To my faithful blog followers (of which there seem to be about...2), this is for you. Don't kick me off your lists.
I often don't even know where to begin. Do you get the feeling sometimes that writing about life not only doesn't capture your thoughts and experiences but actually makes them less real? I get that feeling often. I wish I was more articulate.. or perhaps less articulate. Whatever... I just wish writing was like taking pictures, expressing things without having to sift them through my own lens first. But I suppose photographers are forcing things through a lens too. I want to write like a security camera: grainy,black and white and objective. Then again, the world is more than that, even the most drab security camera view can't catch the truth of it.
It's raining today. And yesterday and the day before... And I'm fantasizing about the emotions of nature. If nature has emotions, what does the rain mean? What are the clouds for? I have this pair of glasses that I only wear on the days when I feel the most introspective and melancholy. And they remind me, each time I have to slide them back into place, of how I feel. And I like that. If nature feels melancholy some days, maybe the rain are her glasses. Just so she doesn't forget to embrace the gray, disconnectedness of that day.
It's been melancholy out for days now. I like it.. I'm feeling tragic romantic.