baby, you're a rich man.

The value of free time has escaped me for most of the "Spring" Semester. Never mind that Spring has just started- barely- to begin, and never mind that I've spent a majority of it riding the metro to conferences, internships, and shopping ventures. As amazing the opportunities this semester, as vivid the experiences of creating change, finally getting my hands on the political (and non-profit) world, and finally experiencing a truly colorful collegiate experience, nothing compares to free time.

A lot of the semester was spent feeling a disconnect. In so many ways, I was changing, or growing, or perhaps doing neither, but reflecting upon who I used to be. College has already been a strong and defining experience in my life, my development. I've opened up to new ideas, challenged the values of my youth, directly opposed the structures that kept me warm in New Jersey. But no matter how empowering independence is, there is always the tugging guilt, the consistent regret, the "sometimes" emotions of what-ifs and innocence lost. The first sip has never led to the last sip, and similarly, there is no taking back the mistakes, embarrassments, and bad decisions of weekends and nights badly spent. The bright side has always been growing from those.

College has been turbulent, in the least expected of ways. Turbulence didn't arise over me struggling with course work. I have never been anxious about my future in the ways I expected. Instead, I found turbulence in the rate of change, in the drastic emotions of realizing that my friends back home couldn't recognize me and my friends here saw me exactly as I've always been seen. As Carmen, some things will never change. I will always be the loud one, with the big hair, and the "big" personality. Word it how you please, but I know what you're trying to say, and the brash generalization never gets easier with time.

Swallowing change is difficult.

I spent Friday in a haze of various kinds, smoking hookah around a large table in the middle of the liveliest of areas. I stepped on the street and in the middle of the bent lights and the wavy faces were people of all kinds, awake and alive at the ungodliest of hours.

I spent Saturday slipping into blue high-waisted shorts, a cardigan, and black tights, and prancing down the streets filled with exuberance. I gave away my camera, and perhaps too many hints as well, and let the night take control. Once again, it was a time of lightheartedness, the likes of which I've missed since we all first came back together. It was the night that defined the Semester of Womyn.

But before that, we did the tourist thing and visited the Cherry Blossom Festival. Nothing is more beautiful than watching nature warm up.




Sunday, upon waking up on a sofa, I slipped into another pair of tights, a high waisted skirt, and a sense of purpose. I did everything I had to do, and I felt Spring seeping into me again.

It's been a weekend of reawakening. I'm blaming it on the weather and that persistent sun shining through the glass. I remember now what it was to lay in the Quad and stay up at night, outside, in the moist air of morning. I can feel it in my lungs everytime I swallow iced coffees and it spreads throughout whenever I lower the thermostat. The sun is back, and it's better than ever. Add sense of self, mix in revitalized motivation, and stir well.

That, my friend, is the Spring Semester at a close: confident, purposeful, and once again, centered. Thank God for those Cherry Blossoms and the breeze.