Five minutes, any day. Spent writing—something anything not for anyone anything no edits no outlines no plans no correction, this is where it goes.enjoy.

Monday, February 27, 2012

February Sunshine


I love days like this.
Days when you wake up, and the air is fresh and it feels new and it’s chilly, but not so chilly that you want to stay in bed.
But you do anyway, for a little longer, and when you wake up you feel alive because you’ve finally gained those lost hours back.  And you sit up, and stretch, and the sun has it’s hand on your blinds, asking you to open up and let him come and say hello.
So you do, of course you do, and you let in the February sun and look out your window.  The trees are tall and the sky is blue and there’s not a cloud in it.  The trees don’t even look dead without their leaves--- they just look like they’re resting, or standing there, enjoying the light and the morning.
There’s a silence even when the cars drive by.
And the light is just so beautifully everywhere that you want to sing.  And you don’t really have anywhere to go, but you get up and put on something nice just because you want to, just because you can and it’s a nice day, a very nice day.  You don’t even have to put on socks, even though your fingers are cold against your skin.
It’s a really lovely morning.
And it’s mornings like this you can forgive February for the rest of the days it gives you, the cold salty grimy slushy days and the gross icy days.  Because every once in a while, the sun peeks through.  And when it does, it’s really something beautifully special.

STOP

  50th post~ ^___^

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Feelings

There are some feelings that can be described by words.  There are some emotions that have names.  There are those that are called 'happy', named 'sad', described as 'excited'.  They have titles.  They have forms.  They have shapes and definite shades to them.  They're the definite, the solid.

And then there are feelings.  There are true, exuberant, overflowing feelings that have no name.
Listening to Illuminate and the mist of purple that comes over my brain, the feeling of sitting and making bracelets with a best friend, both age seven, listening to David Crowder on a Sunday afternoon.
The sleepy feeling that settles somewhere in the back of my brain when I think of that day when I had nothing to do.  That one specific day and the freezing there was on my mind.
The thrill that comes through me at the thought of mountains.  There aren't any words for that one, just a feeling of majestic, natural (meaning of nature, you know) colors (so many colors!) and feeling (all kinds-- absolutely all--) and height and passion and wonder and no, there just really aren't any words for this at all--

There just aren't.  There are feelings with words, and then there are emotions, true emotions, and there aren't any words or any reason or shape to them, just smoky, dancing color and vibrant taste and the most vivid feeling that absolutely nothing can capture.

STOP

 There are some things I wish to communicate and I just can't, because I'm a person.  There aren't any words for this.  None.
It . . .is slightly disappointing.

But then I'm glad there are aspects to humanity I haven't got figured out yet.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Sweaters and Stripes

Grey and teal stripes, cinched at the waist.  A brown suede&knit sweater plethorated with grommits.  Flare jeans.  Grey mary-jane-esque flats. Hair parted to the most lefterly side of your scalp possible, and a messy-but-slightly-sophisticated bun. Mismatching earrings, one dangling, one long.

A grey cardigan.  Navy and striped shirt.  Skinny jeans.  Classic chucks.   Messy bun, bangs hanging to the side of the face. Dangling locket.  Stud earrings.

A green, flowy sweater. It's three-quarter length. An orange and cream striped tank, and a grey one.  A big black belt.  A black and grey pattern-mottled scarf. Hair down in curly waves, a black headband. Seven bracelets, hemp, rubber, beaded, what have you. Again the skinny jeans, again the flats.

I don't really plan my outfits but February seems to be of stripes and sweaters.  I want desperately a pair of red skinny jeans to wear with my blue and tan striped shirt but I think it's only because I have an image of a singer that I love wearing something similar.

I don't really have a style at all.  I just throw things on.  Grab something from my mom's closet.  I have a darling friend who seems to have a very particular, lovely and lacy style that I can't get enough of.  But for me?  Let's rummage and see what we end up with.

STOP

Don't really know why I felt like writing about clothes.  I do like the way I've been parting my hair lately, maybe that was instrumental in its making.

Can't find a picture of the singer.  It's Louis Tomlinson, dontcha know, from 1D, but you actually probably didn't because I'm so hipster.  Or something. (Not really.)

I swear there is one, though.  It's going to bother me now.

I also don't know if plethorated is a word, but it should be, for I use it adroitly almost every day.

Anyway.  Happy Thursday.  Sorry I haven't posted in a while. :]

EDIT: I FOUND ITTTT
 He's on the leftest left.  Red jeans and a blue and white striped shirt.  I knew it. :D

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Cloudy with a High of 75

Where has the sunshine gone?

I don't feel as though it's completely disappeared.  On the contrary, often I often see it peek out from behind the fluffy clouds covering the sky and I can feel its fingers brush against my face before it slips back into hiding out of sight.

There is still sunshine.  I just don't know where it's gone.

It's not like there's no brightness.  There's plenty.  There's gallons.  I've just been busy, and business doesn't let you stop to look up into the big blue sky for rays of light before tugging at your wrist to keep on following it.

I don't think I need sunshine all of the time anyway.  It's all right to have a rainy day.  It's all right to sit in the shade of the clouds.

Or work in it.

The sunshine never left completely.  It's just not here presently.  It's behind the scenes, underfoot, hiding in the littlest things.  And I know it's there.  I'm content with this.

It just hasn't been coming out to play.  And so I can't write about what I can't see.  What I can't feel.

It's been cloudy lately.

But they're terrifically beautiful clouds.

STOP