la princesa bonita chiquita (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} wayyoudanced) wrote,@ 2009-05-18 17:05:00 |
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pickle pieces
i used to be able to recap my days and actually make them sound authentic and relevant. i've promised (and sort of forced) myself to keep a journal this summer in europe. because if i ever decide to enroll in graduate school, my teachers will whole-heartedly laugh at my petty attempts of creation. i need to practice. this is a craft. this must be developed and matured. and what i've done recently is shy away from the paper. my job swallowed me whole, danny gets to chew up the rest and spit it out when he pleases. and i am extremely okay with that. extremely.
i used to be able to recap my days and actually make them sound authentic and relevant. i've promised (and sort of forced) myself to keep a journal this summer in europe. because if i ever decide to enroll in graduate school, my teachers will whole-heartedly laugh at my petty attempts of creation. i need to practice. this is a craft. this must be developed and matured. and what i've done recently is shy away from the paper. my job swallowed me whole, danny gets to chew up the rest and spit it out when he pleases. and i am extremely okay with that. extremely.
its taken me a couple years to actualize the dreams i used to write about in 2006. i started putting together my writing samples today.
how can i describe what i feel when i skim them, edit and digest?
nauseated
jubilant
depressed
trapped
excited
proud
unsuccessful
defeated
regal
prosaic
intuitive
expectant?
i haven't lived down my name. something i am absolutely not ashamed of. the legacy of broken plates, hearts and faces follow me everywhere i go. i think somewhere far, far away she is smiling (more like a silent approving smirk, the most attractive and beautiful smirk in the world). here comes the summer thunder. here comes our 'ice cream sunday', here comes a return.
