Trying to find God in a fluorescent light.

I wanna live by Highway 1.

Yes, that Highway 1.

Coldplay’s “Yellow” playing, the sun similarly yellow as it sets over the cliffs that feel at once to be home but still newly beautiful.  The sky’s slightly stormy, some mist and haze, the temperature a cool Seattle spring/fall (but this isn’t Seattle, I mean look at that coastline, it just makes the bay seem unnecessarily busied and artificial, and yes I know about that island) or New York summer/fall night.  Crisp, slightly rainy, I’m out there on the rocks in a hunter-green raincoat but the sun’s still the inefficient part of the flame.

Tears of joy and serenity.  It’s still mid-90s California somewhere in the world.  I’ll make it so if it isn’t.

/sighs

Here’s to a good break, and realizing dreams when one can.

Why, oh why, do I sleep through shit?  And why do dining arrangements always fall apart?

I have to slowly change my Circadian rhythm from being a work-during-the-night, sleep-during-the-morning routine to a sound-night’s-sleep, get-breakfast-every-day system.  It’s something I’ll have to work on over intersession.

Lotte Black Black is amazing.  As is Fast Lane tea.  As are Cheez-Its.  As are Mallomars.

I’m returning to blogging, I’ve decided. Though I arguably have less time for it than, well, ever before, I think it may well be an exercise in sanity and venting, and God knows I need both, lately.

If you (the non-me reader) end up following my adventures, welcome! If not, oh well, I didn’t really intend for it to be more than a masturbatory exercise in writing and clearing my brain.