new things...
Here begins an outlet to find myself. I am not lost, I have just forgotten many of the silly quirky things that are me, one of them being my tenacity for ramblings. So, this will be an excellent way to remember some of the little parts of me that are stuck behind my grown-up life brain cells.
It is weird to type a journal- i am used to looking back through pages marked with angry scratchy letters and smeared ink from falling tears. I can tell what was going on without reading a word. Is that weird to have different handwriting for different moods? I have neater writing when I am happy, and sloppy writing when I am upset. I guess I am either writing to remember or forget and the things I want to remember I take my time and think about them again as I write, while the things I try to forget I let them spill out and scratch them deep into the paper with my pen and hope they stay there and not in my head. I leave them to work themselves out and seldom go back and read the words of my angry and hurt entries.
Well, I spent some time with Lee at Taco Bell and had my newest addiction Chicken Quesadillas-yummy in my tummy. I love him and want the best for him, but he does such silly things. I know he wants his life to be good, but the choices he makes don't seem so good. It is not my place to judge, but I just wish he could be happy.
Mark is going crazy on his bass practicing in the other room. He is rather obsessed with it, I think. I wish he could just do it because he loves it and not for the purpose of getting so good and so fast. He tries to be free, but how is that free to practice and do exercises? I don't understand.
I am sitting here with Harriett, and I love her so much. She is so loving and beautiful. She makes my life so happy so often.
wispy feathers
sighing softly
sleeping contently
faithful friend
little treasure
love me forever.
It is weird to type a journal- i am used to looking back through pages marked with angry scratchy letters and smeared ink from falling tears. I can tell what was going on without reading a word. Is that weird to have different handwriting for different moods? I have neater writing when I am happy, and sloppy writing when I am upset. I guess I am either writing to remember or forget and the things I want to remember I take my time and think about them again as I write, while the things I try to forget I let them spill out and scratch them deep into the paper with my pen and hope they stay there and not in my head. I leave them to work themselves out and seldom go back and read the words of my angry and hurt entries.
Well, I spent some time with Lee at Taco Bell and had my newest addiction Chicken Quesadillas-yummy in my tummy. I love him and want the best for him, but he does such silly things. I know he wants his life to be good, but the choices he makes don't seem so good. It is not my place to judge, but I just wish he could be happy.
Mark is going crazy on his bass practicing in the other room. He is rather obsessed with it, I think. I wish he could just do it because he loves it and not for the purpose of getting so good and so fast. He tries to be free, but how is that free to practice and do exercises? I don't understand.
I am sitting here with Harriett, and I love her so much. She is so loving and beautiful. She makes my life so happy so often.
wispy feathers
sighing softly
sleeping contently
faithful friend
little treasure
love me forever.