Tuesday, December 28, 2004
year end
So comes the time of year where everything is in review. The news, the paper, even me: life in review. I get so caught up about what got done, what didn't. I pull out writings from this time last year to compare progress, the pull out tarot cards to predict. It's all very scientific, I promise. And all while in a major sugar coma left over from the holiday.
I am religious about New Year resolutions. I must make them. This year I have found inspiration in a new friend J and plan to vow to watch life more closely. J calls it patience, it is his mantra. He drones it over and over whenever I get flustered over nothing, and sometimes when I'm flustered over something, but it does seem to help. "Just be patient," he says. Coming from him the word is green and smells like tea with honey.
For me, though, I feel it will be something different. Life has been changing for me at an alarming rate, and I feel as If I ma have lost something vital in the rush. So, I plan to slow the pace [not the production, mind you, no room for that] but I hope to gain some control over the pace of input. Let time move as a function of perception rather than the other way around. I just feel strongly as if something I once had is missing, and if I watch for it, I can find it again.
When I do, I will determine the name for it, and it will smell like pepermint and earth, and will taste salty. And I will never loose it again.
I am religious about New Year resolutions. I must make them. This year I have found inspiration in a new friend J and plan to vow to watch life more closely. J calls it patience, it is his mantra. He drones it over and over whenever I get flustered over nothing, and sometimes when I'm flustered over something, but it does seem to help. "Just be patient," he says. Coming from him the word is green and smells like tea with honey.
For me, though, I feel it will be something different. Life has been changing for me at an alarming rate, and I feel as If I ma have lost something vital in the rush. So, I plan to slow the pace [not the production, mind you, no room for that] but I hope to gain some control over the pace of input. Let time move as a function of perception rather than the other way around. I just feel strongly as if something I once had is missing, and if I watch for it, I can find it again.
When I do, I will determine the name for it, and it will smell like pepermint and earth, and will taste salty. And I will never loose it again.
# posted by vanessa from salt lake @ 3:08 PM 
