Current Ponderous Thought:
I keep looking for reasons behind things. Quiet subconsious pieces lying beneath the decisions I make. Which am I really? Genuine or selfish? Considerate or self-centered? Am I trying to be nice for the sake of the person or am I pretending to be nice because that’s what I am “supposed” to be? I guess I’ll never quite know 100 percent. It’s so hard sometimes, attempting to love everyone more than one’s self…
There’s something missing. I can’t quite place it or it hasn’t come back or it has never been. I am longing. The aching pain for
something someone is definitely a feeling for which I am glad I must endure. For me, it all becomes that much sweeter. God’s most common test–patience.
To place my hands on my guitar and produce the most awe-inspiring songs, with creative picking orders and realistic, non-sappy lyrics that make audiences desire nothing but more.
Leah. Stephanie. Where are they? I saw Leah all this morning, but at the same time I felt like she was gone. Stephanie was supposed to be there, but I think she’d forgotten. I need to wrap their presents. Indeed, I miss my best friends.
How does Christmas seem to come and go so quickly as I get older? I heard it all the time growing up and never understood until the last two or three years. I’m beginning to sound exactly as the “adults” did when I was seven and eight. “When you’re my age you’ll understand what I mean…” “No matter how much he prepares, Santa is never quite ready when Christmas finally does arrive…” “It comes so fast now… Time really flies…”
Not far beyond those tall evergreens, just past the north side, a hear their cries. Coyotes have gathered and are screaming in sadness. That or they’ve just caught a squirrel and are announcing their congrats to the one who brought it back. Still, they are howling and makes me want to dress warmly and to go search for them–to hear them from 20 feet instead of 300 yards.
Writing makes me happy. Writing about people I care about makes me happier. Writing to people I care about makes me happiest. I have some letters to mail… If only I had an address.
My bare feet are hovering over the heating vent, feeling the reminiscence of warmness existing at one point in time earlier today. Although no heat rises and my toes continue to freeze, my feet remain. It’s comforting to know my feet continue to hope for better conditions even when my brain is saying no warmth will ever come; hot air will not rise; and socks are my best, if not my only chance.