Every spring, when the snow melts and the sun comes out, students can be found hanging around outside. I live in the part of my campus that is unofficially the home of creatives. As soon as the grass is dry (sometimes even when it's muddy) everyone is pulling out blankets and towels to sit on.

Almost everyone I know goes out to the hill near my building and sets up camp for the afternoon. People bring tightropes, hacky sacks, acoustic guitars, homework, notebooks, speakers, and frisbees. We could spend hours out there, many students do.

I remember as a first year college student I would never go sit on the hill by myself, I had to gather up a group of people to brave the hill with me. That couldn't be farther from how I feel now. Don't get me wrong, I still love sitting out there with my friends, but now I'm perfectly happy to sit with a pen and notebook by myself.

I'm a writer. I mean, obviously you sort of knew that if you're reading this, but what I mean is that I love creative writing. It's so easy in the winter to get caught up in rushing around and getting things done, the last thing I want to do at the end of a cold, dreary day is think about writing a poem. With the start of spring comes more sources of inspiration.

I've been writing creative short stories and poetry since high school, but for some reason the words have a hard time flowing in the winter. It's almost like they're frozen solid, waiting to thaw out with the New England ice.

This is a huge problem I've been facing in the past few weeks. I want to write, but I have no idea where to even start. I'm doing an internship this semester with a group of amazing writers. Every single one of them has a unique style of writing and they inspire me to improve, to try harder, to feel less washed up.

For me, the more creative people I'm surrounded by, the more easily words flow. This of course brings me back to the hill. Just the other day we had 70 degree weather and sunshine in Massachusetts. Shouts of "I'll bring the blanket", or "just let me grab my guitar", could be heard in the halls of my dorm as everyone migrated outside. Even though it has snowed in MA since then, the signs of spring remain.

Everyone is feeling antsy. Acoustic guitars echo in the hallways. Open Mic nights are popping up left and right. Everyone is getting ready for spring break and warm enough weather to through parties in the daylight. While everyone's running around getting ready to turn up, I'm sharpening my pencils and digging out some sandals.

If you need me world, I'll be sitting under a tree somewhere scratching poems into my notebook while some artistic soul strums out the soundtrack to the world's greatest sunset.