C "got" me

I had an all-too brief Facebook chat with my college roommate last night. We roomed together a year, in Tulsa, OK--after that I moved to attend K-State and live with my sister (and be closah to Shawn).

"C" and I talked on the phone prior to meeting each other. We sent each other our senior photos. I thought her taste in lipstick was impeccable (frosty pink). Her hair shinier than that of a Finesse model. Meeting her was like reacquainting myself with someone I already knew. Someone who felt safe to trust me. She was with her mom when we met. She carried this black canvas back with big, red cartoon lips on it. I coveted it a little.

Back home, I'd bored a hole in the ceiling...lifting prayers that she wouldn't snore. And she didn't! But tea kettles make this whirring sound that freaked me out at first; I got used to it, though (she had one that plugged in). Go, caffeine!

I erected a Shawn shrine in our room. Poor C. Poor Shawn. No boys allowed in the dorms so he never saw the extent of it. It was bad, filling an entire corner. C never flinched. When I balled and slobbered, missing my man (good heavens, we were still kids), she was cool. I didn't have a computer, so she let me chat with Shawn on hers (we went nuts with the emoticons). And, most importantly, she gave me newfound confidence to assert and say. I was a tad more reserved in those days, not willing to step, if even delicately, on anyone's toes.

Assert. Say.

Opine.

What great things. I'd found my liberation.