A Very Lucky Girl

The countdown to Scotland is dangerously, single-digitly, low. This adventure comes with stacks of paperwork. I've waded through credit agreement forms, applications, and student visa visitor documents. Questions about race, education, and money continually swim in my head, but the hardest question I've answered on those forms is: where is your permanent residence? From a young age my address was ingrained into my brain, part of the trifecta of particulars every elementary school-aged child memorizes. full name: Taylor Olivia Arceneaux phone number: 790-4006 address: 1251 Buckingham Circle, Franklin, TN, 37064 Of course, I would never give this information to a stranger offering candy, but I had it ready in my arsenal if a responsible adult ever needed to know. But now I am the responsible adult and I haven't known the answer to the third question for a long time. Is it where I'm living currently? If so, that's on the road. I leave Baton Rouge, my relativel...

I realized lately how comfortable Tyler and I are in our relationship. It's honestly amusing. There are several conversations and phrases we say now that would have been taboo on our first date about a year and a half ago. I was feeling sick the other week and demonstrated for him how much phlegm was in my throat by making a truly heinous noise. Instead of dumping me in disgust, he laughed.  We never back away from the double chin snapchat and had a contest at lunch the other day to see who could create the most chins. He won and was proud of his victory.  We confidently yell through the bathroom door mid-pee. The first time he tried to talk to me through the bathroom door I was hesitant: "Wait, you're really doing this? Are we there?" Apparently we were and have been ever since. He found a quarter in his bed one night and asked, "where did this come from?" I promptly responded, "I poop quarters." Mistake. Whenever he needs change now, he c...

I factor in naps at every opportunity. Done with class for the day? Naptime. Just finished dinner? Naptime. Stressed out? Naptime. I don't know what is so satisfying about snippets of sleep during the day. Maybe it's the rush of doing nothing while the world keeps going on around you. Whatever it is, I'm addicted. I was asked at CRU what national holiday I would add to the already full repertoire. Without missing a beat, I blurted out "National Nap Day!" Obviously. Taylor had the next best thing, Second Christmas. Squeeze that bad boy in between July 4th and Flag Day and everybody wins. You'd never have to wait 365 days for Christmas again! What a concept. Anyway, back to naps. I probably use them most as an escape mechanism. Forget vats of alcohol or scores of heroin. Give me a good nap, where homework assignments cease to exist, phone notifications go unnoticed, and all that remains are my covers, my blanket , and me. Anxiety escapes me during REM cycles...