ew

It’s always so disappointing to feel sickness coming on.  To be sitting there and realize that you are just a little more tired than you should be, to be slightly sore when there is no reason, to feel a tightness in your chest and the slight discomfort in breathing.  And sleeping doesn’t help.  The sheets are too warm and the pillow is never quite fluffy enough.  And complaining doesn’t help.

words

“In every important way we are such secrets from each other, and I do believe that there is a separate language in each of us, also a separate aesthetics and a separate jurisprudence.  Every single one of us is a little civilization built on the ruins of any number of preceding civilizations, but with our own variant notions of what is beautiful and what is acceptable— which, I hasten to add, we generally do not satisfy and by which we struggle to live.  We take fortuitous resemblances among us to be actual likeness, because those around us have fallen also heir to the same customs, trade in the same coin, acknowledge, more or less, the same notions of decency and sanity.  But all that really just allows us to coexist with the inviolable, untraversable, and utterly vast spaces between us”.I wish I could take credit for such beautiful words but… -Marilynne Robinson, Gilead 

Top Down and I’m at it to Win

Let me, see you, get low… To sit here and have the Whistle song interrupted by Fur Elise…on the bells, is not something I was expecting, especially at midnight.

the water got so cold and we do lose what we don’t hold

I haven’t felt cold in quite a long time.  The normal shiver every once in a while cold isn’t what I’m talking about.  Not even the spine cold.  I’m thinking the cold that seems to freeze the cells of exposed skin.  The cold that hurts  The cold that you feel could kill you if you gave it time.  And it smells so good.  It smells like a cool glass of spring water.  Basically it’s beautiful.

Here’s to a pretty day

I’ve been reading a lot lately.  Text books, novels, classics, facebook walls, webcomics, blogs, and newsprint.  Whenever I read this much(which happens at least once every few months) I end up stuck within my thoughts.  I don’t usually mind.  I get over the fact that I’m feeling more about this fictional world than my own and move on.  But, this time I’m also stuck in one of my hyper social moods.  The two do not mix.  I can’t be a conversationalist and “thinker” at the same time.  Welcome to the world of wine and all of a sudden the two do mix.  I can sit and sip and take in the conversation, nod appropriately and still worry about a world of piety and struggle.  Thank goodness Im 21.  Here’s to the pretty part of the day.  I’m going to the river.marriedtothesea.com