Oh, you're in my veins, and I cannot get you out.

The word "summer" connotes a medley of sweet sensations for everyone. We all seem to understand eating strawberries on the porch. We all seem to know sweet tea in mason jars. We all seem to smile at the memory of watermelon stains on our white, sweaty shirts. We all love the smell of cut grass (though not necessarily the cutting of grass), the ever abundant green outside the window, the tangled hair from beach wind, and of course, the kiss of sun. And with all this is the fondness of reading a good book in the bed of an air conditioned house, homemade ice cream which tastes just as good indoors as it does when in melts in your bowl outside, and whipped cream. Always a fondness for whipped cream.

Every year when September comes through my door (yes, it comes straight through; it never knocks) I always feel as though I never got enough of summer. We are good pals, Summer and I. You see, I am a July baby, and while I do love every day of every season, I have a special connection to the mugginess and the green and the closeness of the sun's heat and light. And I am always sad to see it leave, even though I know it will soon return. I love winter, I love spring, I love autumn, but to me, they are always transitions to get me to summer - a destination of sorts. Which is true when one has the mindset of a student. I don't care what you say, summer is a destination.

In heaven, it will always be summer, and it will never be hot.

The world is full of you, and you are just too wonderful.

Moments come into my life where I find myself surrounded by people, and I actually pay attention to them. Each one is as different from the other as a crocodile is from a mouse. But the blessings I get from simply being in their presence is just too much at times. These people are just too wonderful, and I wonder how in the world I got to be with them.

I find unique gifts and smiles and laughs and fun and I find myself falling in love, and I want to hug them all and keep them with me forever.

These people are just too wonderful, and I only wonder how I got to be here with them.

A southern summer storm...

over as quickly as it began...

My life is Jello. Sitting and waiting in the bowl. Patiently to gel

It's a haiku.

You know when you're at a weird point in your life when things could go amazingly well or oh-no-oh-gosh badly,if everything happened exactly the way you wanted it to, then you would be on a smooth path, or if things didn't go the way you wanted them to, then your life would suck, and you're sitting on the sidelines of such happenings that you have no control over trying to make it all go the way it's supposed to even though you know that it's not doing anything to influence the happenings?

Just curious.

I'm waiting to sign a lease for the first time ever. I'm waiting on hours for a new experimental-ish job. I'm waiting for acceptance into a summer course that I hopefully will pass. I'm waiting to see if my tires will last. And I'm waiting. But the last thing I want to do is be passive. Waiting, by definition, is a passive verb, but I don't want to be so just because that is what I find myself doing a lot. At the end of my life, I want to feel the ache of spent muscles in my legs instead of a broken back from the load of meaningless crap I sat and collected while others traveled by.

I'm not a fuzzy hangover.

Do you remember when
we sat on the curb
and we had no reason to

dance through the unwelcome
territory. So
we played all the more in the

rain. Last night I knew that
no other life could
exist outside of what we

had decided to make
of our snickers and
bored musings and wasted gas.

But the weekend's ended
and winter comes to
write this is the end.