chickadee: ....

Wednesday, May 27

....

i don't like leaving, whether it's me or someone else, and leaving from next to me, or leaving from far from me. i just don't like leaving.

back to work for 2 days. it's been better than i was expecting. the only thing making it a little less fun is the looming feeling of needing to fit many things into the few nighttime hours i have before taryn leaves for india. WHAT i am fitting in to those hours i have no idea at this point. as i said, looming.

in other news, i am going to visit for 8 days in july. those will be 8 days of heaven. i am so excited.

i am excited to hopefully reconnect with my friends from home a little more now that i am in a routine. i miss them.

i am also excited about my grad party this friday night. i haven't seen everyone for so long. it will be a wonderful delight to have them all here at the same time in a happy atmosphere. yay.

sorry the posts lately haven't been great. i'll get more lyric and poetic as time goes on. i promise i'll try.

1 comment:

Taryn Lamp said...: it WILL be eight days of heaven. i am so excited.
and girl. we will fit in everything you need. because i need it too. morning coffee and reading. movies. i believe i have a fashion show to put on. :D i love you.; May 27, 2009 at 11:58 PM

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words.

Why are we inspired by another person's courage? Maybe because it gives us the sweet and genuine surprise of discovering some trace, at least, of the same courage in ourselves.
-Laurence Shames

Art offers the possibility of love with strangers.
-Walter Hopps

And I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, and the round ocean, and the living air, and the blue sky, and in the mind of men: A motion and a spirit, that impels all thinking things, all objects of all thought, and rolls through all things.
-William Wordsworth

For I have known them all already, known them all; Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all --- The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, and when I am formulated sprawling on a pin, when I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, then how should I begin to spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume? And I have known the arms already, known them all --- Arms that are braceleted and white and bare [But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!] Is it perfume from a dress that makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin?
-T.S. Eliot (The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock)

All of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon, instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.
-Dale Carnegie

Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds.
-Percy Bysshe Shelley