know it existed. But, they sure were trying.] Mrs. J asked them to repeat themselves.
So they all said at once, Digger, rather loudly. And then, without missing a beat, the only black girl in the entire class, says, "What did you just call me?!"
Wonderful.

Ever so wonderful. I'm sure there are more instances of the funny, but I'm not entirely sure of that.

Wait, I lied.
Story 3: I was talking to Sean in Oral Comm, and I told him to remind me at the end of the month that I need to find out if I had a speech to give so I could do it before I left. He minorly freaked out and I couldn't figure out why.
"I didn't think you were leaving until after graduation..."
"I'm.... Oh, stupid." He thought I was moving at the end of February, when I'm in fact leaving in June.

I then had to explain that a friend of mine is graduating from Marine Corps boot camp, and I was going with my mother to watch him graduate.

Life.

ARTIST: MIKE LOMBARDO

Tales of Brave Ulysses

An open letter to my friends, classmates, church family, and anyone who may miss me:
Dear people,
I write this for clarity, and for posterity sake. I feel as if I should say this now, when my head is clear, and not clogged with the nostalgia that seems to happen to me around June time.
I am moving. I am not moving to "run away" from anyone/anything. I am not running from. I am running to. I know not if God has called me west, however, I go forth. I go onward and south. I go to discover the place that I will one day belong.

At 17, I know not the plans I should have, much less the ones The Great I Am has for me.
I go for potentially selfish reasons. I go to save money for myself, to be closer to my family.

And, because I have few things holding me here. What holds me to the great state of Virginia is graduation. Once that happens, in June, there is only one thing.



This wonderful girl that saved me. She is why I will come back.
And, it may seem like I don't care about the rest of the people I'm leaving. That couldn't be further from the truth. My life has changed more than anyone can ever know in the last four years I've lived here. Minor list:


I discovered a love of jazz.
And ALL CAPS.
I learned I'm pretty freaking beast at Sudoku.
I became a Nerdfighter.
I read a lot of books.
I learned people think I can write.
...So I started writing about books.
I went to my first big concert.
I became a Christian.
I watched as the first black president of the United States was inaugurated.
I cried over the things I heard out of the mouths of kids younger than me.
I busted my knee up a lot more.
I learned to throw a Frisbee.
I traveled outside of the country. Twice.
I ate more Chipotle than should be allowed.
I came out.
I was forced out.
I got a puppy.
I learned that someone I love had died each year I was in high school.
I forgot to tell my best friend I was moving.
I went four years with out moving. [Something of a record for me. No, I'm not kidding.]

I know that my life has changed. I know that it will continue to change no matter what it is I do. However, I'd rather initiate change. I'd like to think that, as I wonder west, I shall be grabbing the reign on the horse of my life, and taking it closer to a degree, a career, a home, and a life that I can live and be proud of.

That's all I want out of myself. But, I can not do it alone. Every person I have come in to contact in the last four year has greatly changed my outlook on life. And now, I ask that I may lean on you still. Though I may be a thousand miles away, [And, I'll forgive you for singing the Plain White T's under your breath/in your head.] I ask that I may be able to still call you friend, family, coworker. That I may be able to love you the same way.

And, I leave you in one hundred and fifty six day, [give or take.] but I miss you already.

With love, [and literary references galore.]
Kori.

"For west is where we all plan to go someday. It is where you go when the land gives out and the old field pines encroach. It is where you go when you get the letter saying flea, all is discovered. It is where you go when you look down at the blade in your hand and the blood on it. It is where you go when you are told you are a bubble on the tide of empire." Robert Penn Warren.

"here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
...
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)" - e.e. cummings.

ARTIST: CREAM

Hello Good Morning

If all I ever do is talk, what's talk worth?
See, with midterms coming up next week, I realize that I have less than six months until graduation. Which means, you know, that I'm moving.

The general and tentative plan is that after my mothers 40th birthday in June, that I'll move in with my grandmother who lives in a town near Houston. I do this for a few reasons.

1.] College is half as much cost-wise as it is here.
2.] As much as I love my family, and will miss them, this house is not the most conducive to my learning environment. If I have to go to the library to study, I have to make sure I'm home before five so I can baby sit. And, I can't be out past eight. Or, I can't have a computer in my room except on incredibly rare occasions, and I can't study or write around my family. Not conducive. And, yes, I know that's a weak reason, but it's enough of a reason that I want to succeed, and I doubt my own ability around my parents.
3.]I've never lived in one pace longer than two years. It's not that weird for me to want to move or be able to move after having been here for so long.

But, as I have no homework other than a presentation due in a week, I'm going to review some old stories, edit them and maybe transcribe them. Which will clean off my desk a bit. I mean, come on:



ARTIST: SICK OF SARAH