Cambios
Thank you to everyone who sent me a birthday greeting. It always seems to coincide with me settling into a new place; at times I’ve felt like a forgotten little bird. So thank you, thank you.
November is a sling shot month. It comes and goes before I am able to draw in a single crisp breath, startling with icy edge of winter. For me, November carries an air of remembering and realising that it is possible to look fondly at the past, without wishing for it in the present. Memories are resurfacing with a vengeance; largely due to MySpace (www.myspace.com/elphinimp, for any other MySpacers out there). I've come across people I'd long forgotten, some I am joyful to remember, others whom I look at now and think, hmm. Waters better left undisturbed.
I can’t seem to wrap myself around enough projects as of late. At home, graphite and paper, letters and ink, wooden beads and
garnets like drips of jelly on the floor. My hands are seldom idle anymore. Both of the classes I wanted to enroll in (painting and
photography) are filled; sign-language not offered next semester, so I’m seeking alternate choices. I’m not ready to be finished with school. I've been sketching again. It's a hobby that drowns and resurrects regularly in my life. In youth, I drew horses. Recent months have been a fascination of faces, of the way lights and shadows play over noses and mouths and eyes. I make no claims to be a good drawer, but I do it for no reason than my own growth and amusement. It's a shame that in many of my hasty needs to rid myself of "stuff," I also tossed old sketchpads, thinking I'd never want to look at those terrible drawings again. Now I wish I had them for comparison. My flute should arrive soon, an impulsive purchase stemming again from a talent wasted in youth that I am now trying to reclaim.
I feel as though life is about to undergo a change, because I’ve been in that phase where I’m writing and calling everyone. Letters to my old pen pals, receivng letter and CDs from logan, a conversations with a stealthy lynx, trading voicemail, email, thoughts. I think a cliff is about to crumble. Not disastrously, simply new and differnet scenery. In the forest I look at change and recognize it as natural. A forest is forever eating itself and giving birth. It lives eternally through change. Mama quail, trying to gather my fledglings into one place but they keep scattering. Today I'll drive 6 hours to celebrate belated birthdays with a red-breasted bird, then head south to see my family for a while. Time, it goes, and I pay no mind till I realize how quickly its passed. Write to me. Sing to me. Just don't pass through my life unnoticed.
November is a sling shot month. It comes and goes before I am able to draw in a single crisp breath, startling with icy edge of winter. For me, November carries an air of remembering and realising that it is possible to look fondly at the past, without wishing for it in the present. Memories are resurfacing with a vengeance; largely due to MySpace (www.myspace.com/elphinimp, for any other MySpacers out there). I've come across people I'd long forgotten, some I am joyful to remember, others whom I look at now and think, hmm. Waters better left undisturbed.
I can’t seem to wrap myself around enough projects as of late. At home, graphite and paper, letters and ink, wooden beads and
garnets like drips of jelly on the floor. My hands are seldom idle anymore. Both of the classes I wanted to enroll in (painting and
photography) are filled; sign-language not offered next semester, so I’m seeking alternate choices. I’m not ready to be finished with school. I've been sketching again. It's a hobby that drowns and resurrects regularly in my life. In youth, I drew horses. Recent months have been a fascination of faces, of the way lights and shadows play over noses and mouths and eyes. I make no claims to be a good drawer, but I do it for no reason than my own growth and amusement. It's a shame that in many of my hasty needs to rid myself of "stuff," I also tossed old sketchpads, thinking I'd never want to look at those terrible drawings again. Now I wish I had them for comparison. My flute should arrive soon, an impulsive purchase stemming again from a talent wasted in youth that I am now trying to reclaim.
I feel as though life is about to undergo a change, because I’ve been in that phase where I’m writing and calling everyone. Letters to my old pen pals, receivng letter and CDs from logan, a conversations with a stealthy lynx, trading voicemail, email, thoughts. I think a cliff is about to crumble. Not disastrously, simply new and differnet scenery. In the forest I look at change and recognize it as natural. A forest is forever eating itself and giving birth. It lives eternally through change. Mama quail, trying to gather my fledglings into one place but they keep scattering. Today I'll drive 6 hours to celebrate belated birthdays with a red-breasted bird, then head south to see my family for a while. Time, it goes, and I pay no mind till I realize how quickly its passed. Write to me. Sing to me. Just don't pass through my life unnoticed.