Change.

The school year is almost over, and I am in a bit of shock. I can't believe that I'm at the end of my freshman year. I mentioned to my roommate on a camping trip this weekend that we were only going to be living together for less than two weeks, and I almost started crying. I almost cried again when I thought about not having the same corefas (small group leaders) next year. That's the problem with me. I just want to hold people close and never let anything change. But change is good...right? I mean, you never get to have new experiences if you hold everything tight to your chest.
Next year I'm rooming with a girl on my floor who's too awesome to describe in a blog post, but I'll just say that she's a lover of Jesus, a resident of Alaska who's moving to Montana this summer, and an eater of meat (she assumes that I always describe her as a meat eater since she always tells people I'm vegan, so I just had to put that in there). But anyway, she's totally awesome and I'm excited to get to know her better through living with her next year.
And apparently God has called me to be a corefa next year, which is still kind of crazy to me. I'm not exactly the most qualified person for the job, but I guess God wants me there so I'm sure it will work out.
I know that God has grown me in myriad ways this year and I shouldn't just stay where I am, but I am going to miss the way things are now a lot.
Sorry for the sentimental post. To make up for it, here's a joke:

A man walks into a bar...
...
...
...
...
...
OW!

That's the best I've got. What, you're saying I shouldn't go into stand-up comedy? But this is America--what about my dreams?
Heh-heh. Enjoy the summer (or the remainder of classes), and DFTBA.

Flat Tire

What I'm Listening to: Heartbreak World (Matt Nathanson) Riding a bike with a flat tire is, well...a byword. If you've ever done it yourself, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Well, here I was one Thursday evening with homework I didn't want to admit I had and boredom I needed to stifle, so I decided I'd go for a bike ride. I strapped on my helmet, rolled my bike out of the garage, and took off down the long, steep hill next to our house. I noticed a strange noise coming from behind, but I figured a leaf had gotten caught in my tire or something. Little did I know. About a half mile later, when the road had flattened out and then steepened again, I noticed the undeniable resistance coming from the rear. The noise I had so easily ignored became my personal demon the rest of the way back home. Every push of the pedal was pure agony. The strange thing is, I had somehow known it all down the hill and across the even road. I just ignored the obvious and pretended my bike was just fine. I paid for it tenfold on the uphill ride back home, though. If I'd only listened to my instincts, I wouldn't have returned home gasping, my thighs and lungs screaming for mercy. But I guess that's life.