Without Expression

Things have been quite exciting lately. I have finally put my efforts towards intertwining my passion for writing and fashion into one lucid quilt of intrinsic beauty.... awwwww. It’s funny how when you really put yourself out there things can actually happen! That sounds boring doesn’t it? Well, it may be an obvious realization for most, but for someone who has been stuck in a rut for several years (*cough* me) it was a pretty awesome feeling to make some ground. School and work have impeded my ability to think about anything else besides 18-19th century literature, art history or paying the damn bills, so possibly venturing into an exciting new project that I hope to be a part of is pretty exhilarating; the doors this may open is enough to make me doing the ‘hands flapping and squealing like a little girl’ thing. But I won’t, because that would be shameful.

I went for a walk this afternoon. It was one of those, dare I say it, beautiful autumn days where there is this perfect balance between the warmth of a low sun and breeze of an artless wind. I sat in the middle of this park across from my house and just, well, picked grass for what seemed like an hour. You know how you’d pick grass when you were younger, and craft a perfect nest for no apparent reason? I use to do that often, not intending to house anything in the nest; I think it was just the only option that one had to create with pieces of dead grass. It was nice, just doing something so meaningless and thinking about nothing but creating this perfectly circular nest that would dissipate in the wind soon after I abandon it. I miss this sort of childhood splendor; perhaps that is why I cherish silly moments like that. When I stood up, and the big girl problems started creeping back into my mind, I didn’t feel so shitty about them. The point of this posting? Hell, I don’t know. It is a blog, there is never a point, just an arrogant sense of self-worth that people actually read these things and give a shit! Lol

Soooo I will leave you with something besides my meaningless picking grass in a field experience. Enjoy!

Terry Reid "Without Expression" (1973)