I’m sitting in Allen on the second floor, my usual spot. I was bracing myself for this week—each day over the weekend I was praying for productivity and peace. Nothing too dramatic is happening—just midterms, a few homework assignments and a story for the newspaper. Normal day-to-day, week four things. Still, I drafted a map of my schedule, and the meetings, interviews and study hours needed to keep up with all the shenanigans seemed more than overwhelming. I prayed more. Yet

If you know me well enough, you know that I like to keep very close tabs on how I’m feeling. I’m constantly evaluating, reflecting and taking inventory of what is going on in my blender of a brain. Because of this, I am an avid journaler. The only way for me to ensure that everything I’m thinking is figured out and processed is to write my thoughts down in pretty journals. Yes, they must be pretty journals. It doesn’t work as well otherwise. But seriously, thoughts run throu

I’m sitting on my new couch, looking out my wide-open windows, and man oh man do I feel good. Take this with a gulp of perspective because if I’m being honest, most moments of goodness I’ve experienced lately are sticky with a feeling of anxiety and fear. But for the most part, I am feeling a little lighter today. Anyway, back to the big windows and my overstuffed couch (seriously people, Craiglist gifted me the world’s greatest piece of furniture). I’m listening to country m