Lovely Freedom

When do colors cease? Where does music fade? These questions have been hovering over my head like so many troublesome flies on a hot July day. I jump into my mind, so like a cool, underground lake in the misty passages inside of my colossal imagination. I swim slowly to the shore, pausing often to look at the liquid under me, where the lake seems to have no bottom. Finally, I climb onto the soft, phosphorescent sand, tired, wet, and happy. I wave a hand, and all of everything around me disappeared, to be replaced by a quietly flowing river, where I lay on the grass above the bank, shaded by some stately old elm tree that watches me like I am some errant, wayward child, to be recaptured by the butler and escorted home for afternoon tea. My Victorian dress dries slowly in this shade, but finally I leap up and grab my vintage hat, then run over to where he stands above me. When he spins me around, I laugh at the sight of his coat-tails flying behind him; he is so well dressed and proper, so dapper, that I make him stand still as I circle him and admire his finery, then I grab his hand and we run, we run forever, to eternity, to where the colors cease, to where the music fades; until there are only two young people left, dancing to the sound of their heartbeats. 

A Beautiful Thing

A quiet noise. It is soft, persistent, unworthy of notice, like background music in a silent room, the volume too low to hear, the song not worth listening to. It is almost a sound that cancels noise, intensifying the silence. Then the color, and shape. It is a slight gray like the floor of a subway, or a sweater that a man wears as he walks through the morning that begins the rest of his life. The shape is a first a small circle, but then extends into small, vertical lines, just like static you might see on a screen. The smell slowly asserts itself; a damp, old smell, but that has the promise of freshness in it, like old compost that has been spread in the garden. And as you tilt your head up, you can taste it, feel it running off your face. Rain.

A Lasting Love

Why are there so many kinds of love? You can love someone or you can be in love with someone, and it all gets mixed up, because my mind isn’t what it used to be. If you listen to a song, chances are it’s going to be about love. There is brotherly love and sisterly love and parental love and romantic love. I love so many people, all in different ways. But not romantically. If I ever do love someone like that, I hope that romantic love will just be a phase, something that will pass away and leave something much more lasting. What I want is a steady love, burning bright, someone who will understand me as a friend and care for me as a woman and provide for me as a wife. I want someone who doesn’t measure love in kisses, but in the little acts that show that I care for them: cleaning the house and the kitchen, cooking, making the bed in the morning. Because kisses are something cheap, that can be given away to anyone. A warm embrace, however, makes me feel safe, warm, like someone is there to take care of me. And that kind of love, you can’t find in a highschool romance. You can’t find it in a “friends with benefits” relationship. You can’t find it in a one night stand. And you most certainly won’t find it in some high-school hunk. No, you will find it in the patience of waiting, waiting to be certain that he is the right man, that he will never go back on his word. You will find it in his quiet acceptance of caring for you. You will know that he is the right man when he is content to stoop to even the lowest, humblest task at one word from you. Because that is the love that will last till death do you part. 

My Mother and my Horse

My dear, dear readers: I apologize. This is not a post like my other posts. This post brings terrible news with it. 

And I mean dreadful. 

My mom was a horse trainer. She was pretty darn good. She even trained Olympic at the Korean Olympics. 

But I must repeat: she was a horse trainer. 

She dropped horse riding and training for a long time, and now we have two horses: a wonderful Palomino named Peaches and a sweet Paint/Pinto double-registered named Keno's April Fools. 

She went riding off by herself around the farm on Peaches and had an accident. 

When passing close by my Uncle Timothy's, Peaches reared, corkscrewed, and took off. My mom got left behind. 

Luckily, my Uncle Timothy was late out of his driveway because he had just run over two of his guinea hens, and had to stop to put them in the back of his truck. This was the time needed for him to see my mom fall. 

She is getting released from the hospital today, with six broken ribs and a broken collarbone. 

Six broken ribs! Even I was impressed. 

Yesterday morning, she had surgery on her collarbone and had a plate installed. 

Thank you for reading today, and please pray for my Mom. 

Hopefully, this won't set me back too far in getting back to regular updates. 

Thank you again. 

And I miss everyone out in ol' California. 

Weddings, Cows, Daughtry, and Deadlines

Dear readers: AAAHHH!
I must repeat: AAAHHH!
I haven't posted anything in absolute ages, and I feel terrible about that. I also feel tired, as it is 10:00 PM  in my neck of the woods.
On to excuses!
...I think I have some excuses. Oh yeah!
Some of my cousins got married. It was a six-hour drive there, we stayed two days, we had a blast. It was a perfect storybook wedding. I want my wedding to be like that. With a few changes.
On the way to the wedding, we stopped and looked at cows.
 Dear readers, cows!
We looked around a dairy farm, and picked out a cow to be our very own. BUT we had no way to transport it.
So after the wedding, which was in Santa Fe, New Mexico, we drove to a town called Colorado Springs, and stayed one night in a terrible hotel.
The next day, we drove to Fort Collins, Colorado, (stopping for a moment in Monument, Colorado) watched a movie, (Thor: The Dark World/Planet/whatever) and picked up a stock trailer. The same day, we drove to Pueblo, Colorado, and stayed the night in a nice hotel.
Today, we drove from a nice hotel, Pueblo, Colorado, to the dairy farm, to our beautiful farm town.
As you can tell, it was a lot of driving.
And my laptop doesn't have a good battery.
So I didn't really write those four days, except to work on my novel.
BUT! This morning, DAUGHTRY! Yay! The album Baptized came out! And I listened to the whole thing forever! From Pueblo, Colorado, to Farm House, Farm!
I must say this: if you ever wondered what my personality was like, combine the songs Waiting For Superman and Wild Heart and you will get me.
And when I get married, (no deadline on that, I haven't met Mr. Right yet [I don't think] and I'm still underage) the song Cinderella will be my first dance. I already have it choreographed.

ANYWAY, I have one last excuse for leaving all y'all in the loop: This is the month after October. And I don't mean November.
It's National Novel Writing Month. And I have a deadline. I have 37,000 words, give or take a few hundred, and I need 13,000 more; by the thirtieth.
Dear readers, I will write to you more at a later date.
I hope you understand.
And I love you all to pieces.
May the Force be with you.

My New Tiger

Hello, hello, hello!

I got a tiger! 

A what? 

A tiger! 

A what?

A tiger!

Oh! A tiger! 

And I thought I'd share some pictures of him. 

His name is Zosma. 

And no, he's not a "real" tiger, in the same sense that Pinocchio was not a "real" boy. 

And don't tell him I said that. If you ever meet him. 

Running from the Sunrise

Listening to the steady roar of the engines, looking over the yellow brick roads, running away from the sunrise. This is appropriate, but only in suitable audiences. And since you are strapped into a leather airplane seat, you might as well apply. I’m sure you’ll qualify. The slightest movement of my wings will rock your world, and take me where we want to go, drifting through the sky. Because the sky dreams, and it dreams of dragons. Dragons are real, you know, flying through space-time, running across the land. Never have I been without this knowledge, that most things aren’t really stable matter, but merely vibrations, so it doesn’t matter how steady his hand is: it’s always moving. If we fly fast enough, we can escape the growing wonder of the sun, and hide in the dark, saving the beauty of light for another time. Maybe I’ll see you there, maybe we will meet in the sun. When we do, I’ll tell you how the story ends, because right now, I don’t know and I’m slightly confused. Big brown boxes look so small out my window, even though I can’t stop looking at them for some stupid reason. Do lions purr? I know a dog that does, who thinks she’s my mother. She isn’t, really, but I let her believe, because we all need something to believe in. Looking at the same view all the time isn’t going to win a crown, but I don’t care, because there was a reason for everything about two years ago. If you live in a place where you can run forever, don’t move away. Stay right where you are. Because you live in the right place, just like me.