Dreary days have been absent this summer, but today, the skies are a milky blue-grey. This shade of creativity castes the world in shimmering pale. I love the wet. Because the wasps by my window have settled down for an extended nap till a dry shine will wake them. Until then, the rain drips by their heads silently, persistently. On gloomy days, I most appreciate how the world rotates in an ever-constant state while my perceived reality slows – just enough – to feel as if all things are crawling through an invisible field of molasses. And, everything is green against the backdrop of blue-grey. I have been inspired to write. The surge of creative juices has my fingers itching, but insert my dilemma: boop. I have no clue what to write. Oh sure, I’ve ideas. A frightening story has been gurgling in my belly for some time, but am I willing, in ink, to murder? I have considered completing a short horror piece for Halloween, but to what extend will I allow the gore to overtake me, bathe me? Horror is a magic you must be careful to press into ink. Nightmares too easily leap from the page.
Romance has been tickling the back of my brain lately – too – like a subtle seduction. Love frightens me more than gore, and a true love story is hard to find – even harder to capture on paper. I dislike the production of cheesy love. Not to say that true love can’t be cheesy. If you have an adorkable personality…Go with it. What I am trying to say is that my love story should feel like a travesty of emotions. Perhaps love is nothing but a figment of perception coupled with an onslaught of adrenaline, but I refuse to believe. Taking the scientific stance on love is boring and mature. Since when has love ever FELT like a rush of hormones? Never. At least, that’s not how we put it to words. Love is an overflowing spring of torment that tastes of raspberry and honey to the tongue, smells of lilacs and lavender to the nose, feels like goose bumps on the belly beneath silk sheets.
I’m just going to have to get back into the groove of the consistent writing, I guess. I’ve been negligent, but when reality like lightening strikes you down with responsibility, you must do it and put away pleasures till they are reasonable.
Honestly, writing is not the only thing that I will have to “get back in the groove” to accomplish. After a two year break, I am headed back to university to finish my degree. This step in the supposed “right” direction has me nervous and excited. Transferring my mind and social standing to that was a college student is going to be tough. Exhilarating. Never before have I had such a rush of mixed emotions. I am in love with the notion. I am going to miss my friends. Leaving them for months at a time while I get my life figured out is going to be the hardest aspect of this transition. How does one maintain friendships over such a distance? I have had difficulties maintaining friendship when they are merely on the opposite side of town, but now that five hours distance will separate us, I am not sure how to react. I wish to assume that they are going to forget me. I wish we had taken more photos over the course of the summer, but there is always next summer to accomplish that goal. I have promised myself that if I make good grades, I will treat myself to a camping vacation with my friends. But…we will see how the winds blows a year from now. In a year, much can change. People change. Lives change. Dreams change. I’m not sure I am ready for it. By Friday, I have to be ready to sign my name to fate. I must force myself to take a positive outlook on all of this and channel that outlook in a constructive way for my future. I have goals, true, but I don’t want to leave behind my friends in order to get there. But, growing up – this time – is not going to be fair.