Ruby Slippers

Thursday, I drove 14 hours. Stopped once for lunch, twice for coffee. I’ve never driven that far in one day before, and with the help of multiple coffees, it really wasn’t as bad as I thought it might have been. We left Knoxville with the sunrise on our heels. We pulled in to Junction City, Kansas with the sunset spreading over the plains.

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Farmer’s Market

Saturday morning is the Farmer’s Market in downtown Knoxville. The Farmers Market here in Knoxville started in 2004, but didn’t get a whole lot of attention until the last couple years. Now, the downtown Square and surrounding streets is full of heaping piles of lettuce, fresh local meats, and crafts – and, of course, booth – to – booth people.

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Freshman year – a poem

A list: what I learned my
first year of college

making my bed will
never be a priority because
i’d rather remember
how we messed it up.

five hour energy
comes in little bottles
but they pack a
big punch.

call home on the same day
every week,
don’t hang up in any less than
15 minutes.

it’s okay to
pick favorites.

Jealousy is like
strawberries –
spreading runners until
you are

Ice cream
counts as dinner.

Not So Springy


Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to take pictures in an eternity, hence the lack of style-related posts. Oops. As a result, this picture is from January, which means I’m not emitting quite the same springy vibe that I’m aiming for currently.

My interest in fashion has definitely evolved over the course of my first year in college, but I’m not exactly sure if it’s for better or worse yet. Yes, I’ve worn sweatpants on more occasions that I’d like to admit. But I’ve also been able to get out of my comfort zone a little bit and attempt to pull things off that I definitely wouldn’t have in the past.

It’s a good reminder that no matter how much I feel like I have myself completely figured out, I don’t just yet. Luckily I’ve got some time.


Fearlessly adorned with
bloody polka-dots

eyes lightly lined with
gentle pink, softly swollen

I want to bury you alive
dropping tiptoe kisses onto

you like dirt thudthud
on the roof of a coffin

swathe you in my
sheets of security and

you won’t be saved by the bell.