I have found a coffee shop here in Chico that has stolen my heart. They play all the music I like and the people that work there call me "Dear" and "Love". My affection is easily won over, I suppose. I suppose.
I just want to type, is all. I don't know what my aim is here, what I'm going to come up with... but I will use the Rule of Right Now.
Right now, I just finished picking out my class schedule for Butte. It is as follows:
Environmental Economics
Art Appreciation
Creative Writing
Eastern Psychology through Yoga
Introduction to Weather
I'd have to say that I'm pretty excited...they're not too horribly conventional, which makes me like college for a fleeting moment.
Right now...
Right now, I am hot. It is muggy here. Three hours away and the weather is still quite different.
I have been dwelling on movement...travel...settling, lately. I never want to live somewhere as long as I have lived in Brentwood. I want to experience as many places as I can. I want to move every year. I don't ever want to feel too comfortable, too bored somewhere. I think that moving around will be my way of studying and observing. And I want to keep my head fresh, I don't want to become stagnant or uninspired.
Plus, I am changing all the time. I think my setting should change accordingly. My ripples will soon reach far--one day people will know me as casual acquaintances from all over the place. Look at my list already; Brentwood, Humboldt, Chico... I will continue to spread myself thin, because in a weird way I like feeling unstable.
I have discussed this multiple times with someone who shares a similar soul as me. She and I agree that there are masochistic fibers of ourselves that crave to be sad, that ache for things to be a struggle. We love to cry. Isn't that weird?
Yes it is. But we like weird stuff, too. It works out.
Out of my sadnesses and tragedies come the best of my ideas, my purest words, my strongest inner risings. I could be happy all the time, but what is the learning in that?
You can only talk about happiness so much... But one could go on about their strife forever. And maybe, in going on about it, you may discover the light at the end of the tunnel. Because there always is one. Always.
R A M B L I N G S !
I wrote this the other day. It's a little snippet I'd like to share.
"Bars of soap. Barber shops. Coffee stops...cafe, that day. City air and building tops. Traffic heat, my faded green seats. Through the tunnel, our heads spun--high with infinity--we will live forever.
...Fistfulls of sand as you pulled me to the ground, the ocean reeds hugged us, as if it were seaweed. As if we were on the bottom of the ocean. gravity defying, curious eyes of little fish darting away from us. Let them look.
Comfort...in the millions of grains of sand that enveloped us, caught in my fingers as they made contact with your thousands of strands of hair. We were so large in a sea of something so tiny, talking about how we felt miniature. A constant contradiction, beauty in the hesitation."
You know when you are just so overwhelmed by something, so many emotions and words piling on top of you, you don't know where to start? That's how writing that was... or attempting, rather. Quite difficult. So much to stay. So many ideas, metaphors, so many monumental moments that will slowly slip from my memory if I don't record them.
So. Much. Pressure! But I suppose that's what shitty first drafts are for? Consider that one.
Hi, hello, welcome to today. Welcome to Right Now.
I like this. It fits. :)
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