Another post that's not about reading,

I am in the process of reading 1984. I find it very unsettling. I find it less unsettling than Brave New World. There, here ends my Strand 80 update. Because this is a place where I put my thoughts and my thoughts are not on the Strand 80 right now.

I was just lying in bed. (Suffering from the heat. I feel like its very writerly to suffer from the heat) and I was thinking about the things that make me sad. Not the vague idea of "things that make me sad" but really the specific things that make me sad. I don't know why, but its probably because its July 1st which is 28 days from July 29th which is when I am going to be 22 1/2 (gross).

Maybe its not a good idea to dwell on these things. Maybe I should stop comparing my moods to inanimate objects that can't hold them. But sometimes, when I try to suppress them, I feel like I'm not paying them due respect.

So as I was lying in bed I had another image pop into my head that describes how I've been feeling. Like a dandelion seed. Let me explain.

Two months ago I was part of a dandelion that had yet to be disturbed. I was rooted in a dependable place that felt like home. I was surrounded by people who might not have been just like me, but they were dependably on my flower. They were similiar to me in the sense that they had chosen to spend their time in a beautiful place. And when I'm honest I think there was something about all of us that pulled us together and held us there. "Meant to be." Whatever you kids are calling it these days.

But then we scattered. And here are some important things I realized. A dandelion seed scattered away from its flower is not any less a dandelion seed. In fact, once it is blown away it can fulfill what it was actually meant to do all along. But it had no more innate worth on the flower then it does off the flower. It is still a dandelion seed.

I also realized that it would be extremely hard for any one seed to keep track of where all the others were going. One or two, it may be lucky with, but the others will probably be long gone and forgotten.

Now, I don't worry about forgetting my other seedlings. I've never been that kind of person. I remember things and people and I turn them over in my mind and my heart everyday (sometimes to the point where it gets too much to bear). But I definitely worry about the other dandelion seeds forgetting me. Travelling just a little too far away and staying a little too silent for too long.

I don't know. Does this make any sense at all. I'll attach a picture to mask my confusion.

A Sunday Poem

Fair haired pillars,
they all move in a similar fashion.
Wide confident movements,
that come from always knowing
(always, always)
that they have slightly more limbs
than the others.

Growing in the churches,
knowing all their lives that God
would be between those four walls
on Sunday morning.
That God would excuse their
perspiration
in the summer,
and their drowsy eyes
in the winter.

The coffee
is hot,
and black,
in the Styrofoam cups.
Their cheekbones are high,
and there is sturdy bone in their noses.

They're not quite sure what all of this
(the bitter coffee and the stale cookies)
has to do with theology.

But surely,
it must be something.

The Location

a) My current endeavors.


b) What shall be called, for lack of a better word, my night stand.


c) One example of a window ledge.


d) The great pillars of knowledge known as my bookshelves.

I thought a good first step would be too offer some evidence of whether or not I am qualified for such a task.
I offer you evidence in the form of my book laden surroundings.
(Please do not judge the titles that may be visible. I have a 22 years worth of reading collected here.)

To the well organized mind, creating a new blog is but the next big adventure.

I paraphrased that a little bit. Sorry Dumbledore.

The point is this. My old blog, she has died. It was the story of my Sophomore, Junior and Senior years of college. I laughed, I cried, and I read a lot of books. I coincidentally also wrote a lot of really imagery heavy short stories and works of poetry.

I also ate a lot of food. Like, seriously homes, I ate a lot of food.

So my plan is this. I have a new writing project I want to start. I also want to finish reading the Strand 80. I want to document both of these experiences here.