WINTER IS EXPECTED SOON

There's a certain slant of light, on winter afternoons // That oppresses, like the weight of cathedral tunes.

Heavenly hurt it gives us; We can find no scar, // But internal difference where the meanings are.

None may teach it anything, 'tis the seal, despair, // An imperial affliction sent us of the air.

When it comes, the landscape listens, shadows hold their breath; // When it goes, 't is like the distance

On the look of death. -Emily Dickenson

GOING

It's usually great, but then sometimes it's just....this. 

AWKWARD SILENCE

There's nothing quite so peculiar nor as thrilling than an awkward silence. It really isn't silence at all. Your brain fills up with a million thoughts all bumping into each other and then completely disappearing, while the person next to you is experience quite the same thing. It's one of those full empty moments, and I think it's weird...and nice. 

SUMMER TO-DO LIST

Learn to do a handstand
Get acquainted with the top of my car
Learn to dive
Tackle the art of talking with strangers
Perfect the balance between soft and tough feet
Take a shower using an entire bottle of shampoo
Play sardines at least once
Write a song outside
Photograph my hometown
Purchase one good pair off heels
Go dancing
Throw away all of the stupid stuff
Break in my baseball glove
Tube the river....a lot
Catch a fish
Jump a waterfall
Sleep outside at least 5 times ( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

BEGINNING

I used to think I was going to grow up to be something extraordinary. But I'm finding out that it's the growing up itself that is rather extraordinary. 

Today I am home. I'll be home for 2 days. Everyone is here. Jake, Nate, Amy, Cyle, Anne... We're talking about summer things now. BB guns and camping. My friends are my home. We sip Irish beer in the pub and talk about getting old. I'm caught up in the suspense of it all; the getting-old, that is. That feeling that it'll never happen, and the wide-eyed, split-second realizations that it will and is. Like holding your breath off the diving board. 

I didn't like the Murphy's Stout. It tasted like art supplies. But the pita bread was to die for, and so was the weather.