Ben: I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to fly, spreading my arms out wide, taking in a lungful of coming air, breathing it all in.
Morgan: "I tried to fuck up your project."
Rachel: Lunchtime for the puppy. 
Amber: Scrubbing the apartment making it look beautiful!
Ben: I really wanted my hands to be good and warm, dug deep into pockets that seemed better than anything else, the cold really did bite, and i saw a man coughing good, a girl sneeze, and another who was wrapped tight in a plain scarf, some days really are just a bunch of random run-ins, that all seem to come together making one less than lucid dream.
Morgan: i was driving to kroger to get some snacks for a tournament this weekend when i noticed some bird poop on my windshield. i got rid of it.
Rachel: Arbys; snuck outside for a quick picture. See that car? I'm supposed to be attending to it... yet I'm outside cause I was getting bored with my typical Friday pictures from the window. 
Amber: Class, quick shot because the professor was right there!
Ben: Over another's shoulder a sight can be seen, like stepping in one's shoes or wearing a man's coat you've just met, peer into a stranger's life, look through the facets and down its holes, inspect crevices and all the ridges you find, ask what is this, inquire what is that...meet new people, say "how do you do"
Rachel: I dig a french bikini on Hawaii island
Amber: church today.
Rachel: Home sweet home.
Ben: If at all, the dropping of one's pen begs the symbolic action of surrender, then the weight of exhaustion, and the burden of dutiful attention becomes more understandable. My head bobbed two times, three, and I counted backwards, furthering my tortured wake and to certain peaks of painful pricking. First went my feet, then each leg. The needles were sharp and the lecture, droning. Slap me please. Wake me please.
Morgan: my hair has gotten quite long and straightening it has caused many split ends -- is it obvious that im a little bored in my religions class?
Amber: Food
Rachel: Got home from class, went to Kroger to buy Orange Juice and medicine, came home, ate a bagel, set the alarm for 1:03, passed out, slammed off alarm, took this damn picture, went back to bed.
Ben: Most people are astute enough to know, if you aspire to write, you carry a pen and paper everywhere, no matter the time or place, inspiration has no limits and can pop up at any given moment; be prepared most would advise...half the time i know, which leaves the other half, and in those cases, and humorously enough, there's always a napkin, a bountiful supply of napkins, you'd be surprised how often there are--and always someone to loan a pen...there you have it and now you know how most of Charles Chump is conceived...via napkin and borrowed ink.
Rachel: Back from Wintergreen, the souvenirs I brought were 3 boxes of tissues, Aleve, and orange juice I stole from David's fridge. Now I sit here sick wanting to go back to the snow covered mountain instead of sitting in my kitchen, writing annotations and blowing my nose repeatedly.
Amber: Mangled mesh of machinery 
Ben: It's odd, really, how half the time i'm in a place unknown, and amongst people i've never seen or met, how the unintentional leaves me bewildered and feeling unwelcome, or in better terms, completely detached from all that i consider comfortable--there was a kid who stared and a mother who guarded her purse, a man who stepped aside, furthering himself from me, and a elderly couple who turned around completely, leaving before i could apologize--my sleeves were up and to everyone there, i was just another tattooed punk, looking to cause trouble--i wasn't though, i was only there with a thirst for coffee and the need to pass time.
Morgan: Driving down 64 West to Charlottesville to visit my friend, Monica, and watch her perform a modern dance in UVA's VSA culture show-- that dance was was best part of the show, trust me. 
Rachel: In between timer pictures of ourselves, David and I turned to the landscape itself for my 1:04 picture. No words can describe the beauty of the mountains of Wintergreen covered in snow, so I'll just let the picture speak for itself... I just wish it did it justice.
Amber: walking the mail
Ben: With pictorials of shuttle cocks, men with breast, graffiti, and regular cocks to my right, this seemed to be the healthy alternative at any photo opportunity, considering of course, not much is going to be at all descent when in the middle stall on the third floor of Hibbs.
Rachel: Arbys; I believe you've met Amy once before, but here she is again.
Amber: Test for PSYC was online, my room was taken over by notes and tabbed pages of the book.
Ben: In many cases, when a hang over gets the best of you, there is no way, and no person that can entice you from bed and away from the TV, because when all that is needed to survive the day is a good run of childhood favorites, Home Improvement being one of them, well, then bed is where you'll stay, that is until you're good and ready to roll out and maybe make yourself a cup of hot-chocolate and a bowl of cocoa-puffs.
Rachel: Looking up tattoo ideas with Katelyn and contimplating how furious our parents would get if we got one.
Amber: Cali helping me study.
Ben: Unaware really of the time, there was a lapse and found myself uploading, taking and sipping coffee all at once--some days i find myself more mechanical than anything else, moving about as if i were the walking dead, mindless and oblivious to the surrounding world, grunting maybe in response.
Rachel: Hi, I'm Rachel, I'm 19, and I still love to color in coloring books.
Amber: comfort: 1 a state of physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint. (comforts) things that contribute to physical ease and well-being. prosperity and the pleasant lifestyle secured by it...(upper left corner) a model of the injury sustained by Phineas Gage. Twenty-five-year-old Phineas Gage, a railroad employee, was blasting rock on day in 1848 when an accidental explosion punched a 3-foot-long spike, about an inch in diameter, completely through his skull.
Ben: An overwhelming warmth came, flustering cheeks with hinting rose complexions, the embarrassment was there and the need to hide came quick--the joke was bad and there was a spotlight bright as day, shinning down and for everyone to see--the quick draw of a camera flash distracted watchers--and in many ways the person adjacent thanked me for what i did, after the snap no one remembered exactly what he had said and how horribly unnecessary it was....you're welcome.
Amber: Walking home, crossing the construction. 
Ben: It was a restless night, peppered with fitful wakening; the sun came and the road was forgiving, open wide with few cars along side--it was nice, the drive, smooth enough to mention and to make it in time for a paper drop-off. In that moment everything felt right, warm and good, that is, until sitting down with a bowl of carrot soup and "The Lotus-Eaters," the soup had a bitter bite and the poem, depressing as hell--it all reminded me of Frost, nothing Gold can stay.
Rachel: Parting ways with Morgan after she showed me the "fast way" down Harrison. Michael Lease would call this picture "wonky."
