What a very strange little girl
So I spent my day thinking and scribbling in bright purple pen, because that's what I do. The math problems were repetitious and cathartic, and I loved the austerity they brought to me, that state where there's only pencil smoke and a whiteness of someone who doesn't need to think, but the scribbles do all the carrying.
It's funny how well I get along with myself when I don't think and let my hands do everything.
I'm really not quite sure where I am right now.
That's wrong.
I am in the library, the Library Media Centre (because we must ALWAYS be politically correct, lovelies), in a chair with my legs crossed, and I love this position because it is comfortable, and it always makes my legs fall asleep.
I like my legs when they're asleep.
I walked in here, and the carpet is reflected in the glass that lines the walls, and my shoes walked right across the glass and I watched them like they didn't belong to me, and that made me happy, like it was reeling film of someone's shoes who weren't mine and who didn't know me at all.
I think the windows are ironic.
Do you know that most libraries are shut in? Really, what's with that? The idea is that it's a place for learning and expansion and the growth of your world so much that it bleeds at the edges and you don't know where yours stops and everyone else's begins.
But there are never any windows. You can't see the world at all. It's just you and floors and walls and the claustrophobia that's complimentary with a place so big that you can't see from edge to edge and it's shutting shutting shutting you in.
And today I think I'm going mad, and I love it.
So who am I to speculate, you ask we, and us answers: you aren't. What you cannot change, you must not believe. If you do not believe, you shall not question. If you do not question, you cannot change.
Sit tight, my beauties. The hourglass WILL run out, and we will see if the ruby slippers work. What fancies, if the magic is truly in your toes.
Gray is not in the mood list.
It's funny how well I get along with myself when I don't think and let my hands do everything.
I'm really not quite sure where I am right now.
That's wrong.
I am in the library, the Library Media Centre (because we must ALWAYS be politically correct, lovelies), in a chair with my legs crossed, and I love this position because it is comfortable, and it always makes my legs fall asleep.
I like my legs when they're asleep.
I walked in here, and the carpet is reflected in the glass that lines the walls, and my shoes walked right across the glass and I watched them like they didn't belong to me, and that made me happy, like it was reeling film of someone's shoes who weren't mine and who didn't know me at all.
I think the windows are ironic.
Do you know that most libraries are shut in? Really, what's with that? The idea is that it's a place for learning and expansion and the growth of your world so much that it bleeds at the edges and you don't know where yours stops and everyone else's begins.
But there are never any windows. You can't see the world at all. It's just you and floors and walls and the claustrophobia that's complimentary with a place so big that you can't see from edge to edge and it's shutting shutting shutting you in.
And today I think I'm going mad, and I love it.
So who am I to speculate, you ask we, and us answers: you aren't. What you cannot change, you must not believe. If you do not believe, you shall not question. If you do not question, you cannot change.
Sit tight, my beauties. The hourglass WILL run out, and we will see if the ruby slippers work. What fancies, if the magic is truly in your toes.
Gray is not in the mood list.