FRIENDSHIP (the sweet, the true, the 1 Corinthians 13)

7, 281.

THAT is how many photos I’ve collected on my laptop since last June.

And I’m going to share 7 of them with you.

But first, I want to tell you a story.

…

I get homesick.

I remember one particular week this past spring semester. It had been a rough few days at college (or so I thought at the time) and all I wanted was to go home.

I was so homesick that I decided to check my mailbox.

Which you only do if you’re looking for even more sadness, of course. Sadness in the form of (probably) a bill from some online thing I didn’t mean to sign up for, or a project with an imperfect grade plastered on it in big red letters… or maybe if you’re lucky (not sadness), a note from home.

AND FOR ONCE, THERE WAS A NOTE. WHAT.

Oahu: The Treehouse, Manual Labor, Grandpa Ray, and Surfing

This summer, I went to the Hawaiian Island of Oahu with three close friends, and came back with sun poisoning, a bruised tailbone, and an unexpected amount of content to write about.

Let me tell you about just one of the eight days.

Maybe in another post, I’ll tell you about the other seven days on the island. And maybe about “Tiger Lounge,” our special invite to a gathering of weed-smoking hippies who play musical instruments in a laundry room.

photo diaries: Israel

I recently went through my phone deleting some photos, trying to clear up space.

It seems like I try to do this at least once a week, but each time it turns into a nostalgic activity of me looking through the photos and forgetting to delete them.

This exact pastime of mine was occurring when I came across the hundreds of photos from Israel.

As I flipped through each photo, memories of moments came flooding back as if I had hit the “play” button on a home movie series starring sunburnt, sleep-deprived, happy Carrie (running on iced coffee, dried figs, and hummus).

And When It Snows

By the end of this snowy afternoon, we were all soaked, chilled, and exhausted, with sore faces from too much laughter and defrosting cheeks.

everything I know about me

 

Hello there! I’m Carrie, and this is my obligatory “this is who I am and this is what this is about” introduction.

Who I am, now this is the hard part. I’m still figuring that one out, so here are some facts to give you the general idea.

A Taste of Paris (and of myself)

A week before we were to fly to Rome for ten days, Hannah Waters texted me at 8:34am a screenshot of the price of a plane ticket from Rome to Paris. With a crying emoji.