We Bleed Blue Here

If you’ve ever visited Kentucky, you know that we bleed blue.  No matter where you go, you will find someone wearing that distinctive blue shade.  I’m a fan of the color blue, so I’m happy that this is the unofficial color of Kentucky rather than yellow or something awful like pink.  No offense to you pink lovers; pink and I have never exactly been “simpatico.”    

In any case, I am not a fan of the Wildcats (sorry guys, but go Penn State!).  But I don’t need to be  to feel like I belong here.  The Big Blue Nation is a large community, almost like a family, and they are very excited about that and the team they love so much.  And that makes me excited. 

But when I say that we bleed blue, I’m not just talking about the Wildcats.  Blue is a color of loyalty, and that is the very word I would use to describe the Wildcats fans.  I’m sure if you gave a paper cut to a Wildcat fan, they would bleed blue.  

And all this loyalty stuff has me thinking- How loyal am I to what I believe?  Do I hang on to it, despite what people say or think, through thick or thin?  Am I unshakeable?  If you cut me, would I bleed blue for my cause?  

As I stare out my window at the bright, blue sky, I ponder these questions and more.  I’d like to think that I’d bleed a loyal blue when pushed.  After all, that’s what we do down here.

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Wow, it’s been forever!  I’m not sure what happened; life, I guess.  I guess it’s that way for college students sometimes.  In any case, I’m sitting here today, on this surprisingly warm winter’s day, with the window cracked open like it will be in spring, and I’m dreaming.

I’m dreaming about going places.  I know most people do, but how many people want to go everywhere?  I do.  Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be out west tonight!  For those of you from the western U.S., I envy you.  I’ve never been, but it’s on my list.  

I’m told that the mountains out there are taller than my dreams, that the sky is as big as my imagination, that the stars are clearer than burning city lights, that the pure wildness is more freeing than school letting out at the end of the year.  I’m told it’s a dangerously beautiful place, a place one can be free.  Sure, there’s freedom over here in the east, too- I’ve experienced it on the Appalachian Trail, on top of Old Rag in Shenandoah NP, after reaching the summit of the Precipice in Acadia.  But I wonder how that feels compared to standing on Pike’s Peak, or looking out over the Grand Canyon, or feeling the Pacific surf’s spray,or looking up at redwoods.  For all those who know how it feels, you are very fortunate.  

But someday, I’ll know, too.  Because despite what people say -that I’m practical and logical- I’m really just a dreamer.  And tonight I’ll dream of places far away.  

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As the Bell Tolls

Good morning, all!  The bell for nine a.m. just chimed and the morning train is speeding past downtown.  The train in a good distance from campus, so I have no idea how it manages to get so loud.

This morning is quiet and still.  Every once in a while, a student well scurry out from the fog like a shadow, then disappear into a building.  The trees are changing colors now, though it’s hard to determine color in such dense fog.  The shadows of birds quickly flick here and there across the sky, making me wonder if I actually saw them or if I imagined them.

Raindrops hang from the iron chairs and the white railings of the student center’s deck.  I lean back against the brick building and wonder, Is this what the British Isles are like, especially out on the moor?  Cool, foggy, damp, and quiet?

The sky lightens but the fog doesn’t lift.  It’s time for me to head to my next class.

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A Coffee Kind of Day

I don’t know where you are, but it’s cold today in KY!  I’ve had to take my sweatshirt out of the closet for the first time this fall.  A light jacket wouldn’t suffice today unless you are from Alaska or Antarctica.  I am from neither, and so I went with the sweatshirt.

Campus is crawling with women in boots and men in hoodies.  The preferred pant by both genders today are jeans.  I couldn’t agree more with this cold weather fashion staple.  Many students are also running around frantically between classes clutching both their books and a cup of coffee from our campus coffee shop.

I, too, couldn’t resist.  Although today feels more like winter than fall, I decided to go with a fall-flavored latte- s’mores.  The coffee was thick and sweet and wonderful, but only tasted vaguely like a s’more.  I was a little disappointed with the lack of s’more-flavored amazingness, but I was more than happy to just have a cup of warm coffee on a day like today. 


Wherever you are, I hope it is warm.  Even if you need a cup of coffee to do it.

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Ancient Prayers

Our voices blend together, causing the room to hum melodically as we read the familiar passage from John over and over again.  Because each individual is reading from a different part of the passage, picking up a single word, let alone a phrase or even a sentence, is nearly impossible.  If you listen closely, you can hear crescendos and decrescendos, pauses and the quick tempo of those who speak fast.  The noise churns about the room much like a stream flowing over rocks.  In fact, if you had just heard the sound without the context, you might have mistaken us for a stream.

For once, eight a.m. is not too early to learn about ancient (or at least older) civilizations.  In this case, we were learning about corporate monastic praying in the early 1000’s.  Fascinating stuff, surprisingly.    

Two hours later, the guest chapel speaker closes out with his own prayer -in Hebrew.  His voice rises and falls with emotion as he flawlessly sings (yes, sings) out the ancient prayer in that beautiful, rough language.  He is, after all, Jewish.  If you have never listened to someone speak Hebrew, you really should.  It has all the beauty of French, but with all the roughness of German.  

Prayer- it’s not always so clearly defined, is it? 

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Like a Lifetime

I suppose this post is a little delayed, but yesterday my bestie and I celebrated our 6th anniversary.  I suppose it’s a little ridiculous that girls our age have an anniversary for our friendship, but that also gives you a clue as to how silly we are.  I don’t think we’ll ever grow up, and maybe that’s why we’re friends in the first place.  

We first met in 8th grade (how long ago that seems!) when she turned around to talk to the quiet new girl behind her.  She still doesn’t know why she did it and I’m still not sure why I even talked to her in the first place.  But we’re both glad we did.  In six years, we’ve been through some of the darkest parts of our short lives -and we went through them together.

I guess in the scheme of things, six years is such a short time.  But at the same time, I feel as if six years is also a lifetime.  Time is funny, isn’t it?

Anyway, I am just so thankful for my best friend, and I hope you are thinking of your’s as well.  If you don’t have one, keep looking.  I’m sure he or she is out there waiting to bump into you.  Be open.  Sometimes your best friend is sitting right behind you, waiting for you to turn around.  

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Fall in KY

I’m not sure where you are reading this from -on your phone in the car or snuggled up on your couch with your computer, if you’re from north or south, a mile from me or ten thousand- but I wish you were here.  

A fall day anywhere, let alone Kentucky, doesn’t get much better than this.  Sure, most of the leaves are still green, but you can tell that a few trees are starting to change their minds.  There’s a nice breeze blowing, the kind that’s warm and light.  The sun is shining down, birds are flitting from tree to tree, and I am stuck inside studying for classes.  Oh, well, I’ll just have to go for a walk later.  

I only hope that your day, wherever you are, is just as beautiful as mine.


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