Blythe Baird
UndeRADuate
undeRADuate College is rad as rollerblades, 3D glasses, and pop-up books, man. It feels like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure novel. Here, there is always somewhere and someone to be. Strangers ask me to read their palms in the cafeteria and sometimes we smoke cigarettes in the community bee garden or meditate at midnight or spend school nights at the Tea Garden with other young third wave feminists who like glitter and slam poetry and tumblr. It is so nice to make friends who do not know about the gaps in my high school career or the locked car doors and pulled ponytails of the grey years. They know nothing of the man who ripped my tights or the semester of silence and dropped eye contact, no. Here, I am always laughing and finding beauty and you would never believe last year I had a heart like a full medicine cabinet; a head like hot soup. Here, I have people to buy birthday cards for and to get breakfast with and I am discovering happiness like pockets in a dress I didn’t think had any. Today, someone asked me my favorite color, and I said gold like right away which is neat because, you know, for a while I didn’t have a favorite anything. Today, someone literally read a poem I wrote to their plant. Today, I have tapestries and pictures on the wall of people who love me and empowered women to look up to and a city like a good luck charm. I am so glad I stayed here to see this. I am so glad this is here to see.