Deuces

You are so interesting to me, and it's odd, isn't it? That we could be so incredibly different and view the world through different lenses and not agree on much of anything. How did you get to become my friend? Silly banter. That's all it took. And I have so many wonderful friends that I adore and love, and you are among them. But you probably don't know it. Or maybe you do because I think it's an unspoken thing we have. If I could tell you right now I would tell you I appreciate you, That I respect you (even though you're wrong most of the time), and I miss you, too, even though you're not so far away. In an alternate universe we would have together time and more banter and more disagreements (on all the things that you are completely wrong about) and there would be time for telling you things that are better said in person and there would just be, more. But without the more I watch from afar the life you deserve unfold. It's m...

You know what I think? I think Justin Timberlake is trying to be too much like Robin Thicke.  I mean, like, the new album's alright but I just don't like how he's jocking Robin Thicke's style and it's like, so obvious. I am convinced. Or, Ariel has me convinced. I hang on to every thread of her music critiques, one of the only saving graces I have for knowing what's up with what and who and this and that. And even though I never fully comprehended what it meant to get 'hyphy', I at least know the word because of her. She teaches me so much. And if too many days pass without seeing her I tend to become anxious. Literally, anxious. I can't focus and I can't stop thinking of her and wondering what she's up to and if she's alright and if she's having fun and being youthful or working too many hours or still far too independent and strong for her own good. If you take a moment and think about the most compassionate hu...

I love this walk... Most summer nights we take this walk/run and half-way through I have sincere regrets that I didn't take a shorter route through the neighbourhood. I get a little weary. But only here can I take a photo like this...

When I was a young girl I loved to read and then I liked to write.   And nothing I write is all that interesting,   and likely not impressive,   and I like to carry-on,   and sometimes be brief   and usually be very vague,   or specific,   I guess.   But I sleep better after I've written,   odd as that sounds....   Like a deep sigh of relief,   like post-workout bliss for many, many people who I will never be like because after I've worked out I am usually just saying 'Thank You, Jesus, for ending that work-out".   But if I can put into words a little bit of nothing with a dash of nonsense and a glimmer of humor I have completed my day and have relinquished the stress and the fatigue and the frustration and felt the refuge of reflection upon the really great moments and giggles.   That's how I find my balance.             ...

In the days of my loss, A divide went un-mended. A memory, now tarnished, A good that soon ended. Once two: quite the same, Before it all changed, A bouquet: once perfect and beautifully arranged. The ties now are severed, An affinity: marred; One unsaid "I'm Sorry": a slow-healing scar. Life's thirst: quenched: despite One wish-well left dry, To make right: The thing: that drifted awry. Familiarity: Lost? I hope, yes? No... I hope not... Waited: So patiently, for words to be said- To strengthen fond memories, Left weak by one thread.