Thursday

There's something about boxes that always makes me sad. It seems like I've moved almost every eight months during the last four years, but the process has yet to seem less daunting. I'm not sure if it's the physical act: the box cuts, the lifting of furniture, the dividing of the kitchenware; or if it's the task of metaphorically putting your entire self into the back of a truck, having only to de-rumple it in a new place. 

It's always easier to pack than it is to make yourself at home. There is something about a well-worn room that screams, "I AM COMFORTABLE HERE," whereas it takes me months to put everything in it's perfect spot in each new space. I mull over it for ages – photo there, pencils here, no the other way around – until it aligns with my perfectly balanced mental picture of bedroom harmony. 

Here's to coming back out of my box unrumpled. 

On social awareness

Who says we're a post-activism generation?

I woke up to my favorite song.

Just picked up Lightning Dust's new album "Infinite Light," and I'm loving it, this track especially.

The Sentence Game: A Porch Story

When the moon was full we danced naked, basking in the light that, surprisingly, made us climb trees and jump from one to the other. Then out of the blue sky, came a bat black as night water. It screeched as it soared, singing, "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts." Damn. It was scary. Out of the woods came the bat's best friend, werewolf man. The bat took Liz away, Leah rode the werewolf following, so Sarah, Sarah P., Jill and Allie called their unicorns to follow. Afterwards we all took to the skies, swooping in and out of a dirigible. 

The six authors of this awkwardly wonderful piece of fiction would like to acknowledge the following people, factors and inanimate objects: PBR, Onyx the cat, new haircuts, porch weather and Polaroids.  

Some days just feel like this.

Wind me up,

wind me up

and spin me round.

On ominous wall art

"This was the year her mind went south." 

- Spray painted to a brick wall I stopped in front of due to alley-way congestion. Oh boy. 

On safety

"You don't need it. If you fall it won't help you much." 

- Said about my seat belt by the carney operating the ferris wheel at the Monroe County Fair with a slow drawl and side of animosity.