I’m just tired… and frustrated. And sick of always missing people. There’s never enough time, never.
If I make it through Wednesday, I will be a happy person. I have a presentation. I do not like public speaking. I am also unprepared.
On Friday night, I am going to Marjorie’s house! I am so excited. But I have much to do in the meantime. Hopefully I can focus the next few days on what is essential, homework-wise.
I miss just being able to hang out, pop down to the laundry room to chat, etc. But soon!
Salvation is thy name.
Fill me with joy,
I long for Friday’s cheerful embrace.
by Amy Lowell
All night our room was outer-walled with rain.
Drops fell and flattened on the tin roof,
And rang like little disks of metal.
Ping!– Ping!– and there was not a pinpoint of silence between them.
The rain rattled and clashed,
And the slats of the shutters danced and glittered.
But to me the darkness was red-gold and crocus-coloured
With your brightness,
And the words you whispered to me
Sprang up and flamed– orange torches against the rain.
Torches against the wall of cool, silver rain!
So, I really like this poem. I don’t know exactly why. I just identify with it. For some random reason.
They didn’t have two things of grape tomatoes. I had to get one grape tomato and one cherry tomato. It was almost a disaster. Just kidding.
Harvest dinner was good. Turkey was absolutely delicious.
I get to go “home” on Friday. I am excited, lemme tell ya.
I feel… strange. Like I want to push everyone away from me. Yet I want them to be with me all the time. It’s odd.
I miss my Aunt Beast, even though I saw her two hours ago. I guess I just want to talk to her more. It’s weird.
But I just want to write. I haven’t wanted to write passionately for a long time. I just want to write everything and anything and to have it feel good. I want to write about life. I want to write about love. I want to be deep. I want to be poetic.
I want to love God like I’m supposed to. I want to be the Christian I’m supposed to be.
It’s strange how I connect writing and God. I think expression and God are intertwined in a lot of ways. David was a poet. Solomon was a writer.
I think that since I will be home next year, and perhaps the next, that I will focus a lot of my time on improving my creative writing. On making my ability to express myself key in my life.
I want to be a writer again. Not just an English major.
More on this sometime later.
I have to go get 2-3 cucumbers, 2 things of grape tomatoes, and a giant container of sour cream.