do these. all of them. and then do them again.

october happens every year.

this is a truth. a certainty. except that, for me, it’s bigger than that. and i’m not even sure why.

for the past several years, like clockwork, october has always been a big month. huge, if you will. far greater than my understanding.

and every year, like said clockwork, it has changed a part me of. in some cases, it has changed all of me.

it happened last year.

and the one before that.

and back a year before that.

and hey guess what.

it’s october.

and for reasons that i’m not going to disclose quite yet: it has changed me once again.

it’s how we do.

this hasn’t happened in about 10 months.

[actually it’s never happened because i only just met the girl on the far left yesterday.]

but the other 3 (who all share dna and one parent) haven’t been in the same room together since last december.

holy not okay.

so we did what any normal sibling trifecta would do on such an occasion and danced to robert miles on repeat (huh?), took vodka shots out of ramekins (what?), and sang ‘chicken fried’ on top of a stool (yeah, sounds about right).

and it was awesome.

4am kind of awesome.

october beach days are the jam.

suck it, haters. the summer isn't over yet.

what's better than going to the beach in october? going on a monday in october when everyone else is at work.

oh, unless they had columbus day off. what a lame holiday. i read it best this morning:

let's celebrate columbus day by walking into someone's house and telling them we live there now.

yes. let's.

it’s a peanut plug.

my freshman year in college was perfect for 2 reasons:

#1: i was a freshman in college.

#2: peanut.

because i thought it was a solid idea to apply to every college in the world and not make the final decision of where to spend those 4 formative years (i did it in 4, people. this isn’t so common anymore.) until about a day before classes started, there was a bit of a last-minute scramble to find a roommate . . . and one who wouldn’t stab me in my sleep or steal all my things or try and convince me to drink blood from a vial.

by the grace of God and by the power of friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, i found my match.

peanut (whose real name is leigh) would later tell me that, prior to actually meeting me, she didn’t really fancy the idea of cohabitating with a girl she had already convinced herself was an anorexic ballet dancer who just wanted to pet cats all day.

little did she know.

so for 9 months, we lived inside a room not much larger than a prison cell.

we had fruit flies who we named.

we rarely cleaned anything.

she taught me how to make coffee and study at 5am while i taught her how to stay out all night and come home at 5am.

we laughed at really stupid things and cried over really important things.

we maneuvered through crushes on upper classmen, the importance of eating more than just cans of pees for dinner every.single.night., the value of a good coffee shop, and the reality that sometimes the best kind of friday night is the one you spend behind a closed door talking about how much you love each other. in a very kindred spirit kind of way.

and because i love her and because she is so damn smart and wise and funny beyond her own comprehension, i think it would be a good idea for you to read what she has to say.

so go here: Granny’s Bosom

and then thank me.

and then go find yourself your own peanut.

because you can’t have mine.