Upon arrival, Becca and I were roommates. We lasted through Christmas. We'll always be good friends, whether or not we were good roommates. I love her, and I love that we've started seeing more of each other this semester. This is us long after we moved in with other roommates. I know she'll always be one of those friends you go can without seeing for years and as soon as you meet again, it's like no time has passed.
This was at the beginning of last semester, but it could have easily been taken last year as well. My guess is that this was about 3:00 in the morning. Holly's acting drunk from her top-bunk bed, and Dale's hanging out, probably serenading us with songs we've requested or scaring Holly into cussing rages by playing horror movie music. Those nights were plentiful in number and memories.
This is also an all-too-familiar scene from this year. Justin and Ryan for a long time were frequenters of the 231. And more often than not, they were performing illegal sex acts on one another. They're not around much anymore, but images like this will forever be branded on my heart and mind. So what if that means I need counseling?
Every day in the Freak Suite is Western Kentucky Appreciation Day, but sometimes, you just need to set aside time to acknowledge your roots. Loud country music, crazy hats, and Uno brought our true selves out of the woodwork. Only in the Freak Suite is such behavior acceptable.
And where else could a pseudo-band called Chili Was A Nickel be born? That's right. The Freak Suite.
The Freak Suite keeps it real with retreats. On this night, we dressed all in red, sat on Santa's lap, and cried uncontrollably throughout Love Actually. This was only one of the many retreats we've gone on. The ultimate thus far being the John Mayer concert in Louisville over spring break. From now on, however, these outings will be more accurately dubbed Freak Suite Reunions.
Another perk of living here? Beating the living crap out of each other. Hardly a day goes by without someone physically assaulting someone else. Like today, Ashley and Holly are continuing their C'mon, let me poke you in the eye routine, and I stabbed Val in the hand with a pair of scissors. Sorry, Val. I forgot they were scissors.
For the last three semesters, Holly and I have been roommates. They say you cannot live with your best of friends, but it's not true. I guess you have to be a certain kind of friends. We're them. I guess that it's agreed upon that we're not the typical duo. It doesn't matter how much we disagree on certain things (and not that we do that very often), there is some mental makeup that we must have that's identical.
Holly, there was nothing more I dreaded than having to tell you that I was going to move out. It wasn't that I thought you would be mad. I knew that you would understand, but maybe it's harder to leave on a good note than a bad one. I should've known that it would take more than this to shake this friendship we've built on hundreds of emails, thousands of memories, millions of laughs, and approximately 270 nights in Springer College. But for a couple days, while we were getting used to the idea, things just seemed different. But do you know when I knew everything was going to be okay? When we were standing in front of that elevator in Faculty Hall and I called it "The Silent One" when I really wanted to call it "The Silent Killer," and you called it that. It was at that point that I came back to my senses and realized that somehow God wired our brains together in such a way that we don't even understand. Something tells me that's never going to change, even though our friendship has taken drastically different forms over the years. I think Ben got it right when he said, "Some things never change. Some things never stay the same."
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