Our Team of Bad Good Friends

Ayrielle

Don’t worry about how you are saying my name in your head right now. Most likely, you are mispronouncing it. And aside from my ever-present struggle with the long awkward pause in roll-call dues to my name, the identity of this blog is not far removed from my life. I grew up with the full expectation of attending college. Well, I exist because of a university. My parents being first-generation college graduates, fervently believe college is the reason why they were able to climb the social-economic ladder. That same ladder that not only permitted that I wear a cheerleading uniform of my father’s alma mater to attend a football game on a sunny fall day as a child but also one that would essentially afford me the luxury of growing up in an antique store in southern Indiana and know what a musky book from 1910 would smell like because of the difference in the bonding materials. The short of it is that my father is an engineer type whose hobby of picking, purchasing, and selling antiques became a full-time operation in itself and made for a rusty love that would follow me to my own college experience when I decided to study Latin – the language of the ancient Romans – and seriously become addicted to coffee to the point I was drinking around 14 shots of espresso daily. I’m now around 4 shots a day, I work at my father’s alma mater as a graduate program coordinator and a holder of a master’s degree in something that has nothing to do with dead people.

Krista

I grew up in a very rural setting, spending the majority of my time outside. Even our vacations were spent outdoors within the midwest region - caving, canoeing, fishing, camping, etc. It was probably raining, spent at an antique store, or a great-grandparent’s if we were indoors. Growing around worlds before my time most certainly impacted my appreciation for the previously used and loved things. So when I went to college, it was a very new and different experience for me. Of course, I had always heard college was important. I needed to go, I had to go. My mamaw (grandmother, yes, this is what some of us in the southern part of the state call them) had a post-high school education, but not my parents. The push to go was serious. I went; I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Needless to say, some time and dollars were wasted. I did, however, find a path. Now, I’m juggling work and my master’s degree in community development while being a dog mom and attempting to keep my “cool aunt” status. Somehow I find time here and there for photos. I still have my first two cameras, one being a hand-me-down from my dad bearing his initials, which also happen to be mine (hello sentimental)! As much as I take work and school seriously, I’m filled with sarcasm and strange facial expressions. It’s true! It’s nearly impossible to catch me laughing with my eyes open, not have my tongue sticking out, and not showcasing my thoughts on my face. Seriously, the queen of photos is really just the jester.