Subtle changes

Splashes of red, gold, and brown are beginning to paint the leaves,
signifying change.
Mornings and evenings are crisp and cool,
while the afternoons, warm.
The sun wraps its arms around me and I never want to leave outside.
Flavors of spicy cinnamon and nutmeg,
sweet pumpkin and juicy, tart apples.
The smell of dead leaves reminds me that summer's life is fading quickly,
soon to turn into the bitter cold of winter.
Everything is changing, including me.
I'm making subtle changes.
My diet.
I'm running.
I'm trying to be a better person for myself and others.
Perhaps this is what I need to get through the annual depression that
the cold brings me...
To create life of that which is dead within me.
Splashes of true joy, true happiness, and love paint my face,
signifying change.

Painting (acrylic on panel): Duy Huynh, "Awakening (Metamorphasis of the Leaf Butterfly)"

Amour

"I am thinking it's a sign,

that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images,

and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned..."

Last night, Tony and I took a huge step in our relationship.

I finally feel like I can trust him enough to open up my heart and talk to him about things.

He did push me a little bit.

He told me he has a hard time talking to me about personal things when I can never open up to him.

I know I'm secluded.

I rarely speak my mind.

I try to seem bubbly and happy all the time.

Sometimes I am.

"...And I have to speculate,

that God himself did make us into corresponding shapes,

like puzzle pieces from the clay..."

So I told him. The big one.

I broke down completely and really haven't felt the same since.

It's nerve-racking to think about "what if."

What if he told?

Does he judge me?

What if he says something to that person?

"...And true,

it may seem like a stretch,

but it's thoughts like this that catch my troubled head

When you're away and I am missing you to death..."

He won't.

I trust him.

He doesn't judge me.

It's not my fault. He can't.

I know he cares and that he knows how important this is to me.

I know he loves me.

And I love him.

I love him.

"...They will see us waving from such great heights.

'Come down now,' they'll say.

But everything looks perfect from far away.

'Come down now.'

But we'll stay."

-Such Great Heights by, Dusty Dewan

Born Ruffians - Barnacle Goose (live at soundscape)

Motivation

8:30 AM.
Philosophy class.
Ryle states that our moods are like weather conditions.
Today's forcast: Partly cloudy.
No rain, but definitely a chance.
Also, it's quite probable that the sun will pop out any second.
I'm on the verge of having a breakdown,
but before it happens, I need to focus.
Clean. Things. Up.
"Let the sunshine it!" -Hair
Todays tasks seem daunting:

Do the dishes, do the laundry,
scrub the toilet, make the bed.
Wipe the counters, spray the windows,
yes, I'll prob'ly lose my head.

It reminds me of that song,
"Cinderelly, Cinderelly!
Nice and gay is Cinderelly." -Cinderella

Motivational vibe for the day?
The Born Ruffians Pandora station.
Maybe once things are organized a little bit,
Mr. Sun might just "shine down on me."

GOASTT Rainbows In Gasoline SXSW

Fire

Dry, dead leaves and twigs are piled high, filling the dark hole in the earth,
alongside crumbled newspapers holding tales of the week's misery.
The pile is cold, lifeless.
It can't breathe. The colors are merely brown, grey, and black.
It's missing something.
It's missing everything.
A lit match somehow finds it's way into the mound of rubbage.
Suddenly, the dead pile has new life.
Born again.
The newspapers, filled with horrible stories from the past vanish into a pile of ash.
They no longer matter.
Flames roar and dance, intertwining and wrapping their arms around one another.
It's hot, passionate, fast, furious.
It goes on for quite some time, providing warmth to all that surrounds it.
Golden happiness.
But even the happiest of things don't last forever.
The fire begins to slowly die, transforming into a tiny pile of glowing embers.
They're still warm and they have the potential to grow again, but the passion is gone.
Right now, there's a chance that it could burn out completely.
I don't want it to.
Rekindle the flame!
I want fire. I want to burn forever.



Today felt like a good day to start fresh with everything. I've erased all my old blogs in hopes of "cleaning my slate", burning those newspapers. True, it won't change the things that have happened, but I don't need a constant reminder of them either. Here's to indulging in creativity. Why complain when I can create art instead?