Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

I actually deleted this whole blog post. I had it all finished, ready to be published, and then realized I didn't like it. I thought it captured my entire college experience. It told the story of what I was doing 365 days ago as I walked into my first college class. It described in detail the friends I made and their significance in my life. But reading through it one last time I realized it  sounded too typical; and this year has been everything but typical. That being said, I'm not going to recap the year in lists and pictures. Instead, I am going to share a very personal and self-made writing exercise I did at 3am a few weeks ago. I challenged myself to write from memory three pictures that showed significance to me. In my opinion, each scenario shaped the past 365 days and my college experience. 

Picture 1: 

 It’s Memorial Day weekend in Ocean City, Maryland. This picture hardly has a background. We did not ask a stranger to take it, we did not cradle my iPhone in an array of resources to steady it for a self timer picture. Instead, we flipped the camera view towards us and we both squeezed into the frame. Through the reflection in the lenses of his sunglasses the viewer can see just what we are seeing; a sinking summer sun over the horizon of the bay, interrupted by wooden posts on the docks. Down the middle of his Ray-Ban-like frames falls a single loose blonde curl. He has thin lips, perfectly puckered, home to a smile that would be impossible not to kiss. The sleeves on his white t-shirt are cuffed revealing the secret of a bad tan. My makeup is worn off; a six hour car ride in 80 degree weather will do that to a girl. That means my freckles are fully visible and my eyes are solely dependent on my mood to give them character, opposed to the helpful sweep of liquid black eyeliner and dust of eyeshadow. I’m wearing a cotton sundress. It has a modest “v” neck that is almost camouflaged among the vertical pink and navy blue pinstripes intertwined with pale yellow and dusty rose Japanese blossoms. I’m smiling, but with my mouth closed. It emphasizes the two dimples I have on my right cheek.  But what isn’t captured in a toothy grin is redeemed by the contentment in my eyes. My head is cradled on his right shoulder between the crest of his collarbone. Long strands of my hair snake over his shoulder and down the front of his white t-shirt creating a strong contrast that emphasizes the blonde in my hair. There are no secrets in this picture. The joy and contentment that filled this frame eludes past this moment. This picture would not be a social media post in an effort to convince others of our happiness. What was captured in this picture was a lifestyle. Our pale Irish skin tones will soon boast a sun-kissed glow that will last throughout the summer. But just like young love, the pigmentation will fade.

Picture 2:

It’s Halloween. I am at some bad-decision, backyard, house party in South Philadelphia lying to myself, the camera, and social media, that I’m having a good time. My costume lacked creativity but encouraged a quarrel. I wore an oversized official Pittsburgh Penguin NHL jersey with the last name “Malkin” stitched between my shoulder blades. I sported  heathered gray mid-thigh socks with varsity stripes that peaked out from the top of my knee-high black suede boots. I shifted my weight from my right to my left hip and tilted my head just the same in hopes to create the quick façade that I hadn't impulsively hacked seven inches off my hair off two weeks prior. If my eyes didn’t show the sadness I was trying to hide, my homemade heart-break-induced haircut did. I stood to the left my date; a pre-med Temple University student lazily dressed in a tie-dyed t-shirt and 70’s sunglasses proudly deeming it as a hippy “costume.” I stuck my tongue out making sure my tongue ring was visible and chucked a “peace” sign up with my right hand -- the same hand that had not known peace for 8 weeks. My fingertips had not twirled any loose blonde curls, they only wiped remains of mascara away from my tear stained cheeks on Saturday nights. My Snapchat story falsified my fun and my fake smile was Emmy award winning.

Picture 3: 

It's late December in western Maryland. Our background is a blanket of fresh snow lightly kissing leafless branches. Below us is a wooden platform bridge symmetrically assembled with only light wear on the wood. To our left is a Jenga formation of rocks. I’m wearing a Millersville University quarter zip sweatshirt that my roommate doesn’t know I pilfered from her closet. My varsity striped heather socks are cuffed and peep out from the top of duck boots; the same socks I wore at Halloween. I am sitting on his shoulders as he effortlessly holds me still. I have a handful of his overgrown, loose, blonde curls in my hand as I try to steady myself between fits of laughter. My hair is growing back now; a visual of my heart being pieced backed together. His smile that is normally sealed shut has now pulled upwards at the corners of his mouth; the same mouth and smile that once whispered to me, “you are every positive adjective I could ever give.”  He’s wearing white pants after Labor Day. It works because he’s never been one to follow rules. He's wearing lace-less Vans that surely have melting snow seeping in through the canvas. Despite his Eagle Scout status, he looks out of place in these woods. His outerwear is in the form of a Sperry Top-Sider pullover underneath a Helly Hansen rain jacket -- preppy and overpriced attire fit for setting sail off the coast of some New England port town; not hiking. For months, our eyes only glistened with a joyful deceit that was hiding welled up tears begging to be spilled. Our mouths only uttered to others, "I'm fine," instead of "I love you" followed by a kiss that said the same. Our shoes were protecting the feet that once ran barefoot through the sand at 2:30am and Baltimore in a cold downpour. The same feet that touched the bottom of the swimming hole where we floated amongst a waterfall. And the same feet that explored Rhode Island's famous seaside cliff walk in the rain. But overall, this picture and all that is in it is silver linings and new beginnings. 

My college experience started out with excitement, new friends, high expectations, and curiosity. Little did I know that my favorite memories from this year wouldn't be the parties or impromptu traveling with my best friend. Instead, my favorite moments of this year were the 2am Sheetz runs with my roommates.The midnight Disney movie binges with four of us squeezing onto a couch that only fits three. It was sober game nights with my neighbors, trivia on Tuesday nights, Roburrito's whenever, and blurry pictures. In these past 365 days I have laughed harder than I ever have yet cried more tears than I will in a lifetime. I built new friendships, celebrated success, faced failure, felt heartbreak, and experienced a personal growth that I didn't know I was capable of. So cheers to the next 365 days, the spring semester, old friends, silver linings, and new beginnings.

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