I miss the feel of fiction floating through my fingers, from mind to keyboard, keyboard to screen, screen to page, page back to mind.
A soft wind carried in the blink of summer's eye, drifting toward the west; a warm breath caught on its edge, the sun, at noon, until all is black again.
Whew. What in the world does what I wrote up there even mean??? You tell me, I've not the foggiest. It just sounded cool. So I wrote it down. Ever get that urge to write something that is simply aesthetic? The words may or may not have a lot of meaning if you look very deeply, but on the surface they sound stinkin' awesome.
So today was...well, a good day. Work was long, in the rain, and I had stomach cramps. That wasn't the good part. After I got back from work, though, I had a great hour-long phone call with the one I love, then an amazing 3-hour drama rehearsal, then got back, ate, and had another couple good conversations, one over the phone, one on chat, with, again, she-who-is-dearest-to-my-heart.
What makes a day good or bad? Is it the things that happen during it, the way you look at it, both, or none? I think it's each one of those options. To be a copper outer—"it all depends."
Okay, so lots of people know this about me. I'm a very responsible person. I take many things seriously. Too seriously, maybe. But I hate it. I hate having to take care of things that need taking care of, in their place, in order...I don't always like having a job, having pets that need me, responsibilities and commitments like the play I'm in right now; these things mean that I can't just jump up and run away. And it irks me. Like the dickens.