In the Nosebleed Section

The weekend.

The beginning is a good place to start.

Poetry and pie.

Also known as “poe” and “pie” by the more seasoned Whitworthian.

Meaning I just said it.

It’s pretty much what you’d imagine.

Poetry and pie.

This is how we chose to spend our Friday nights.

I heard an ode from my Spanish live lab leader.

The one who likes to recite poetry on top of chairs in the student union instead of doing normal class.

What a champ.

I think it’s safe to say we made the right decision.

Later we teamed up with my friend Alina for some Gilmore girls because as it turns out Alina’s a Gilmore Girls virgin. I know. I didn’t think there were any left either.

Then, the next morning when everybody remembered that it was a stressful week

and they should be getting lots of sleep

or spending every waking moment studying

Alina decided that the best course of action would be to get up early and ride into town for the REI scratch and dent sale.

We went for a backpack but came back with chacos. No harm no foul.

When we got back from that, I went with my lovely Whitworth "family" to downtown Spokanistan. Our mission was two fold. To find better than average quiech and coffee shops for Emily to perform.

A nice man with a Minnesota accent who was standing on the other side of the street offered to take our picture. Or maybe he was from Montana. It’s hard to say.

Unless he was faking it. And he’s not a man at all.

{Kristin, Anna, Cara, Sara, Emily}

I love these girls.

Sunday, the majority of our pod slept through our respective church services. oops.

We had good reasons. Not really, it was daylight savings so we had even more time.

I had the pleasure of mountain biking with this fine company.

I was especially pleased to finally figure out where the river was that my mom and I had seen when I visited Whitworth over a year ago. I had convinced myself they moved it.

Alina and I decided it would be a good idea to climb this tree.

Little did we know that the boys would take off when we were climbing back down.

Not really. They were sitting on the road when we left without them.  Right where we left them.

Color us embarassed.

Then later, Tyrone Wells melted our hearts.

T.G.F.F.C.A.W.U. Thank God for free concerts at Whitworth University.

That’s my motto

On a scale of one to ten, we couldn’t have been more excited

Sometimes in life, I wish I would shower before meeting Tyrone Wells.

This is my roommate and I.

Aren’t we the most darling set of roommates?

It would be hard to say.

There are probably a lot of other darling sets of roommates

that we haven’t met before.

Anyway, I could never add up all the laughter, priceless moments, music videos, European bread blah blah blah of this weekend.

And smoosh them into one blog post.

But I tried anyway.

Dare I say the best weekend of college so far?

It’s conceivable.

Keep it Real

Sara Nicole

Awake my Soul - A Mumf and Sons Tribute

Sitting silently on the edge of a foliate mountaintop staring out on the edge of infinity. Far off, the neighboring peak peers its snow-capped summit out of the fog. Darkness can be such a cruel expression. Yet, there it is, as I stare silently into the beautiful abyss heavily ladened with the hazy dimness of dusk. Slowly, I close my eyes for and I feel my heart stumble upon the unknown. Nothingness. Emptiness. I try to fill this void with unreal things. I try to bridge this gap with thin ropes and frayed wires. Peering out once again, I see glimmers of hope faintly in the distance coming from the other mountain. Why is it that we all desire to somehow be a part of something greater than ourselves? Something in our deepest marrow of our existence has a need to be valued. We want the world to see us through a false lens. But what about when the darkness robs the world of all its sight? Nothingness. My bridges have been burned. Burned into nothingness like the empty chasm below. We lose sight of God’s version of the story because it is too good to be true. Holy power crosses the lines of the valley. We never needed to build a bridge to begin with. Maybe that’s how grace really works. And in that moment I am done defending the person I have become. I have a faith that doesn’t deny moments of beauty, but rather embraces them. I have a faith that celebrates these kinds of transcendent moments instead of accounting them as tangents or distractions. I have come to understand that these events culminate to something greater. They act as a sampling-- a small taste of a much greater relationship. And that is what life is. Something greater from the one who first gave us the breath of life. We reflect the beauty and wonder of the one who made us. God gave us life and it is his desire that we live it. I will find beauty through suffering. I will find strength in pain. For the greatest gift I can give another person is a hope. The greatest act I can perform is not to bridge a gap, but to love. Love freely. Love without an agenda.

"Love will not betray, dismay or enslave you. It will set you free."

{Lewis River Trail ’10}

Keep it Real

Sara Nicole

I left my heart and burnt my socks.

This fall break instead of going home,

I put on my hiking duds and embarked on a Mount Saint Helens adventure.

We decided to backpack along the Lewis River because we hear it’s pretty rad.

As it turns out, it’s pretty rad.

Here are the participants.

{Melissa, Jeff, Holly, Niki, Chloe, Rylie, Liam, Sara, Sam, Hannah, Rachel}

Sneaky Rachel took my picture when I was sleeping.

I kept trying to cuddle with her in the night.

At one point I was almost completely on top of her snuggled up by her mat.

I had completely forgotten about the incident

until she brought it up over oatmeal in the morning.

It all came flooding back.

In our down time we talked about our morbid pet stories and made weaponry.

This is Rachel making a knife with a knife.

YOU HAVE A BETTER WAY?!

On Halloween night, we dressed up as backpackers and explored some spooky caves.

A special thanks to Jeff Poddmayer. He showed us the best Halloween ever until next year.

Once we got back on the road we were able to enjoy some real Oregon scenery.

A picture could never do it justice but I took one anyway.

Really in the end, we just went crazy.

On one final note:

-windmill farms are great.

Keep it Real

Sara Nicole

Absolutely 45th Street

This morning I went outside and said.

Hello Mr. Fall, it’s nice to meet you.

Keep it Real

Sara Nicole

A Strongly Worded Picture

Cara Verhaeghe.

Today is your birthday.

Nineteen years ago.

You emerged into the world.

And we are glad you did.

This is you. Eating the brownies that Emily and I made you.

We did not steal any Vegetable oil from the dorm next door.

Then disappear into the night.

You doll. I hope these words are worth a thousand pictures.

Keep it Real

Sara Nicole

It can’t crinkle if it doesn’t wrinkle.

Some people have told me I need to update this puppy.

Strictly metaphorically speaking, of course.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

So it’s pretty gross how obsessed they are.

But not really. Mostly, just Cara said that.

.

I will give you the Sparknotes version of today.

Chapter 1:

Can I say how much I love frisbee?

Of course I can, it’s my blog.

There’s nothing better than prancing around the rain and the mud with your 12 best friends.

and the referee. when he feels bad for our lack of skills.

To be fair, the other team had matching uniforms and synchronized warm-ups.

Chapter 2:

Apparently, Cara was going to “train” me for her psychology class. Like without telling me.

“I didn’t get the papers in on time,” she says.

I laughed so hard I almost fell off my bed.

Because, oh boy, it’s funny.

But don’t worry because I have been secretly training her behind her back.

hahahahahahhahahahah.

Chapter 3:

I just saw a lady walking out of Weyerhauser hall wearing the sweatshirt I left at the gym the other day. It has my name on the sleeve. So, jokes on her.

Chapter 4:

Middle of the night tribal dances are a must.

This is us:

Chapter 5:

I found some ninja. ninjis? ninja.

Analysis:

I love the Whitworth.

Keep it Real

Sara Nicole

I rarely throw fistfuls of glitter in the air.

Hello Clarice.

There’s a chill in the air. Symbolic? I think yes.

But really, it’s cold here.

I can’t really remember the events of the past week.

No, no this will be a stream of consciousness kind of post.

‘bout a week ago Cara and I made the commute into town to watch some volleyball.

A man dressed up as a gorilla sat next to us. Or maybe he was Sasquatch.

You can never tell these days.

Emily bought a pink wig. For kicks and gigs. And got kicked out of a bar with her 80-year-old grandparents. So the rumor goes...

Psychology lesson of the day: Babies are more likely to shock puppies for points than adults. My opinion on this: Points are points. Get them any way you can.

My Younglife class is still the greatest thing ever.

I have still yet to track down the lady I saw wearing my tennis sweatshirt.

FAKE OUT MAKE OUT. but not really.

I saw both my parents for different occasions.

My dad walked 8 miles from his hotel to take me to dinner when he had a Spokane overnight.

He thought it was much closer. Oh Jim.

This past weekend was parents weekend.

Which means they overwater the lawns and serve the fancy kind of hummus. But not really.

That’s just what they said on Gilmore Girls once.

On Friday my mom and sister and I saw a production of Once Upon A Mattress.

And Saturday mom and I painted the town in downtown Spokanistan. Spokompton? Spokane.

She treated me to some Paul Fleming Chang’s and redecorated our entire common room.

She’s your regular Emily Gilmore. That’s all there is to it.

Unless it’s not.

Plus I am fully stocked on banana chips now. so win win win.

But really, I owe a lot to my parents.

Especially my mother and father.

I saw these deer.

I tried to talk to them. They didn’t play. Maybe they were tired.

And as far as the events of room 304B:

The past week we invented lots of games. It was an accident.

But then, it was also an accident when I cut my gashed my knee playing ultimate spoons.

Sorry for interrupting, I’m talking about games.

Hi, my name is Cara, and I like to throw the boy-wooing-bubbles at my roommate, who already has two other bruises on her face.

And as punishment, Sara gets to translate all my phone conversations to Spanish for two weeks.

Oh, and meandering over to the HUB for free concerts.

But mostly imitating the awkward dances of everyone else who is trying to enjoy the music just the right amount.

Oh and the best game of all,

It happened something like this.

You have to know.

I crack myself up everytime I talk.

And everytime I don’t.

This evening is no exception.

So, I was updating all my stalkers with their dose of the "Turquoise Chandelier.”

And I stumbled upon the fact that my fancy computer can read aloud everything I type.

One thing lead to another.

And my computer was telling this to Cara:

Hello Caira. I stop the world and melt with you. Have you ever thrown a fistful of glitter in the air? Rumplstiltskin. Caira is a willy kitty. When I can’t talk on Wednesday I am going to use this to communicate. It will be great and fantastic. And I think you are great and fun and nice. Do you know the crepe man, this is so much fun Caira. No I am doing it Wednesday. Aohhhh hello. Care Bear Hair Dare. Cher. Share.

Paco Peco Chico Rico

Insolto de Modo Loco.

A su tio Federico

Paco Peco

Poco a Poco

Poco Pico

Just wait till Emily comes back from the practice room and I prop the computer outside her door.

Her reaction will be something like this:

Plus, I found my new way to communicate when I have to be a monk for 24 hours on Wednesday.

Like I said though, we’re not all fun and games. Let me enlighten you...

You know things are getting bad dancing to Pink in our bedroom is the most hilarious thing that happens all day and I take pride in getting the weekly riddle correct on the bathroom door.

Oh, Nickroley poo. This is for you. And only you.

Pilates starts next week. Look out world.

Keep it Real

Sara Nicole