I keep trying to figure out what i’d really do if i only had a few hours left. I feel like a tornado might come through here today. People always say they would eat lasagna/eat steak/go to the ocean, and whatever, but i honestly can’t think of anything i’d realistically do except run outside. The last time i thought of this a few months ago, i imagined running through hillsboro village, looking at the sky and Just running and crying tears, from some other emotion than sadness. Today i would just run out of my door and go down the street, i guess. Running and breathing. I don’t even run. Apparently on some level i equate it with living, so maybe i’ll start.
Also, reading on the nook freaks me out. Where is the rest of the book? I cant feel it! What if i want turn a few pages back again really quickly? That never happens, though.
I keep having nightmares that I’ve gotten a tattoo.
What I hope happens this summer.
I hope I feel burning sunshine on my shoulders every day. I hope I am carefree and can take Avery with me to beautiful places. I hope I wake up in the morning and drink good coffee (reminder to buy a french press before May), and really write. I will keep a notebook like Maira Kalman or Natalie Goldberg.
http://kalman.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/01/02/completely/
And I’ll have time to take pictures of what I cook, so I’ll really start a food blog. I’ll make lots of types of jam and salsa, and I’ll give them away in pretty jars. I will go out to the garden every day hopefully and let Avery eat tomatoes and get messy. We will run all around and play in dirt. On days my mom is watching him, I’ll try to find a newspaper job. No, I’ll go to Fido. I’ll do both.
So this will be the beginning of a new journey. And maybe I’ll get a phone that isn’t smart so I won’t be on it as much. Detachment from technology, constant creativity, and spreading love. I think once I am done with school, I’ll have the love to spread which will help. I can feel the lovelessness in my face.
Oh yeah, what I also mean to do this summer is focus outward instead of inward. Right, that’s right.
Good.
This sort of reminds me of your Abraham Lincoln.
I feel more peaceful and less hurried today. And a little out-of-body. Like Yawny at the Apocolypse.
(Source: theimpossiblecool, via youngmanandoldsoul)
I only like men with prominent noses. Really i only like any people with big noses. Not fat noses, just longer or with the intelligent bump in the middle. I dont trust ski slopes or button noses unless they’re on a very small child.
Oliphant is a last name. Why isnt it mine??? (!!!)
and all of the sudden, it is gone. the strange self inside of me that was here and being so crazy is gone. what happened? how do i get this to happen next time she appears?
Attic for rent in Vienna… This is where I would drink lots of coffee and bask in the indoor sun all day. Make sushi and watch quality films in the evenings.
I’d let my hair be dirty and sometimes wear red lipstick.
I would play good hip hop or Beirut, or I’d open the windows and have silence.
I would wear white and gray v-neck t-shirts with striped skirts, or skinny jeans, or cutoff shorts.
I can almost taste it.
(Source: youngmanandoldsoul)
New Things I Love:
Tea
Bright colors with gray
Thinking about Starting to do what I want
Instagram, kind of, and Pinterest (I’m sorry)
Natural
Tea again
WHAT IS
wanting, needing to have a different hair color every day?
knowing I can’t go back and worrying about it constantly.
obsessions on rotation.
craving weird,
not doing what I really want,
being afraid of, imprisoned by my own mind.
It will all be ok: you’ve got the future with skinny pants and flats and hats, bright colors and non;
sewing,
quilts. So many quilts,
and cooking.
Wonderful friends, a dad with wonder and a son with real true love; a husband with sometimes-surprises and a mom who actually knows; a brother with an exciting future and one more for Fun.
The Dream of a farm and hosting Thanksgiving.
Really writing, seeing artsy movies, becoming involved again in church and spending Saturdays in various parts of Nashville.
Don’t cry. All apples rot and stink. No one matters unless they need you.
