Being sentimental

This is the first in a series of posts, odes really, to the people I care about and love.

I've been feeling particularly sentimental, likely a symptom of being home sick. Every time I'm away -- it happened when I was in Thailand for four months, too -- I think about my friends and family more than ever. It's like you don't realize what you have until it's gone. I even miss Tracy, not a person but my home town.

It's bittersweet. I'm sad to be away, but oddly refreshed at the idea of how much I love people and how good it feels to have them reciprocate that.

I miss my old schedule and what it meant -- being surrounded by amazing people. They're probably why my last months at the University were some of the best.

I got to work with a brilliant veteran journalist every week. He taught me more about the craft than I learned in any class. I also had the very best running buddies a girl could ever ask for. Anna Leisa and Naomi are beautiful young women who are sincere and almost always there. Another good friend called Brittastica, who I talk to almost as much as my mom throughout the week, went on reporting excursions with me outside the cities -- only to have the door slammed in our faces. And God, it felt good. Because even though the not-so-friendly landlord didn't want to talk, I could feel good about making every attempt for the comment. There's my cousin Stef, who was one of my best friends in college. When I didn't have a life, especially last fall, she gave me one. She came over to do laundry, watch movies or TV, eat.

This isn't the last of the mushiness. There's plenty to go around. And for the people who don't get an ode, that doesn't mean I don't love you. I do. You might not get a story, because I'm suffering from writer's block. If you want an ode, you can leave a comment, and I'll try my best to fulfill your request.