A toast to the good ol' days, people, and clay.

It's weird how people in life come and go. Some stay for a while, some a long time....but it changes. They change. I change.

Sometimes I miss the "old days." The old groups of friends [many of whom are still my friends, but we just don't see one another as much]. So here is a toast to them. I don't know why, I just felt like writing this. Raise your glass.

A toast to my freshman floor. Here's to all the giggly, adventurous girls who thought life was fun nearly all of the time. To the girls who would dress up in black and go run around at night for no reason. To the girls who were the definition of juxtaposition. Would I go back to that stage? No, hell no. I have grown up a lot and understand a lot more about the world, myself, and life [and this understanding includes understanding how little I understand. Yes.]. But sometimes I miss the days when ignorance was bliss and life was just fun. And the people who were at the same place as me.

A toast to my camp friends. Here's to not so much our times at camp, but to our times outside of camp when we would just do life together. Celebrate the New Year. Watch Japanese movies. Laugh and cry and sometimes do both simultaneously. Drink beer. And then, at the end of it all, fall asleep cuddling on the floor because we love each other and that's what we do. Here's to that pure goodness.

A toast to my Spain friends. Here's to those few people who can understand my study abroad experience almost as well as I do. Those people who know where Plaza de Cuba is and are Sevillistos or Béticos (with an extra ode to the latter). Here's to those people who know what it's like to live a different life for a bit. Those people who were exploring a new country with me and those who welcomed me into their country. Uuuuueeeeee....ellos han cambiado mi vida y les echo muuuuuucho de menos.

And of course a toast to my psych nerd friends. All hail the nerds. You wish I was kidding, but I'm not. Here's to deciding to all skip class and go get coffee while it snows. Or to taking pictures of Zimbardo at his lecture because he is OBVIOUSLY that cool. And to decorating our grad caps with glitter glue and reminding one another to constantly enjoy the simple things in life.

An toast to my friends who don't fit into a category. Thank you for not. I need you and your nonconformist ways.

Oh dear beautiful people who were and are in my life, thank you each for taking part in forming my half-finished, imperfect, yet completely authentic and on its way to beautiful sculpture of a life. Some of you helped remove the scraps of clay. Others helped define what shape I am and will be. Some added pretty textures. I am far, far from complete, but that is okay. Art with imperfections can still be worth something I think.

And that is where I am and what I am. A messy, textured, lump of clay that is being formed into a sculpture. Or a mug. Or a bowl. I'm not really sure yet. But thank you, dear Sculptor and sculptors, for choosing to spend time in forming me.

A toast to You and you. Thanks. Cheers.