Workspace

There are always orange peels on the desk and orange stained fingers tinkering on top of the worn surface, full of secret codes carved into the wood by a younger self searching for a way to never forget. Here there is a paint stain from an experiment gone awry, the daily mischief of a child who always believed that there was a secret door behind the bookcase, filled by a serial book collector who loves the smell of literature. They all reside here somewhere, the bone collector who does not venture outdoors, the violist who could never say goodbye, and my dear friend Yorick, though I sometimes mistaken him for Horatio. It’s not much, but it’s home.

Hazy summer noon. Pressing flowers. Eggs Benedict and carrot cake from David Burke’s Kitchen. Nothing cohesive, just bits and pieces from an Indian summer. 

I miss the warm weather. When I walked back to my dorm at 6 in the morning, I was shivering so hard my hands were shaking as I swiped myself into the building. I’ve been trying desperately to catch up on sleep and have ended up feeling pretty sick and tired of just about everything right now (I even changed my blog name). So absolutely done with school at this moment and looking forward to my 7 month break before medical school starts. My days are comprised of phantom toothaches, BBC Sherlock, and pining. I left my cameras at home and it really is like losing a limb. I find myself reaching for the shelf, but nothing is there. 3 weeks left – it shouldn’t be this hard, but it is.

Portrait of a Naturalist

Deer Friends

TA few days before Christmas Eve and already I am getting somewhat impatient. However, my grades have come back so my burden has been considerably lightened. Cold skin and runny noses and dust allergies have hounded me all evening as I curled into the couch to watch Disney movies with a bag of popcorn. Look before you eat, you never know WHO is hiding amongst the kernals.

15 Minutes Late