i'm not

There's flowers and paper and missed calls and books and wind and she's there and I'm not.

the midnight thoughts

What is it that encourages us to explore the world? Why is it that it takes drastic change in setting to change us? We neglect to find depth in the places that are familiar to us; we use those places for comfort and refuge and nostalgia, but we don't have the capacity to see past our preconceived notions of them. Why is that? Can we gain objectivity without physically stepping back? Do we have to see new things in order to understand what we have?

I've always been fascinated with the world; I used to draw my dreams on maps with black sharpies. When I travel, I'm opened up to these new injustices, new ideas, new opportunities -- to me, it always seemed so glamorous to take on the world and stand for something.

Going to church this morning didn't necessarily enlighten me to a renewed Christian lifestyle, but it made me realize that it's people like that, the people that sit in the pews every week and attend all the routine church events, are the people that can see the entire world inside a small town. They're the ones that understand the need for revolution and action in even the insignificant places. They don't dismiss any gradient of pain -- it all means something.

Can people change when they stand still?
Can people find themselves when they never look down?

What does it mean to change the world?

it's a lonely job

"I wanted to be a writer once. But I didn't work hard enough at it... it's a lonely job."
(I accidentally watched Lifetime today. But I got this quote so it's okay.)

Today I took a route to Burlington that I didn't know. I ate whole wheat pizza and bought green glass bowls and listened to a static-y radio station I've never heard. I was bitter in the morning about being abandoned, but I realized for the first time that I'll be ok. I've always known I could survive on my own, but I understood today that I can be happy.

I'm ready for the job.