Sunday, April 08, 2007
What Is Real Life, Except A Vessel For Dreaming?
I was dancing around the bathroom earlier, cleaning things up, when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Long skirt, deep purple lady-shirt, multiple necklaces, and a coiled gather of hair. I was radiating earth mother. In a good way, I suppose. It is just weird to turn around and unexpectedly see oneself in a different light. Every so often in life there is evidence of growth.
Easter is here, Paul was a trooper and didn't fall asleep or anything. Last night church was from eleven thirty (pm) until four (am). Repetitive Greek Easter service. Freezing weather. Strange food afterward, and not as much cheese as they usually provide. The day was spent in Jacksonville, at the mall and the bookstore and adjacent to a McDonalds. A strange but lovely day. I especially like being together in bookstores. The wandering, interceptions by the classics or the magazines. Being able to sit in a aisle and read ten feet apart. Loaning pens (which I don't recall getting back...) and writing down titles or authors. Spending two hours in literary bliss when it only feels like forty-five.
Right now I am dying for the rest of my hamburger, from our post-Easter entry back into the world of omnivore-ism, but I want it to be for lunch tomorrow. I had ice cream and pie instead. Alas it did not satisfy my craving. I still want to go in there and devour my delicious hamburger.
When I am older, I want to have multiple Christmas trees. As many as is financially reasonable. I love the trees. Maybe potted trees or something. Being a glutton for doomed trees seems like it isn't very nice. I also plan on stealing Rachel's idea for abandoning every other Christmas. Well, not quite abandoning. We will take the money that would have been spent on presents and take a trip instead. No fake trees. No matter how guilty I feel about supporting tree-murders, I cannot and will not abide fake trees and pine scent from a spray can.
I wrote a new quote on the wall. It is from The Poisonwood Bible, "Trust in Creation, which is made fresh daily and doesn't suffer by translation."
I was dancing around the bathroom earlier, cleaning things up, when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Long skirt, deep purple lady-shirt, multiple necklaces, and a coiled gather of hair. I was radiating earth mother. In a good way, I suppose. It is just weird to turn around and unexpectedly see oneself in a different light. Every so often in life there is evidence of growth.
Easter is here, Paul was a trooper and didn't fall asleep or anything. Last night church was from eleven thirty (pm) until four (am). Repetitive Greek Easter service. Freezing weather. Strange food afterward, and not as much cheese as they usually provide. The day was spent in Jacksonville, at the mall and the bookstore and adjacent to a McDonalds. A strange but lovely day. I especially like being together in bookstores. The wandering, interceptions by the classics or the magazines. Being able to sit in a aisle and read ten feet apart. Loaning pens (which I don't recall getting back...) and writing down titles or authors. Spending two hours in literary bliss when it only feels like forty-five.
Right now I am dying for the rest of my hamburger, from our post-Easter entry back into the world of omnivore-ism, but I want it to be for lunch tomorrow. I had ice cream and pie instead. Alas it did not satisfy my craving. I still want to go in there and devour my delicious hamburger.
When I am older, I want to have multiple Christmas trees. As many as is financially reasonable. I love the trees. Maybe potted trees or something. Being a glutton for doomed trees seems like it isn't very nice. I also plan on stealing Rachel's idea for abandoning every other Christmas. Well, not quite abandoning. We will take the money that would have been spent on presents and take a trip instead. No fake trees. No matter how guilty I feel about supporting tree-murders, I cannot and will not abide fake trees and pine scent from a spray can.
I wrote a new quote on the wall. It is from The Poisonwood Bible, "Trust in Creation, which is made fresh daily and doesn't suffer by translation."
Labels: Books, Love, reflection
-- G 'Bye, Sonya -- . ( 8.4.07 ) .