By next Sunday I would like to:
1) Finish reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
2)Find a home for Jesse and I
3)Finish a draft of my proposal
4)Get one to two steps completed toward my Yoga certification
5) Tackle 1 of my 5 library books
6) Get dressed every day
7)Do laundry
8)Meditate before going to sleep, every night
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Goodbye
Today they said their goodbyes. Tears in their throats knowing that this goodbye carried with it, a possible finality. A forced painful nine month separation into a land where many a husband have never returned. She is left sitting, waiting, and loving him from afar.
In this same day another farewell existed. She spoke to him, believing he could hear her. Her words were filled with a subtle mix of desperation and the truest of love. Nothing more does she want than to have her lover grow alongside her. To face a world without him is bleak and gray. Here she is left with a heart that is broken.
Shalom.
In this same day another farewell existed. She spoke to him, believing he could hear her. Her words were filled with a subtle mix of desperation and the truest of love. Nothing more does she want than to have her lover grow alongside her. To face a world without him is bleak and gray. Here she is left with a heart that is broken.
Shalom.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
My list of awesome things.
1. Most kittens
2. Reading books in a bubble bath
3. Puppets
4. The internet
5. Crushes
6. Nick and Jesse cuddling on my floor
7. Pink sunsets
8. Walking adventures
9. PacMan
10. Magic
2. Reading books in a bubble bath
3. Puppets
4. The internet
5. Crushes
6. Nick and Jesse cuddling on my floor
7. Pink sunsets
8. Walking adventures
9. PacMan
10. Magic
Math
If I am a sum of all things that have led to this point.
Does that mean that I am a mathematical equation?
If so, I have control over at least one of the variables. Do I not?
I am the result of the equality of two ever changing expressions.
These words lead me no closer to the understanding of anything.
Does that mean that I am a mathematical equation?
If so, I have control over at least one of the variables. Do I not?
I am the result of the equality of two ever changing expressions.
These words lead me no closer to the understanding of anything.
Monday, December 19, 2011
The observed life
There are many things I don't do enough of and some I do way too much of. Lately, reading and writing have fallen dismally low on my list.
However, I suppose Christmas vacation is the perfect time to catch up on all those things.
I'm reading a book right now about several characters, some perfect strangers, who live alongside one another. One of the characters lives a quiet life. He has a relationship with one human, the neighbor who lives above him. He fears he will live the unobserved life. That all things and memories from his life will be lost to oblivion when he reaches death.
For some reason that thought stuck with me. Why? I do not worry about living a life alone, void of friendships and beautiful relationships, but perhaps its more my memory, or lack there of, that I worry about.
Once upon a time I was an obsessive journaler, documenting every small detail of my day. Today I write notes here and there, that so often end up in trashcans or in stacked up post-it note piles. I know I love life, but I don't often take the time to write stories of my day.
Mission: Document more life.
However, I suppose Christmas vacation is the perfect time to catch up on all those things.
I'm reading a book right now about several characters, some perfect strangers, who live alongside one another. One of the characters lives a quiet life. He has a relationship with one human, the neighbor who lives above him. He fears he will live the unobserved life. That all things and memories from his life will be lost to oblivion when he reaches death.
For some reason that thought stuck with me. Why? I do not worry about living a life alone, void of friendships and beautiful relationships, but perhaps its more my memory, or lack there of, that I worry about.
Once upon a time I was an obsessive journaler, documenting every small detail of my day. Today I write notes here and there, that so often end up in trashcans or in stacked up post-it note piles. I know I love life, but I don't often take the time to write stories of my day.
Mission: Document more life.
Monday, December 5, 2011
choir boys
This evening I stopped and shivered against a brick wall and listened to the choir boys through the open stain class windows.
Another taste of Portland's magic.
Another taste of Portland's magic.
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