when a song has you closin' your eyes, takin' a deep breath and feelin' like you're already there

maybe you are

maybe this is it

the moment you've been waiting for

is the moment you are living in

the joy in the view.

I am learning to paint with water color. The fluidity of the medium draws me at a time when my life is in flux and very light. I am completely and utterly in love with life.

Blabberings of a girl.

"thinkin' about how long it takes to cross the ocean while you wait"

"how tough could that balsawood body be?"

"if we are going to die let's die looking like a peruvian folk band"

"God respects us when we work, but He loves us when we dance"

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Wrapped in layers

I sip warm tea

Gaze out the window

And through the tree

Big harvest moon

Staring down at me.

--------------------------------------

I don't want to say anything

I just want to curl into your side and feel you next to me

I don't want to say anything

I just want to hold your hand and walk down the street

I don't want to say anything

I just want to read next to you in a park

I don't want to say anything

I just want to sit next to you and drink coffee

I don't want to say anything

I just want to kiss you

I don't want to say anything

I just want to look in your eyes

I don't want to say anything

I just want to reach out and know you'll be there

I don't want to say anything

I just want to be where you are

I don't want to say anything.

----------------------------------------------------------

16 days until I board a plane

i observe the self.

i observe the self-serving generation of want. of lust. of excess. of costumes and flattery. crossing culture, nation, race, and age. uniting the masses under the flag of themselves. stopping for a coffee, a beer, a smoke, a social justice cause that'll grab their attention for as long as it is cool and then dropped for the next fad of purses made by crack babies in New Delhi. proud of their creativity and ingenuity in spite of...what? their education? their cushy apartment with a view of the sea? their vintage clothes bought for more than they're worth worth to look ironic and cool? their ability to purchase their clothes, their coffee, their smokes, their booze? and yet...i am them...i fly my self-serving flag as i drink my coffee at my sidewalk cafe complete with ironic barista and gluten-free toast. and i avert my eyes with a half wary smile from the people who really need, who really want. i tightrope the line between us and them, between caring and not as another boy in girl pants walks by confidently unaware as i sit in question. and i am no better with my flag of excess, of judgement, of over priced, of want. because i would put on a costume and rabble rouse with the best of them if the situation was different, if the company was someone else.

Chapter one: it was a sunny December summer and I began working on chapter two. Dreaming of your blue eyes and resting in your arms. What better way to begin and what a better way to end where we all want to be where out love began when it all comes to an end.

an outside observation.

i say lots of things are my favorite and the best part of this is that i genuinely mean it. if i had to list things that are my favorite i could go on forever because i guess that is just how i see the world. people are good and everything has the potential to be my favorite and i welcome everything onto my favorite list. i think this is why i get so hurt when something or someone does not meet this potential...

new favorite things you ask?

-a purple shirt with a crazy looking deer on it (currently wearing and loving)

-sentences that start with "another candidate for our top songs featuring whistling"

-"I like You" by Sandol Stoddard Warburg

- buttons made into earrings

- Kiss Each Other Clean by Iron&Wine

- Four Quartets by T.S. Elliot

half-started, half-finished

I have developed a collection of half-started, half-finished poems.

And a collection of just started books.

And new music obsessions.

A coffee addiction in the mid-afternoon.

And a lot of half thought out plans.

That's life.

My half-started, half-finished life.

I'm stuck in the middle and yet so close to the end.

my writing man.

my love is currently in South Korea. he is pretty amazing like that. for those of you who don't know he is an aspiring writer and i absolutely love the voice that comes through in his writing. he has written a few journal entries in regards to his trip, here are few of my favorites:

"Tonight I was reminded for the first time in years that somewhere along journeys such as this we come into contact with beings only loosely affiliated with the terra firma. Sitting in a chair somewhere separated from concepts of time as we have come to know it, looking into peoples' eyes as something starts to break loose from them, something uncomfortably true, wrapping scaled hands around pillars that could never exist in the tangible, but must exist somewhere. In that place and this one, we have something equally intangible yet unshakebly real moving on ahead to meet it so long as we're not charging ahead alone. Everything in this reality seems to contradict itself, yet something holds it together anyways."

"In other news, it's interesting being on the other end of the immigrant experience for once. We are thunderous Americans dancing into your Lotte Marts with all the grace of a dying Mammoth. Your words and symbols mean nothing to us. I try to act out what kind of food I think you might be selling."

i can't wait to see the plethora of amazingness that is going to come from him. i love him.