Captain's Log

life is lived

for moments such as these

     when we cannot tell

     whether time has died

     or run on into infinity

     and we do not care

for these fragile moments

     when wind no longer disturbs

     and cold matters not

     and we have forgotten

     how many kisses we've shared

  life is built

for time shared by two

     when everything runs together

     philosophy into psychology

     stars into clouds

     laughter into laughter into laughter

life is those passing seconds

     when two strangers

     become less strange

     ticks on a watch

     the beating of two hearts

  life is lived

for moments such as these

and in these moments

i

It's summer, and I've been busy. The good kind of busy.

I've been busy at the beach, sprawled in the sun with 12 SPF sun lotion, listening to the waves and desperately trying to tan while inevitably burning instead.

I've been busy with friends, with family. Talking, laughing, listening. We celebrated a belated Mother's Day on Sunday and it was beautiful.

I've been busy writing. I have several poems, and the start to a new song. I feel that this summer, I have the potential to be prolific.

I've been busy with my pets and their need for attention that I happily satisfy.

I've been busy with "Modern Family".

I've been busy driving, and listening to music.  And I've been busy reading.  Shit, I have been BUSY reading. I'm finally, FINALLY getting around to reading the pieces I should have read by now, the pieces I've wanted to read but have not had the time for. In the last week I've read:

The Fault In Our Stars by John Green

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

Animal Farm by George Orwell

Bent by Martin Sherman

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf by Edward Albee

Proof by David Auburn

Almost, Maine by John Cariani

The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

Equus by Peter Shaffer

Stuff Happens by David Hare

Via Dolorosa by David Hare

And a (brief) start on The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus

Over 1800 pages (yes, I counted, sue me) of what I would, for the most part, call literature. I feel productive, educated. I feel like I'm learning. Why is it so much easier to feel this way when curled up on my couch in California than when slaving away at my desk at school in New York? Something's wrong there.

And I've been on dates. On Monday, I went on the best date I've had in a long time. I saw him again on Thursday night, and then again all day yesterday. It's better every time I see him. I don't know where it's going, or if it's going anywhere at all. But I like how it's going, and I'm excited to find out.

I'm happy. I haven't been this happy in a long time, and I'd forgotten how it feels.

Sorry tumblr, I know that I haven't been on much. I know that I said I was back, and for good this time. I know that my blog is quickly devolving from the artsy picture blog it used to be into a place where I (occasionally) share my thoughts, my life. I know I'm probably the picture of the terrible tumblr user. I know you're very likely angry with me. I know, and I'm sorry.