The 15th Annual Father Daughter Ball.

I returned to California the day before classes started, and I did so for one very specific reason: the 15th annual Father Daughter Ball.

You see, 15 years ago, a few ladies decided to plan this ball, held at a local high school. My dad took my sister and I to it. I was four years old at the time. My sister was seven. And now here we are now, nineteen and twenty-two, and we’re still dancing with our dad. The event grew rapidly each year, and it’s now held at a much larger venue. But even with each change along the way, we never missed a dance.

I wish I had some of the photos from years past, but they’re all at home. Looking back, some of our dresses were ridiculous. Some years we even matched. Then when we were in high school, we wore our prom dresses.

A lot of the dads and daughters we used to go to the event with stopped going years ago. I think some of the daughters got “too cool” to dance with their dads. But Liz and I never did. Honestly, our dad is the cool one.

Each year, we thoroughly enjoy our time there. This year was no exception. The night begins with a nice dinner, followed by a few hours of dancing. Normally, it has been our tradition to go to Perkin’s to eat after the dance. Unfortunately, because I still had packing to do and would be waking up at 5 am the next morning, we opted not to do so.

That didn’t stop us from dancing the night away, though. They always play some classic songs like “Walking on Sunshine,” along with some slow ones such as “Butterfly Kisses.” This year, they played “Whip My Hair.” Needless to say, Liz and I did just that. It was so much fun. She and I always dance around like crazy, and my dad follows suit. We can act like complete hooligans, and it doesn’t seem to bother him. Other dads and daughters often look, point, and laugh at us. They’re obviously jealous of our moves.

One of my favorite parts of the night is all of the crazy pictures we take. At the end of the night, I always set up my tripod and use remote to take all kinds of photos of us. My dad goes along with whatever ridiculous idea that Liz and I have for a picture. It’s wonderful. Please enjoy some of my favorites from the night:

The classic sign.

We laughed so hard when this was taken. This is one of my favorites.

Nothing like the classic shoe picture.

We had Cold Stone for dessert!

The program marking our 15th year.

Fancy centerpieces.

My sister loves doing crossword puzzles.

These two little girls just make me smile.

We were dancing up a storm.

We have to take at least one nice one.

What a stud.

Another favorite.

Sisters - Liv and Liz.

Fish faces with a fish eye.

Back to the land of sunshine and palm trees.

I’m currently sitting in the Minneapolis airport, waiting to board my flight. I’ve spent some time simply looking around at the other people. I wish I had the time to talk to everyone here, but for now I’ll have to be satisfied with observing.

This morning, I got at 5 am, and my whole family headed out the door just after 6:15 am. It’s about a two and a half hour drive to the Twin Cities. Despite the small amount of sleep I’d gotten during the night, I had trouble falling asleep. Anxiety always plagues me when I travel. It’s not fun. I’m already closer to my destination, though, so I’m feeling slightly better.

I hardly know how to explain how I’m feeling right now. It’s strange what happens in six weeks. I cannot believe that it’s already gone. I’m incredibly excited to get back to Biola, but Minnesota is such a part of who I am, it feels funny to be leaving again. I thought it would be easier since I’ve already done so once before. What’s weirdest for me is that we’re in the dead of winter right now, but once I’m back again it will nearly be summer. What a change.

|| LATER ||

I apologize for the break in writing, but they called for me to board before I finished, and things have been a whirlwind since then.

My flight from Minneapolis to Phoenix was not quite three hours long. I was pretty low on energy, so when they served drinks and snacks, I watched an episode of a TV show on my ipod.

My lovely tray table.

I read a little bit, but sleep deprivation was starting to set-in. Exhaustion began to overtake me, and I let it. I took out my computer for a little bit toward the end of the flight, and I edited pictures from the Father Daughter Ball from the night before. But I’ll get to that story in my next post.

Once in Phoenix, I made my way to my new gate, purchasing gatorade and trail mix along the way. I found a seat next to an outlet, and finished editing my photos. Soon enough, I boarded my plane to Ontario. I spent the hour in the air resting and listening to music. And I mean really listening to it.

Usually I’m doing something else while I’m listening to music, but this time I just listened. I soaked in every word, the rises and falls, and absorbed each note. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I was listening to Laura Marling, who has recently become a favorite of mine. I’m really selective about female singers, but I have become sucked into her music. She plays with Mumford & Sons a lot—who just so happen to be my favorite band.

Once I was in California, I was relieved. Traveling stresses me out. I headed to the baggage claim, and waited for my two ridiculously packed bags. I basically just had to look for the bags that looked like they were about to burst at the seams.

I called my friend Andrew, who was picking me up, to see where he was. When he pulled up, we loaded my bags in his car and headed for campus. Andrew is from Minnesota, too, so it was really fun to talk with him about being back there.

When we finally got back to campus, I made my way to my room, and lost my luggage. The first person I went to see was Sarah. We hugged for a solid minute or so. I was so happy to see her. After we chatted, I went back to my room and started unpacking right away. I knew that if I didn’t tackle the task, I wouldn’t want to do it anytime soon. I spent the rest of the evening have all kinds of wonderful reunions, and there were plenty of hugs to go around. It was wonderful.

Today was the first day of classes, though. I had two classes, and they went pretty smoothly. I experienced more beautiful reunions, which brought me so much joy. The sun was shining and campus was buzzing with people. I couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. Despite my exhaustion, I am thrilled to be back.

Beverly.

I spent some time in the doctor’s office today. I was at the newest clinic building in downtown Duluth. When I first walked in, my eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the never-ending windows that overlook Lake Superior. My ears were filled with the gentle hum of conversation, and I noticed a few people enjoying coffee. The scene was peaceful, in a way.

Radiology was a different story, however. Although the waiting room was not far from the main entrance, conversation had died away. My eyes scanned the silent room when we walked in, and the eyes of a few people looked up and met mine. I wasn’t sure what to make of this area. After checking in, we found seats in the middle of the room.

I took my latest C.S. Lewis read out of my purse, but I didn’t open it right away. Instead, I continued to look around. A little old woman who I had noticed in my initial scan caught my eye again. This time, I looked closer.

She was hunkered over in a wheelchair, barely moving. In a chair next to her sat an older man who I can only assume was her husband. The woman wore pajama pants striped in multiple shades of blue and a matching top. On her lap sat an ice cream bucket with a plastic lining. I instantly realized its use and silently hoped I wouldn’t have to witness it.

The feature that caught my eye the most, though, was the look on her face. Distress spread across it, and her husband wore an expression to match. My heart broke a little bit.

Doing my best to focus, I began to read my book, occasionally glancing up at the couple. At one point, her husband got up and walked to the desk. A minute later, the receptionist came out and spread a blanket across the woman. She pulled the blanket up close to her chest. She must have had an awful case of the chills. I pulled my head back down and in to the pages of my book, after saying a prayer for her.

“Beverly!” a woman’s voice announced. My eyes shot up in natural response. The little old woman raised her hand, and this other woman came out to wheel her to the back. Beverly’s husband now sat alone.

A short time later, he took a phone call. His expression perked up during it. I caught bits and pieces of what he was saying. He told the person on the phone that they were there to find out why Beverly was sick. I wondered what was wrong.

Beverly was eventually wheeled back out to her husband, looking similar to when she’d left. Her husband told her about the phone called, his mood seeming to have improved because of it. He then stood up, grasped the back of her wheelchair, and wheeled her out. Just like that, they were gone.

I wonder if they were able to learn why Beverly was sick, or if they’ll find that out at all. I’m not entirely sure why, but her face has stuck in my mind. I wonder about her story and the things she’s experienced in her lifetime. I wonder if she knows the Lord.

Perhaps, for me, Beverly was simply a reminder. A reminder that there are a lot of sick people, everywhere you go. A reminder that all kinds of people are waiting for some type of news. A reminder that there is an entire world in need—and I want to be Christ’s hands and feet throughout it.

Mermaid hair and picture frames.

The other day I begged my brother to come outside to take pictures with me. After a little bit of guilt-tripping, he finally agreed to come with me. He's actually gotten pretty good with my camera, and the first three pictures were taken by him.

Sarah refers to my hair either as a mane or mermaid hair. I guess this is why.

Isaac, the brother.

He's actually not that much taller than me. I'm leaning down. I promise.

My classic picture frame.

Boy On A Bike.

As I mentioned in my last post, I went to see Gentry’s band play at The Beat in Uptown while I was in the cities.

Formerly known as Surprise Surprise, they are now Boy On A Bike. Don’t be deceived, though—it’s actually two boys and neither of them are on bicycles. That would be quite the sight, however. These are the two guys—Gentry and Zach:

After having shot photos of The Royal Engine Company (which can be found here), I had better knowledge of what would work best. I always feel badly about getting in people’s way, but Gentry told me not to worry about it, so I tried not to. I was able to stay out of their way and get some good shots, though.

This was the first time I’d seen the two of them perform, and I really enjoyed it. Their passion for music is incredibly evident when they’re playing. Not to mention, they sure are talented.

I encourage you to check out their music. They have the songs from their EP on their myspace, which is also available on iTunes (under the name Surprise Surprise). Oh and hey, enjoy these photos:

 

 

A Twin Cities Extravaganza.

This last week I spent four days in the Twin Cities. For those non-Minnesotans, the Twin Cities is simply the Minneapolis/St. Paul metro area. It’s about a two hour drive south of where I live. I was planning on meeting up with my friend Charlie (from Biola), as he lives two hours southeast of the cities. We left our plans pretty open; I was also going to be visiting some of my other friends that either live or go to school in the area. 

I left my house at noon on Wednesday, heading south. It was a nice, sunny day. Unfortunately, I forgot to grab a pair of sunglasses. Big mistake. It’s almost ridiculous how bright it is when the sun reflects off of snow. Luckily, it got to be manageable after the first hour. I listened to my favorite tunes and soaked in the scenery. I even got to talk with my friend Danae, whom I hadn’t gotten to talk with in months. Oh, how I miss her.

Once I got to the cities, I went to a Caribou Coffee near Northwestern College (NWC). My sister is student teaching this semester, so I wouldn’t be able to see her until later. Shortly after arriving there, I got a call from Charlie that he was at NWC. We met up there, and I realized something kind of funny. Although we both live in Minnesota, Biola/California is the only context in which I know him. I met his friend, Ryan, with whom he would be staying. We also got to see our friend, James, who transferred from Biola to NWC this semester. 

All of us, plus a couple of others, went to Famous Dave’s to eat, and my sister met us there. After that, Liz and I did a little bit of shopping, and then headed back to her place. She had some work to do on a lesson plan, so I just relaxed.

The next morning, Liz left really, because has a somewhat lengthy commute. I, on the other hand, took my time getting ready for the day. I went to Caribou Coffee again, and spent some time doing this and that on my computer. Charlie went to chapel with Ryan, and then met me at Caribou. We skyped with our friends Madeline and Mackenzie—which was spotty at best due to the poor wi-fi. Charlie and I tried to leave Sarah a video message, but our seven-minute video wouldn’t post. We were pretty bummed. 

I left Caribou around noon and went to pick up my friend, Laura, because we had lunch plans. Laura and I met at Girls State—a week-long government program—the summer before our senior year. She’s from in St. Paul and now attends King’s College in NYC. We headed to Café Latte, one of my favorite places. We ate delicious soup and talked about our college experiences on opposite sides of the country. We hadn’t seen each other in over a year, so it was a lot of fun to be able to catch up. 

After I dropped her off at home, I headed back to NWC. I met up with Charlie there, and we hung out for a little bit. I had been wanting to visit my friends at North Central University (NCU) in Minneapolis, and since Charlie and I didn’t have any other plans, we decided to do so. It wasn’t too far of a drive, and the roads weren’t really that bad. My friend, Hope, met us at the door. Hope and I went to different schools over the years, but we grew up in the same church, so we’ve basically been friends our entire lives. She showed me her dorm, gave Charlie and I a little tour of NCU, and then we met up with my friend Taylor. Taylor is from a small town west of the Twin Cities, and our churches attend the same Bible camp in northern Minnesota every summer. I hadn’t seen him since this last summer, when we were both counselors at senior high camp.

The four of us hung out in the lobby of one of the dorm buildings and just chatted it up. It was nice to talk with Hope and Taylor and get to hear about NCU. Hope asked Charlie and I about Biola, which I love getting to talk about. Far too soon, Charlie and I had to hit the road. We stopped to pick up some dinner, and then headed back to NWC. Once there, we met up with Ryan and his friend Lauren, as they would be giving us a crash-course in swing dancing. Yes, we would be going swing dancing that night. Ryan is really good, so he taught us some basic steps—enough for us to get by.

I went back to Liz’s place for a little bit before heading back to NWC to meet up with everyone going swing dancing. We then headed to Social Dance Studio in Minneapolis. The two rooms were filled with all kinds of people—some dressed casually and others dressed-up. Some people that could have been pros, along with plenty of beginners. I had a great time attempting to swing dance, as well as watching everyone else. It made me want to keep at it, too. It was a great night.

Friday was Charlie’s last day in the cities. I went to praise chapel at NWC and then met up with Charlie. We headed to Caribou and made a new eight-minute video for Sarah. After getting some coffee, he hit the road around noon. 

Shortly after he left, Gentry met me there. I hadn’t seen him in nearly a year and a half, so I was really looking forward to getting together with him. He had suggested we go to Mickey’s Diner in St. Paul, so we got in his car and headed that way. For those of you who don’t know, parts of The Mighty Ducks—all three of them, I believe—were filmed there.

Mickey's Diner in downtown St. Paul.

It was a funky little diner with good food. Gentry and I both got burgers and talked about all kinds of random things. After being separated by seventeen months and over 2000 miles, I loved getting to catch up. When you move far away, it means a lot when people take the time to get together with you.

Gentry dropped me off back at Caribou, and I hung out there for a few hours until Liz met me. Before heading back to her place, I stopped to fill the tank of my mom’s car. That was the first time I had pumped gas in five months. A ridiculous amount of money later, I decided that I really didn’t miss it—especially because there was snow blowing everywhere.

Back at her place, we hung out for a little bit, and then prepared to leave again. Gentry was playing a show in Uptown that night, and Liz had been planning on visiting her friends in Uptown. Perfect. Better yet, we learned that the coffeehouse where Gentry would be playing was less than half a mile from her friends’ house. We picked up Taylor from NCU on the way there, and Liz dropped us off at The Beat. Taylor and I listened to Gentry’s band, Boy On A Bike, play their set, and I shot a bunch of pictures. For organizational purposes, I will be creating a separate post with some of those pictures.

After the show, Liz picked us back up and we dropped Taylor off at NCU. Snow had been falling all evening, and the roads weren’t in great shape, so Liz and I took our time heading back to her place. I shot some pictures as we drove.

These ridiculous birds were everywhere.

Traffic light bokeh.

Liz slept in Saturday morning because she’d been getting up before 5 am the past few days, so I just hung out. When she got up, we went and had pancakes at her friend’s apartment down the hall. The rest of the afternoon was spent hanging out and watching a movie. I didn’t want to drive home in the dark, so I headed north after that. 

My drive home was similar to my drive down—good music and plenty of trees to see. I love birch trees—I really miss them while I’m in California.

Highway 61 Revisited.

I thought about all the fun I’d had in the cities and all the people I’d seen. As I was nearing home, the sun was setting out my driver’s side window. It was a photo-finish to four amazing days. 

Sunset over the snow.

Snowy drives at 5 am.

Waking up at 4:45 am is always interesting. I don’t care what time you went to bed the night before—it’s still early.

I had a very specific purpose for waking up that early, though. I would be going with my mom and grandma to the airport. I, however, would not be going any farther than that. Rather, they were heading to Florida for my aunt’s birthday. They were flying out of the Duluth airport, which is about a 25 minute drive from my house. My mom would drive there, and I would drive her car home.

When my alarm so kindly went off that morning, I rolled out of bed and grabbed socks and a sweatshirt. Now, don’t judge too much—I was already in sweatpants and would be heading back to bed once I got home. I didn’t find it necessary to change.

My mom had been up since 4 am, so she was all set to go. I pulled on my coat and boats, and we headed out the door. My grandma lives nearby, so we picked her up and hit the road.

That good old Minnesota weather decided it would get in our way, though. It was snowing, and the roads weren’t in great shape. My mom took a back way to the airport and drove well under the speed limit. The drive took longer than normal, but we got there safely.

I said goodbye to my mom and grandma, and my mom instructed me on the route that she wanted me to take home. Hoping that the roads would be the clearest, she told me to head through downtown Duluth and to the interstate. That meant I would be driving down the hill, which I was a little nervous about.

I plugged in my ipod, and selected my most recent playlist. I was going to enjoy my drive. I was wildly alert for the time of morning, so that didn’t worry me. I find that my awareness instantly heightens when I’m behind the wheel. If for some reason I even felt the smallest ounce of sleep, I already had someone in mind to call.

It was a funny thing driving through Duluth at 5 am. I drove past the mall and surrounding area. Everything was lit up, but it was as dead as ever. There was something oddly peaceful about it. Even though the roads weren’t great, there were only a few other cars to compete with. I headed down the hill without a hitch, and got to take in the lights over the lake.

Once I got onto the interstate, I realized something: I really enjoyed the drive. I enjoyed the stillness—the emptiness.

The traffic started to pick up as time went on—people heading into work. I only saw one car in the ditch, though. Everyone was moving pretty slowly.

Once back home, I sat on the couch for a little bit, drove my brother to school, and headed back to bed.

It snowed lightly for most of the day. Fresh snow is the other thing that brings stillness to an area. I couldn’t resist; I headed outside and took some pictures.

Oh, to be in Minnesota.

Snowflakes in my hair bring me joy.

The Royal Engine Company.

On Thursday the 6th, The Royal Engine Company played at Beaner’s Central Coffeehouse in Duluth. 

The band is from Minneapolis, and my sister is good friends with them. The band is composed of three guys--Micah, Aaron, and Zak: 

This was their first performance outside of the Twin Cities, and it was their Duluth CD release. That day, a CD review was written by John Ziegler and published in the Duluth New Tribune. The review was as follows:

CD review: Royal Engine Company’s 'Original Works' draws on many musical styles

The Royal Engine Company came together in a college dorm jam session. 

Zak Stelter borrowed a banjo and was joined by Micah Patchin, and then by Micah’s cousin Aaron Bristow, as the foundations for their folk rock trio were laid.

The group retains the enthusiasm of kids just having fun making music together and blends that with the sophistication that comes from increased technical expertise.  

Bassist Bristow acknowledged of the group “there’s nowhere we can hide. There are no synths and no distortion. What our fingers are doing, that’s what’s going to come out.” By their own description, what does come out might best be imagined as “vaudevillian folk.” It’s a sound that draws on traditional folk, bluegrass, jug bands, skiffle and even the ’60s British folk sound of Pentangle and Sandy Denny.  

The REC’s new disc, “Original Works of Fiction,” begins with a little accordion-backed prologue with a barker introducing the group a la the Beatles “Sgt. Pepper.”

The acoustic guitar strums a raucous rhythm pattern opening “A Place To Call Home” in a tale of working hard and trying to get to the promised land. While the banjo clanks out volley after volley of notes that pump the tune along, there are some celestial vocal harmonies, sloshy interludes between verses, a pungent harp solo, and a blistering racehorse ending that would put even the most ardent bluegrass ensembles to shame.

Banjo lines usher in “They Are Thick As Thieves” with an ominously sinister vibe, while accordion hovers in the air providing a stylish noir shading. The REC has an almost cinematic feel for shifts in rhythm, tempo and orchestration. From the hushed quality of a single instrumental element (like a lightly picked acoustic guitar) to expansive swelling vocal harmonies, “Original Works of Fiction” sounds like it could be the backdrop to an upcoming Jim Jarmish film.  

“In Sight of a New Dawn” recalls Seals & Crofts and their gentle “Summer Breeze” ’70s style of acoustic pop-rock. The guitar’s lovely arpeggiated chordal intro gives you the feeling of majestically sitting on a cottony tuft. The text centers on the beauties of life memory and sunsets at the end of day.  

Aaron Bristow said of the Royal Engine Company “we’re noble gentlemen with a little oil and dirt on our faces. We’re artists who shovel coal.” The REC is indeed a blue-collar little trio who cover a fair degree of musical acreage and who revel in the bucolic tranquility of life at its finest. 

They come to town this weekend for the Duluth CD release of “Original Works of Fiction.” Check them out.

 My friend Derek and I met up with my sister and her friend at the show. I ended up shooting photos almost the entire time. Despite some difficulty, I managed to get some shots that I really liked.

I don’t know if you’ll be able to tell from the photos, but these three guys made use of a banjo, acoustic bass, acoustic guitar, mandolin, tambourine, high hat, bass drum, harmonica and accordion. That's right. It was rather impressive. I encourage you to check out their myspace or facebook. Their album, “Original Works of Fiction" is available on iTunes. 

Here are a few more photos from that night:

Caribou Coffee... enough said.

What a beautiful morning.

This morning I woke up at 7 am. That’s before the sun rises, for those of you who are perpetually late sleepers. “Yeah, so what?” you may ask. Well you see, this morning was the first morning I’ve gotten up before the sun has risen since I’ve been home. That’s two weeks, folks. To some of you that sounds rather lazy, but please, allow me to explain.

In high school, I woke up at 6 am every morning, no matter what time I had gone to bed. Granted, that usually meant that I got five to six hours asleep each night. Toward the end of my senior year, it was four to five. But that’s beside the point. After four months of countless nights of only three hours of sleep and an afternoon nap, it takes its toll on your body. Exhaustion sets in like mad crazy. Or, in my case, you get back to Minnesota and instantly become horribly sick.

So now that I’m home, I have decided to let my body rest. That means no setting alarms, except for church.  (However, I did manage to sleep through my alarm for church, which is very unusual for me, and my dad had to wake me up). That means letting myself sleep until I wake up. Luckily, my parents have been very gracious with me regarding this, even the days when I slept until nearly noon. This cycle was largely due to the fact that for the first week or so I had trouble sleeping at night. I would try to go to bed, and then just lay there wide awake. Apparently it took my body longer to adjust to the central time zone than I thought it would. I’m mostly adjusted now, though. Instead, I just get really exhausted in the evening and want to take a nap. I’m working on that.

But back to the start of my morning… I rolled out of bed at around 7:10 am. I made my way downstairs to make myself some breakfast. My dad was just getting ready to leave for work, and my brother was rushing to get a ride with him to school.

After they had left and my stomach was satisfied, I headed back upstairs to get ready for the day. Today, I was going to be heading into Duluth with my mom. She has Bible study every Tuesday morning, and she was going to drop me off at Caribou Coffee and then pick me up when she was done. I packed up my camera and computer, and we headed out the door just after 8:30 am. The sun was still low in the sky, and the temperature had made its way to a couple degrees above zero. My mom and I chatted sporadically, but also allowed time to enjoy the silence of the still morning.

She dropped me off at Caribou Coffee in Canal Park, which is my favorite one. For my California friends (and others) who have no idea what I mean by “Caribou Coffee” or “Canal Park,” please allow me to explain. Caribou Coffee is a lot like Starbucks… Except better. I know that for some people that’s practically a sin to say, but it’s true. The logo is a caribou, naturally, and the entire shop is rustic and definitely falls into the “North Woods” category. It’s beautiful.

Canal Park is an old warehouse district next to Lake Superior. It is filled with quaint shops, restaurants, cafés, and hotels. The Aerial Lift Bridge connects it to Park Point, a beautiful sandbar from where people go swimming in the lake. On the lake side of Canal Park is the Lakewalk, a boardwalk that stretches from the lighthouse next to the lift bridge all the way to Leif Ericson Park and the Rose Garden. If you ever come to Duluth, and I highly recommend that you do, Canal Park is a must.

So that’s where my mom dropped me off: the Caribou Coffee in Canal Park. Hopefully that statement makes more sense to some of you now. Once inside, I waited in line a couple of minutes and ordered my white mocha. As the lady handed me back my debit card, she commented that she liked my scarf. I instantly smiled and thanked her. Not only do I love compliments, but that scarf is my favorite. I bought it in Reno, Nevada a couple of Christmases ago when I was there visiting family. I always wear it with my winter coat. For those of you who know me from California and thus have never seen my wearing my winter coat, this is the scarf:

This scarf is near and dear to my heart.

After I picked up my drink, I headed to my favorite spot. You see, part of the reason that this Caribou is my favorite is because it contains a little loft. You head around the corner and up the stairs, ending up right above the kitchen area. The loft is sprinkled with two three-person tables, a short couch, a coffee table, and two leather chairs with an end table between them.

I got out my computer and sunk into one of the leather chairs. Setting my mocha on the table next to me, I was delighted with how the light pouring in from the window hit it. Call me a photographer, but it was quite lovely.

So much beauty in a single coffee cup.

I looked out the window, taking in the scene. I don’t know what it is about circular windows, but they make the view even more spectacular. I smiled. Sometimes I forget how much I love Canal Park.

I can't get enough of round windows.

One of Ingrid Michaelson’s lesser known songs—but one of my favorites—was playing over the speaker system. I sat for a minute to enjoy it, as well as to take in the usual coffee shop sounds. There’s something really lovely about spending time in a coffee shop. It’s so inviting, yet intimate. Call me cliché, but I really do love spending time with friends one-on-one in coffee shops. It’s a mixture of two of my favorite things. Well three, if you count the coffee itself. Or maybe it’s four: friends, one-on-one conversations, coffee shops, and coffee. Whatever the case, I love it.

So here I sit. My headphones are in, the sounds of my newest playlist streaming into my ears. The sound is down just enough that I can still hear milk being steam and the cash register being opened. Occasionally, the man across from me turns his page, and I experience the all too familiar rustle of a newspaper. The sun streams in through the window over my shoulder. From time to time, I look out that same window and watch a car drive down the road or someone trek across the snowy sidewalk. It’s going to take a lot of effort to make me leave the comfort of this leather chair.

Yes, I do wear clothing from schools I don't go to.

My computer is now going to be put away, and my latest read is coming out.
And let me tell you something, friends.
This is bliss.