4 pages long; my pen met with the paper of my personal journal this evening. 

I think more of this will be happening.

Post Script. 

The ONLY (and I'm even willing to try to look passed it) downfall of my most favorite season; the actual changing of the season. Meaning, my bad knee feels like it's going to fall off. 

Truth. 

It has finally arrived in the mail! I have heard wonderful things about this memoir, and I am overly enthused to dive into it. 

It has become a challenge to balance the amount of reading I want to achieve in my leisurely free time in conjunction with the amount of reading that is mandatory for me due to classes. I am fairly determined to give it a go. 

oh, how I adore you.

This morning I woke up to the confirmation that it is in fact that time of year for my most favorite season. The clouds were in the sky, concrete wet with fresh mist, the gloom surrounded me, and the crisp shock of that cold air informed me that Autumn had arrived. Scarves and boots and mittens OH MY! 

Fall, please stay a while. Winter, we are in no rush for you to come along!

Car dancing is just something that makes me entirely too happy and something I will continue to do, well...forever, as I long as I got the moves!

constellations of beauty.

Ursa Major.

"If nothing else, I am myself, it's all I have to give."

Why do I insist on doing this to myself? Every time. I must long for a challenge. Or I am just a self-masochistic fool.

Putting off a 5 page paper until midnight the night/morning before it is due.

Fool.

I will be praying to the coffee gods for another few hours. 

I have no idea how he has escaped an appearance in my ears and mind for so long, but my eyes and ears have now been opened. Jeff Buckley, sweet jesus. 

"Time takes care of the wound, so I can believe.
You had so much to give, you thought I couldn't see.
Gifts for boot heels to crush, promises deceived
I had to send it away to bring us back again.
Your eyes and body brighten silent waters, deep.
Your precious daughter in the other room, asleep.
A kiss "Goodnight" from every stranger that I meet.
I had to send it away to bring us back again.
Morning theft, and pretender left, ungrateful.
True Self is what brought you here, to me.
A place where we can accept this love.
Friendship battered down by useless history,
Unexamined failure.
What am I still to you?
Some thief who stole from you?
Or some fool drama queen whose chances were few?
Love brings us to who we need,
a place where we can save
A heart that beats as both siphon and reservoir.
You're a woman, I'm a calf.
You're a window, I'm a knife.
We come together making chance into starlight.
Meet me tomorrow night, or any day you want.
I have no right to wonder just how, or when.
And though the meaning fits, there's no relief in this.
I miss my beautiful friend.
I had to send it away to bring her back again."

                                            --Jeff Buckley

    Morning Theft

Haunted by that yearnin' for Brooklyn feelin'.

I finally came across some photos from my first trip to New York. This was the very moment when my love for this phenomenal place was ignited.

For some strange reason (or not so strange, seeing as I'm all about the "cosmic energy shit") I have recently and frequently been haunted by the mentioning and fascination of Brooklyn by, what seems like, absolutely everybody around me.

I have a trusted faith that a visit will be just around the corner of the near future.

Brooklyn, I must be in you!