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[su_tab title=”Ash’s Bio”]
[/su_tooltip]The picture on the left was taken on May 7, 2016, the day Ashleigh Nicole “Bear” Langbein graduated from Emory & Henry College. Ashleigh earned her Bachelor of Arts in Psychology, and had plans of continuing her education up to the Doctorial level. The heavens had other plans, however, and Ash’s physical life ended the morning of January 9, 2017, nine days shy of her 24th birthday.
Ashleigh was born in Orlando, Florida on January 18, 1993, and as a child of Navy parents, lived in South Carolina, Virginia, California, Hawai’i, and Texas. She graduated from high school in Poquoson, Virginia and moved to Hawai’i, planning to attend college on the islands. Shortly after arriving on Oahu, an opportunity to attend Emory & Henry College presented itself in the form of a Presidents Scholarship. So with three suitcases and one person she knew at Emory and Henry, she boarded an airplane just prior to Christmas 2011, and arrived at Emory & Henry to start classes in January 2012.
From the start, she loved Emory & Henry. Having grown up in or around large cities, she enjoyed the atmosphere and beauty of the surrounding area, the people, and the familial nature of the campus. During her first year, she performed in the school’s national participation in the election night performances of “44 Plays about 44 Presidents.” Ash loved theatre and moved toward the dramaturgical aspects in keeping in line with her love of research and facts. She rushed and became a sister in Pi Sigma Kappa, and later a member of Alpha Psi Omega. Although theatre and the arts were a passion, her academic drive kept taking her into the realm of psychology.
The above information tells you about Ashleigh’s life, but not about Ashleigh herself. Other information, such as winning the California State Science Fair for Psychology, being recognized by the American Psychological Association and Mensa during the same fair, tells you that she was a very bright person. Ash was also active for several years in the National Junior Leadership organization, attending conferences all over the United States to discuss leadership issues and challenges facing her generation. (Her favorite was in Boston, MA, where they spent a week in Salem discussing the witch trials.) This information tells you that not only was she bright, but that she had a desire to help others through understanding the cause and effect nature of political, social, and economic issues. What none of this still tells you is who she was, and why she mattered to the world and the Emory& Henry community and family.
Bear struggled over the years with the same issues that confront others her age such as acceptance, confidence, and finding direction and meaning. Moving every three to five years with the Navy meant having to start over again with these struggles with little to no safety net other than her parents. She often felt like she was always playing the role of the outcast, the person on the fringe of social constructs. Art and science were major escapes, and she used both to broaden her understanding of not only herself, but also of the social world she resided in. This gave her a strength and grace that allowed her to embrace who she was versus who others thought she should be. Ash would not be one to wear the same clothes that everyone else wore, and not because she wanted to specifically be different, but because she wanted to be who she was, to like what she liked, and more importantly, to show others it was okay to be whom they were.
When you look up at the night sky, what do you see? If you answer stars, the moon, clouds, or other visible object, then you only see the surface of what is out there. Ash loved the interconnected nature of the world, which begins with looking up at the stars. She would often wander the campus at night, with friends or people she had just met at a sorority/fraternity gathering or other event and show them the stars. Her excitement came not from simply looking up, but in recognizing what the night sky represented to her life and the Earth itself. That excitement is simply that we are all made of star-stuff. While that thought might make some feel small in comparison, or disconnected from their spiritual beliefs, Ash felt an empowerment of self and a closer connection to spirit. She loved the idea that the spiritual and the scientific both collide to create a web that connects each person not only to one another, but to everything in the universe. From this perspective, Bear looked at each person as a connected thing, and tried to always find beauty and understanding in the individual. For that, she was always excited to see a person, often acting like someone she had just seen five minutes earlier in a way that seems to imply she had not seen them in five years. She was always wishing for people to open their minds to possibilities, and worked to slowly chip away at closed or one-sided thinking. It is not that she wanted every person to think like she did, but she wanted people to at least consider alternates and/or conflicting opinions. She could often be sighted behind Hillman with a crowd of people around her having lengthy discussions (lasting for hours from what her E&H family has shared) on the arts, sciences, philosophy, politics, and even comic books. Her friends often commented that Ashleigh loved nothing more than the sharing and challenging of ideas between her connected worlds.
Above all things, if you are receiving aid from this grant, know that Ashleigh is so excited for you. She enjoyed helping others to the extent that she often forgot to take care of herself. Ash might not have time to stop for five minutes to eat something, but would have plenty of time to help someone with any- and everything they might need. Speaking of time, Ash did not prescribe to a linear interpretation of time. This is not to say that she did not understand how to use a clock and a calendar, only that Ashleigh time had its own unit of measure. During Ashleigh time, she might not have been going in the direction that a straight line of time would lead a person down, instead, Ashleigh time meandered, taking a much longer road. While her clock may seem inefficient or silly, she used her time to expand her understanding of the world through books, music, scientific research, self-reflection, and social assistance. When her clock caught up with everyone else’s, not only was she right where she was supposed to be in terms of the responsibilities and commitments that time dictates, but was more often than not, further ahead in her understanding of the world, and most importantly, the loudening of her voice.
Go out and change the world, but do it on your terms. Ashleigh would tell you to be different, to maintain your integrity to self above all others, and to use your voice to challenge and change the world for the better. This endowment was set up to continue Ashleigh’s work, to let her voice continue to rise through those who benefit from it, and to continue to connect her with her family at Emory & Henry. Ash would be so proud of you for moving towards this next step in your life. Along the way, remember that it is the little things in life that matter and must be remembered, for it is these little things that makes us who we are. More importantly is that it all these little things, a smile to a stranger, a tight Bear Hug when someone needs it, taking a moment to listen to a stranger, or simply acknowledging a feeling as valid can do more to change the world than the mightiest of intentions.[/su_tab]
[su_tab title=”The Poet”]Ash loved to read and write poetry. Here are some of her poems that she wrote:
- [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem1″][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Enchanting Snake[/su_button][/su_lightbox][su_lightbox_content id=”poem1″]
Submerged in this darkness,
I knew my days were done.
But. As I exhaled my last breathe,
A snake in the grass did come.Beaten and battered,
I inhaled my 1st new breathe.
I stood up. Weak in the knees,
Heart pounding in my chest.Now setting out on this voyage,
A strange quest – how could this be?
I must discover what this slithering snake
has just done to me.**Dedicated to my snake in the grass – from his monster.**[/su_lightbox_content]
- [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem2″] [su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”] A Promise [/su_button][/su_lightbox]
[su_lightbox_content id=”poem2″]
He exists.
Begot by the universe conspiring for his creation.
Unknown ventures, forgotten fortresses lay before him.
He does not know this.He is created.
Built up by his fellow man, who only break and bind.
Wishing for company – worthy company.
He has only his thoughts.He is strong.
Growing from tribulations, innate senses of the just.
Holding the mask is the hand of fate,
That he ceases to let go of.He is fighting.
Fighting against what a clouded mind claims “the world.”
What a dangerous fight he then faces,
Fighting against himself.He has fallen.
The public cries, dies, pines – save me.
Forsaken himself in the time Charon was most prepared.
He must learn.He is forlorn.
Choirs of cacophonies ring hard on the man’s ears,
as if hero and victim were the same.
United in such a soul.He is enlightened.
Driven to the light by echos of instinctive sights and sounds.
Egos, absorptions. Beaten. Internal dissonances. Captured.
They need him.He has risen.
Standing before a space of everlasting discord, disharmony, dysfunctions.
He slays, slashes the malevolent few – those that break and bind.
He stands victorious.He is righteous.
A man striving for a destiny already firmly in his grasp.
He did not realize fate’s hand was his own.
He is a hero.**Dedicated to Matthew Hanks.[/su_lightbox_content]
- [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem3″] [su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”] A House [/su_button][/su_lightbox]
[su_lightbox_content id=”poem3″]Ashes fallen down making a spotted pattern on the floor painting
my feet in the color of soot. Wanting to breathe smoke, and to
stop progress a little while longer. White walls plastered with
the grotesque with the waxes and wanes of ruthless violence.
An echo of the floorboards that I can not bare to hear.
I lay under the brittle ceiling letting the black and while cover
my hair, like an industrial snow. A constricting and choking feeling,
looking at those four walls. Confessions of a sociopath. Inside
the mind of the manipulator. Abducted I am to see these sites.
To welcome and understand. To watch and do nothing. *Written 7/10/2013[/su_lightbox_content] - [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem4″] [su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”] A Rose [/su_button][/su_lightbox]
[su_lightbox_content id=”poem4″]A Rose Of Futile as it may seem, with all these spaces in-between, As I sleep my
red dress on, and hum my scantily clad love song. A message smeared with
lipstick red, on the ground where she lay dead. A whisper of voices torn
from the others, I grit my teeth and the words I smother. I shove them
into my ears and mouth, trying to let the fury out. My legs exposed and
ripped to shreds, gives from for stockings in their stead. He grabs on
unknowingly clutching the scars, from the past like observing the stars.
After it’s done I’ll wipe of the debris, for he can’t touch what is the
“real” me. After the boy leaves my back will bleed, carrying the soul
inside of this abductee, for he touched the soul of another one, She’s
the one standing there with my red dress on.* Written 7/10/2013 **Not one of my best, I admit. But it came out and it’s here.[/su_lightbox_content] - [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem5″] [su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”] Scapegoat [/su_button][/su_lightbox]
[su_lightbox_content id=”poem5″]Let me be nieve.
Let me make my choice.
To not raise hands in reprieve
Or protest with my voice.Let me demonstrate my hate,
And strain my inner pride.
Let me decay at my own rate,
And send myself to die.Let me find what I’ll live without.
And to pursue the life I chose,
Let me decide what I’m all about.
I refuse to ever lose.Let me love who I decide to love,
But never let you too.
Let me believe that somethings above,
And let condemnation stew.Let me vote on who to rule me,
And complain all just the same.
Let me refuse the mirror to see,
Who the real one is to blame.***Wrote last night.
[/su_lightbox_content] - [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem6″] [su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”] They’re Only Instruments [/su_button][/su_lightbox]
[su_lightbox_content id=”poem6″]
31 July 2011
They’re Only Instruments.
I sit still – waiting with this dissonant rage.
Crescendoing, vibrating, pounding, and resonatingsmoke inside the hallow chamber of the self
I presume to be.
Oh, what a bitter orchestra.Furious winds, abused strings, seething brass,
and fuming percussion.
Plucked and stroked,
they perpetuate disdain.Soft air blown into the beast
who exhales a monstrous
bass of a noise.
All steaming inside a
nice, little frame.Shapely small voices become silent
while the larger rest on the cold ground.
Their wide openings welcome you.
Blow inside me, strike me,
use your fingers to make me shriek.
You’re in for a surprise.
[/su_lightbox_content] - [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem7″] [su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”] Plight of Dionysos [/su_button][/su_lightbox]
[su_lightbox_content id=”poem7″]A stinging revelation of all that’s good.
Shifting spaces, elongated distances
lengthening where a sought quest lies.It isn’t a quest just yet.
Merely this thing beyond the horizon,
This creature just beyond your reach.A creature of fortitude and unmanageable mass.
No one said this was a bad thing.
No one said it would be a burden.No one said it would be unwanted.
Unwelcomed.
Unendurable…and it isn’t.Then why is it so heavy?
This creature of goodness,
Of passion. Of love.The creature calls for you, yearning,
blowing its gusts through your insides,
Continuously flowing within.Its breath festers from your all,
growing with such intensity.
Such oppression. Such weight.Never again to experience that…
…unbearable lightness of being.
That whimsical feather of this world’s very presence.And who you are in it.
To become firmly planted on this Earth,
But stretch above and beyond the Gods.Somehow.
The creature’s murmurs, now music, are haunting,
embodying the songs you have yet to sing.Following with blind faith,
Orpheus’s persona becomes you,
and that…of his Eurydice.
[/su_lightbox_content] - [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem8″] [su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”] Labotomizing Labryinth [/su_button][/su_lightbox]
[su_lightbox_content id=”poem8″]
10 July 2011Get caught in this maze – they’ll let the right one in.
All that has once ended, must in turn begin.Turn corners, dart swiftly, always gaze straight ahead.
This Kafka-esque dream is but a God send.When a dead end is reached, flip the corners of these walls.
Send the damned place crashing, like fragile playing cards.Strip away the tiles from underneath your step.
The nature of this place will become easier to accept.Engage with all of the creatures you happen to meet here.
Dance with them – enjoy! Dismiss all of your fears.Any door you may reach has but one simple task.
Open whichever door you choose, just dispose of the mask.The knowledge you shall gain is boundless herein.
After all, what has ended, must in turn begin.** I must thank Matthew Hanks for assisting me a bit with this one – especially the title 🙂 Feedback is encouraged.
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- [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem9″] [su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”] Anew [/su_button][/su_lightbox]
[su_lightbox_content id=”poem9″]Silhouettes crashing against my own form.
Submerged in their likenesses,
I alone stand amongst the dank underbrush.Faces forcing themselves against my own features.
I am enough to stop their meek advances,
they become slower – weaker.Burnt hands smashing against my own grasp.
Becoming whole with every collision,
finding within each piece, an ash to caress.Bodies thrashing against my own physique.
Their fatalities claim me immortal,
against the fruition of frivolities.Words screaming against my own whispers.
The majority are but those that yell the loudest,
So I bellow my desires, my wishes, my needs beyond the masses.Eyes starring against my own gaze.
My view slicing past what once was,
giving a new weight to what will be.Lips pounding against my own mouth.
I push forward to wrap my tongue around life’s curses,
murmuring to myself – I should enjoy this.
–
I am a poet.
Refusal.
They will never have me.
[/su_lightbox_content] - [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem10″] [su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”] They Know Me [/su_button][/su_lightbox]
[su_lightbox_content id=”poem10″]Silhouettes crashing against my own form.
Submerged in their likenesses,
like a rose encased in the dank underbrush.
That sounds poetic.Faces forcing themselves against my own features.
I’m not enough to stop their painful advances,
they push further – and harder.
Yeah, that verse will do.Burnt hands smashing against my own grasp.
Turning into the ashes of a faint destiny,
hands holding it back from the path I chose.
I’m not sure about that.Bodies thrashing against my own physique.
Vicious imitations of those that were,
holding more weight than those that are.
I like that one.Words screaming against my own whispers.
The majority are but those that yell the loudest,
so my whispers are at their disposal.
I’m losing my flow here.Eyes pressing against my own stare.
They see what I wish,
My wish is to gaze beyond them.
That line was weak.Lips pounding against my own mouth.
Like daggers that ravish every delicate touch,
drink against drink – there is no more to taste.
It’s done.
–
I am not a poet.
Fine.
They can have me.
[/su_lightbox_content] - [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem11″] [su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”] Testimony of the Jesters [/su_button][/su_lightbox]
[su_lightbox_content id=”poem11″]The truth you desire is a line so cruel.
If fear keeps your hand, let me play the fool.One so true is surely nothing of worth,
no prestigious title or noble birth.
Only the fool’s card can this boy play,
small cap of bells bouncing to his sway.Seeking comfort in solace but stuffed with smiling faces,
forever to seek tongues of petty royal graces.
The truth told in jest – a principle of the masters,
staring through the crown. All but laughing matters.“Doth mine eyes playith tricks on me?”
-“Nay, I’m just a fool. I am what you see.”
[/su_lightbox_content] - [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem14″] [su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”] Remainders [/su_button][/su_lightbox]
[su_lightbox_content id=”poem14″]01 June 2011Remnants of a place,
a sight,
a sound.A scar on one’s cheek.
A bruise on one’s heel.
Follows as we walk,
we talk,
we breathe.Wondering back to previous times.
Some remembered.
Some forgotten.The remnants throb within
with a pain,
with a sting
sometimes nothing.But remains until the time it fades
in maybe hours.
Days.
Weeks.
Never.
[/su_lightbox_content] - [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem15″] [su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”] A Real Poets Embrace [/su_button][/su_lightbox]
[su_lightbox_content id=”poem15″]31 May 2011
A heart I assumed true was made of my own devices.
I have such an imagination.
Choosing to play the fool amongst a brigade of idiots,
beseeching me to believe their tales are just.Worthy company is a forgotten lore to me now.
Wasted on those pining for a play.
Well here’s your show!
The stage is mine but you pull the strings – my glorious puppet master.Make me dance. I dare you.
[/su_lightbox_content] - [su_lightbox type=”inline” src=”#poem16″] [su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”] What I Didn’t Want To Say [/su_button][/su_lightbox]
[su_lightbox_content id=”poem16″]
They say the true writer must have a plethora of experiences in life. Must know the in and out, everything about anything, the true nature of all thats around them – animate and inanimate. In my very few years of experience in this world, almost just 18 years, I’ve learned that this shouldn’t be the case. The absence of something can mean just as much as the presence of something. In my opinion, that same should be said in the realm of writing.Those in solitude, out of choice or by circumstance, have a unique outlook and have experienced different experiences – mainly internally – that an individual on the “outside world” may have no insight. I give you this boring detail of my viewpoint of the writers condition for no other reason than my own musings in hopes that you’ve actually read this so far and payed attention to the words being written. Hope is an astounding thing. It can keep some writers writing for years even with nothing to their name and nothing on their table but their very passion that should have provided sustenance. That life style must be terrifying, but on second thought, hopeful. A life of hope and imagination. Worry, yes, but we all worry even when we’ve reaped the fruit of our passions…or our obligations.And to be quite honest with you, dear reader, in truth I don’t really know why I’m writing this this very moment – especially this certain topic. Call it practice? A prelude? An expert? Nerves? Clearing my mind? Whatever you wish to label this I would try to keep in mind. This isn’t everything. It’s the absence of nothing,
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[su_tab title=”The Bibliophile”]Books played heavily into shaping her worldview, and if a book remained on her bookcase, then the story contain therein was one that struck a chord with her. Ash loved the written word and the recording of individual thoughts and ideas so that they could be shared with others over and over again, truly allowing the author to live forever. Her favorite books were often grounded in the transgressive or existential realm, but she loved a books on palm reading, the tarot, and physics as well. She felt so strongly about the sharing of thoughts and ideas that at the age of around 14, started crying when watching a documentary that showed book burning. It was from that point that she became interested in the why’s and how’s of social and psychological constructs in the shaping of the world. This led her to some of her favorite books and plays to include:
- [su_lightbox src=”https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Catcher_in_the_Rye”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Cather in the Rye[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox src=”https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fight_Club”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Fight Club[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox type=”iframe” src=”https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waiting_For_Godot”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Waiting for Godot[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox type=”iframe” src=”https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Midsummer_Night%27s_Dream”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]A Midsummer Night’s Dream[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox type=”iframe” src=”https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eurydice”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Eurydice[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox type=”iframe” src=”https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niche”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Works of Niche[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox type=”iframe” src=”https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michio_Kaku”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Michio Kaku[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox type=”iframe” src=”https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neil_Gaiman”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Neil Gaiman[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
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[su_tab title=”The Artist”]The Artist[/su_tab]
[su_tab title=”The Musician”]Music would be the single area of Ashleigh’s life that would connect her truly to everything she is, everything she loved, and how she created such a diverse family. Her musical tastes ran the gambit from classical to heavy metal to hardcore rap. To put this connection in perspective as it relates to Emory & Henry specifically, she chose her academic advisor based on a comment about a t-shirt for the band The Cure she was wearing one day. Additionally, Ash had a theory about being able to be friends with anyone wearing anything by the band Joy Division, and, putting theory to practice, made some of her best friends simply because they were wearing said shirt or patch. She learned to play violin due to a connection, both musical and emotional, made with Emilie Autumn during some tough times in high school. She picked up the ukulele due to her love of Amanda Palmer and her song Ukulele Anthem. (By the way, her ultimate “power couple” was when Palmer and Neil Gaiman were married.) To list all of the artists and songs that she loved would be an experiment in futility, but needless to say, she found that music connected everyone in a way that they could understand. She was always exploring new music, new genres, often finding connections with people centered on obscure bands and one-off songs. Although on the surface, this may seem simply mindless self-indulgence, Bear heard the words as poetry, with each song or note attempting to express the thoughts or ideas of the person(s) performing. What is more, she often commented that the music others like says more about who they really are as a person because the individual takes the lyrics or rhythm as a form of self-expression. There is not a single friend or family member that doesn’t have a musical connection with Ash. What is more, she shared so much of her musical meanderings with others, which opened them up to new ideas (poetry and rhythm), that they continue to share new music with her on various social media pages as well as her parents, who shared the same passion of music with her.
- [su_lightbox src=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ZwQRCkKxNE”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Huey Lewis and the News – I Want A New Drug[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox src=”https://youtube.com”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Song 2[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox src=”https://youtube.com”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Song 3[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox src=”https://youtube.com”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Song 4[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox src=”https://youtube.com”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Song 5[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox src=”https://youtube.com”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Song 6[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox src=”https://youtube.com”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Song 7[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox src=”https://youtube.com”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Song 8[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
- [su_lightbox src=”https://youtube.com”][su_button background=”#6801f8″ color=”#ffffff” icon=”icon: paw”]Song 9[/su_button][/su_lightbox]
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[su_tab title=”The Thesbein”]Double Majored description here
High School
Description
College
Description
Comic Con
Hobbies Love for sci-fi Description
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