Black cats, ladders and broken mirrors. That was all fine. Egging that hearse was where we went wrong.

"It is so much easier to live placidly and complaisantly. Of course, to live placidly and complaisantly is not to live at all."- Jack London

"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new lands but seeing with new eyes."- Marcel Proust

"The most glorious moments in your life are not the so-called days of success, but rather those days when out of dejection and despair you feel rise in you a challenge to life, and the promise of future accomplishments."- Gustave Flaubert

"Fear not that your life shall come to an end, but rather it shall never have a beginning"- Cardinal John Henry Newman


So taking that beginning, and seeing where it leads me, I guess. Being back is definitely oh-so-strange, but things have been so crazy awesome so far I haven't really had a chance yet to get sad. I'm loving my mornings, when the fog sits on the hills way off on the other side of the city, and here we all roost like chickens, gazing out from our perch over the quiet green persuasion. I'm loving the rain, sitting nights and listening. Funny how you don't realize the presence of such small...well...the word in russian is a cross between jewelry, decoration, and beautification...Loving seeing everyone, though I loath loath loath all this crazy awkwardness of "OMG hi WHERE were you all last semester?! Abroad? Like, how was it???" I'd rather you not ask, thanks. I don't know you, and you don't know me, and honestly if I have to spit out a "fine, thanks for asking. How was your semester?" one more time, I think I might throw something.

Its so strange to be with out that bottom again, back without the ground under my feet. And yet at the very same time, I feel the most solid that I have in awhile. Was starting to get panicky yesterday, yes, haha what else, due to already piling up music drama. I went to bed last night convinced I was going to drop music theory, for god sakes let it go already. Woke up this morning, went and played some before class, and everything was more than fantastic. It was hell, I mean really, I haven't struck a drum in a reaaaaaaaally long time, and have absolutely less than no chops left over from last May, but it just felt so good. Me flailing around like a retarded 8 year old and all, always has its pick me up value. So relaxing. The impetus, however minute, to turn my brain off and just be, damn it, is most definitely something still eluding me.

I love doing what I do, wandering, travelling, adventuring I mean, because taking me out of whatever situation to which I have become accustomed allows me not to be my pragmatic, logical, self. And I'm back here, and I sense myself getting stressed, and angry, and well, involved, and it irks me. I love being the free spirit, hoping a bus to Latvia on the spur of the moment, because I can. I love not knowing where I'm sleeping that night. I love, well, not having a fucking clue, and having that not matter.

And no, not knowing what the hell I'm doing with my college education DOES NOT COUNT.

Ok, so yes. Maybe I am melodramatic.