I’ve been about the most apathetic blogger ever since school began and I became entrenched in what Emily informs me is a “transition phase.” I’m three-fourths of the way to being an expatriate, halfway interested in school, ninety percent distracted by all complicated relationships with the opposite sex, and one hundred perecent anxious about leaving my friends for a six month sojourn in a country guaranteed to make me fat and political.
Ilya believes that man’s life is singularly the sum of his experiences, and while that claim immediately repels me (can one’s life really be reduced so much that effects on other people are unimportant?), I was inclined to experiment/reminisce in the name of blog. Judging from my photos, my experiences are mostly beer/friend/drug/sex/adevnture-driven, but I guess you can judge for yourselves. Part one of the farewell installment: nostalgia and things to which I must say goodbye.


212 off the chain in typical drunk/slutty/costumed style.


One friendship that hurts to say goodbye to.


Another one for whom the goodbyes don’t come easily. I hope you snickered when you read the word “come.”


Nostalgia abounds.


Palatable when blurry.


I’ve spent two-thrids of CZ parties partially clothed and fully wasted. At least this time I had the best of company.


Like Marcy said: mostly likely to start a dance party.


And we danced bigtime.


Who in the hell throws Surrealism parties? Art history nerds in a big way.


I want sex in the kitchen on your tippy toes.


Bryan used to live in 212 too.


Peanutbutter chocolatechip milkshakes in the trash corner at CZ. Improvised gourmet and a scummy wall: CZ in a nutshell.


There was the first belly button I ever made out with. God that Uncle J really did it for me.


Anya’s favorite. Frat boys can be violated too.


Bro. Down.


Back when nitrous was the thing.


Back when nitrous was the thing.


Dancing because nitrous is still the thing.


Bombshell blonde AND brunette.


Loved and lost.


Cloves, wine, overalls, vampires, Jordan, Morgan, Whitney.


I will miss thou Ladyloves.


Dancing on a table with hands up grabbing a pole.


Some things are taking longer to say goodbye to.


No longer dancing on the table with hands up, but now fallen on the floor with cellphone face and no motor control.


Two years of skinny dipping escapades.


Do you remember this picture? Have you kissed her yet? You should.


“Dear Courtney, His name is Andr