cinnamon rolls and thunderstorms

job postponed till the afternoon. impulsive decision to go to briar rose for cinnamon rolls and coffee. since when did a driving rainstorm ever keep us at home?

shifting

 

i used to be concerned with photography taking over my love of running. i'm very much of an all or nothing type of person, not much grey area when it comes right down to it. for years i struggled with balancing my love of the two needs: am i a photographer who is also a runner, or a runner who is also a photographer? lately, i've noticed a shift in myself, a shift to where  that question answered itself, and i'm happy with the answer:  i'm right back to where i began when i first laced up my running shoes and went for a run.

days

 

mundane days. busy days. life filled days. quiet days. noisy days. peaceful days. chaotic days. winter days. barren days. grey days. color-filled days. routine days. up-in-air days. endless loop days. regular days. irregular days. sunshine days. thunderstormy days. empty days. full-to-the-brim days. christmas days. day-after days. sad days. joyful days. dreaded days. anticipation days. nonsense days. sensible days. silly days. serious days. adventure days. normal days.

all-in-a-day days.

 

just write. just sit down and stare that cursor into submission and let the words come out of your fingertips. don’t worry about grammar, punctuation, phrases that make sense, paragraphs that go on and on and on without any rhyme or reason.

just write. don’t be like anyone else, don’t let anyone else’s voice enter your head, don’t let anyone else’s style mess with what you want to say or how you say it. don’t worry if what you write doesn’t make sense to anyone else but you . . .if it makes sense to you, then you’ve accomplished what you set out to do. don’t worry if you offend someone out there in the world. don’t worry about stepping on some random person’s toes . . . they’re your words and no one else’s, your opinions and no one else’s. others can’t think for you so don’t worry about what others think of you.

just write for the art that lives inside your head, of getting out of your head all those whirling dervishes of thoughts and thinks, of memories and stories that are banging at the door of your mind, desperate to get out and live in the world. write to make sense of everything around you, things that you want to remember, things that you want to forget, to organize the chaos and to let the exhausted peace that comes after getting all those words settled and in one place, to let that peace exist inside you.

just write.