Anthem
the birds, they sang at the break of day
start again, I heard them say
don't dwell on what has passed away
or what is yet to be
...
ring the bells that still can ring
forget your perfect offering
there is a crack in everything
that's how the light gets in
- Leonard Cohen
Reading back through my old entries here, I hardly recognize myself.
It's been a long time.
I'm a little older, maybe even a little wiser, a little more quiet, much more private.
I still laugh as loud and smile as easily, I'm still just as madly in love with life and adventure as ever, but it's tempered, now.
On the surface, not much has changed, with the exception of my brilliantly colored hair, which fell by the wayside two years ago (with the exception of a brief stint as Meggy Bluehair in December 2009).
I'm living in Southern California with my boyfriend of four years and a fiendish little tabby-cat named Kaylee.
I graduated from college with my Bachelor's degree nearly a year ago.
My post-college plans were derailed (as plans so often are) by the serious case of Lyme disease I've been battling for a year and a half, which wasn't properly diagnosed until last August.
For now, and the next few months, my job is simple: rest, take my medication, and recover, which is a far cry from working for a biotech corporation and applying for grad school. I've been going a mile a minute for the last four years, and it feels strange to have to slow down and take it easy like this.
I've never been good at patience or sitting still.
For whatever reason, my life has taken a completely unforeseen and unexpected path. I have no choice but to go along for the ride with an open heart, and try not to go too stir-crazy in the interim.
I have so many stories to tell, but in the interest of this entry not becoming a manuscript, I'll leave it here for now.
start again, I heard them say
don't dwell on what has passed away
or what is yet to be
...
ring the bells that still can ring
forget your perfect offering
there is a crack in everything
that's how the light gets in
- Leonard Cohen
Reading back through my old entries here, I hardly recognize myself.
It's been a long time.
I'm a little older, maybe even a little wiser, a little more quiet, much more private.
I still laugh as loud and smile as easily, I'm still just as madly in love with life and adventure as ever, but it's tempered, now.
On the surface, not much has changed, with the exception of my brilliantly colored hair, which fell by the wayside two years ago (with the exception of a brief stint as Meggy Bluehair in December 2009).
I'm living in Southern California with my boyfriend of four years and a fiendish little tabby-cat named Kaylee.
I graduated from college with my Bachelor's degree nearly a year ago.
My post-college plans were derailed (as plans so often are) by the serious case of Lyme disease I've been battling for a year and a half, which wasn't properly diagnosed until last August.
For now, and the next few months, my job is simple: rest, take my medication, and recover, which is a far cry from working for a biotech corporation and applying for grad school. I've been going a mile a minute for the last four years, and it feels strange to have to slow down and take it easy like this.
I've never been good at patience or sitting still.
For whatever reason, my life has taken a completely unforeseen and unexpected path. I have no choice but to go along for the ride with an open heart, and try not to go too stir-crazy in the interim.
I have so many stories to tell, but in the interest of this entry not becoming a manuscript, I'll leave it here for now.