Sunday, November 6, 2011


I have a way of making an awful mess of things. By things, I mean myself; my room, my books, my drawings, my relationships, my emotions, my hair, my nails {oh dear, I have ghastly nails}, my math homework, etc. I'm messy when I don't know what I want. I'm messiest when I'm chasing something I think I want, but I don't really want. I look all over hell for it - and anything in the way is ravaged and ignored. To prevent these Dionysian rampages from occurring too often I make lists. I make lists of things to do, things to remember, but mostly things to chase, and bottle up.

Recent lists bear resemblance to this, {scads of these things are in my head, and some of them are sitting in ink, on barbed slips of paper}:

mini-mallows for hot chocolate
more sweaters, it's cold
holding hands for awhile
to forget a lot
...and forgive?
ok. forgive.
books books books
laughter {the real and ugly kind}
my cousins back, wrapped up in my arms, all of them
more painting
less crying
really less crying
new people
the best kind of kisses
the best kind of people, with stories

So that partly sums up, part of what I want, part-time.

People thanking God for saving them.

"...we choose possibility. Possibility is almost always better than reality." - Mrs. VanOrden

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