memories seem to resonate in my mind. so tangible, i feel like they are happening all over again. can i ever get those things back?

poetry, you are to me.

lots of waiting...

taking pleasure in the little things.

calm after a storm.

yes, i am writing you down.
but you already know that... dont you?

the smells of summer,

"reflecting"

rapture,

i feel like i am finally away from that. but what really can i say?
freedom is not the point. freedom is not the point. freedom is not the point.

still here?
nothing is coming out right.

im sorry i have been away, i do that quite often. im not sure if i was ever missed or noticed... does anyone read this? oh well.
i have started life again in the same city that i have resided for the past four years. out of school, and finished obligatory studies, i have immersed myself into the world of work and early sleep. in my few moments off, i have been distracted by a knitting club (stitch and bitch), listening to my favourite songs over and over (on a good day), and a few period films (about poets, silk).
im still unsure of what i am doing here, and why i ever chose to stay - but im hoping this town will keep me safe and satisfied. i am working at a popular downtown cafe, and making a number of new friends and having fabulous chats with random strangers and regular customers. i this i have missed out on so much of this city while i was in school, so hopefully this year i will be able to re-discover it.
i just hope it is all worthwhile?

canoeing, 2010.

a booksale last saturday morning.

goodbye 37 wellington!

stolen flowers, $20 rug.
2 days until i am done my university degree.

march is the month where longing sets in.

my poor soul! oh, the things it has seen and done.
are my freedoms turning me into a slave?

just as it should be,

i never do well with things beyond my control. i like to remain conscious, with my feet planted firmly on the ground. problems with trust i guess, but that's okay! i do believe i am the best determinate for all things i.

and the days are not full enough
and the nights are not full enough
and life slips by like a field mouse
not shaking the grass.
-e.p.

i dont feel that way anymore! oh, life.

"nothing of me is original. i am the combined effort of everybody i've ever known."

my gut aches when it remembers all those perfect songs.
oh, how i miss my all-canadian, all-loving, music-making, guitar-picking friends.
why did i ever stop singing?

light,

wishing i knew morning well.

time goes toooo fast,

i like to pierce the skin of clementine’s, just so i can smell sweet orange all afternoon.
by the way: when i talk about one thing it usually means ive been thinking about it for a very, very long time.

i rhymed,

christmas is almost near/cheer/beer. i know this because i've smelly clementine hands.
wishing for a pup, cat, or baby anything to fill my christmas stocking. alas, my eyes, nose, ears and throat would not be too pleased.
but it would be nice to have something rely on me as i do so upon you.
hoping to one day take trains and automobiles to places i have never been. making plans! that will not happen, but its fun all the same.
i will have something interesting to say soon, i promise!
life, life, life. ohhh like a great novel.

fluttering on my finger

dreams of hummingbirds