Day 206: Leaves falling off a tree.

Because today feels like leaves should be falling from a tree. Sweater weather is drawing near and I have never been so excited.

Day 205: Rain.

In seventh grade, I entered this poetry contest and I won. What I won, I am not quite sure-- there's a chance that a million other seventh graders won too. I think that is the last time I ever seriously wrote a poem. I do not even remember the poem, really. I think it was about rain-- either rain or my intense crush on Glen Hunt (these are really the only things that interested me in middle school). Anyway, I was reminded of this poetry writing while reading for English (because it was too rainy to go outside and play) and I decided I would write a poem about the rain again. I did it with two motives: 1) To see if writing poetry was as much fun as I remember it being and 2) I could then digitaize said poem by putting it on here as my "picture" for the day.

So I wrote this poem. I read this poem. I decided against letting anyone else see this poem.

Rain launched this lofty goal of writing something beautiful and delicate. Rain made me ambitious, but it also made me wet. Essentially, I ended today with wet clothes and crummy poetry, which in my opinion is an excellent day. Genuinely.

Day 204: A smoky room.

Because today I am obsessed with the sultry light jazz sensation that is Norah Jones.

"Like the desert waiting for the rain.
Like a school kid, waiting for the spring.
I'm just sitting here, waiting for you . . .
To come on home and turn me on."

That is so suggestive and ridiculous. Love it.

Day 203: A green-tag special thrift tee.

Thrifting is when some of my better conversations happen. Something about pouring over discarded and disintegrated clothing that has seen better days and washes opens us up. Not to mention, where else can you find a shirt that reads "Accelerated Reader," perfectly accented by a bookworm? Nowhere.

Day 202: A clock.

This clock is supposed to signify patience and how seldom I demonstrate it. Today required patience. All I could offer was passive agressive silence. It was a viable substitute, but not nearly as gracious as the former.

Day 201: A guitar in the floor.

Today I woke up to "Ticket to Ride" by The Beatles. It was the best way I've woken in a week or two . . . Just laying in bed tapping my toes between tossing and turning. It made what is a completely mundane and current experience feel nostalgic and lazy-- both of which I enjoy. Waking up totally comfortable and at peace with the day is marvelous.

200ish? MAYBE.

I keep telling myself, "If only I had a camera cord . . . I would be posting pictures." I am starting to wonder if I really would. I am a chronic sufferer of, "I'm this far behind, why try catching up now?" syndrome. The usual remedy is not to fall behind. It is pretty beneficial until I fall behind; then I say, "Fuhgiddibodaht" . . . otherwise known as "Forget about it." However, in lieu of my proactive solution failing-- I am going to take the retroactive approach. I am going to be the little writer I know I am (or once was) and will paint a few key images with a few key phrases and sentences. It will not be forty, but it will at least make a dent in the ever deepening hole I have dug. This is really all for posterity's sake; I would like a medium to look back on 365 days through.

1. Hitting my head against a wall. Frustration has always come easily to me. Lately, I have been self-righteous and indignant and ridiculously proud as though it were my job. What's worse, I am completely closeted about it; my frustration never reaches its source. Ultimately, my flustered fits end with a headache and without progress.

2. The toothiest grin imaginable. Between bouts of frustration, there have been some of the most wonderful moments. If I had ever had cause to doubt my faith in humanity, I have had experiences that would completely restore it. People are conflicted, both beautiful and flawed. I am beginning to find conviction in that as the greatest gift God has endowed us with.

3. Pigtails. There would of course have been days in the past month+ that I did not feel like making an effort at creativity or thought. That is why this picture would be taken. I wear pigtails 80% of the time. I like them because it requires no effort on my part and I feel five-years-old when I do so.

This is a start and by no means a finish.