Masticated words; remember to swallow

It stopped raining today. It was so great that I opened the window. But you really don’t care about the weather here, do you?

I made my pie, and I’ve eaten most of it. I’m not generally a calorie counter, but I figure as long as I don’t eat more than half of the pie in a day, I’ll live.

I accidentally fell asleep early last night. I was going to take a quick nap before the eight o’clock television hour, but I ended up sleeping through until midnight. So what do you do when you wake up at midnight? I read some blogs and went back to bed, although I didn’t sleep very well, but it didn’t bother me. For most of the night I felt like I was just kind of floating on day dreams, but during the night. That didn’t make sense, but oh, well, swallow. Sad thing is that I slept in this morning too.

Jennifer once told me that punctuation is an art and something to be passionate about. I’m not sure if I’m passionate about it, but I do think it is an art. Following the metaphor, my punctuation is like throwing cans of paint at a wall.

Why do all bombs on the TV shows have wires where if you cut the right colored wire it disarms the device? I bet that in real life it doesn’t work that way.

Is spirit matter? It doesn’t seem to be a solid, liquid, or gas. Maybe the type of matter of which spirit is composed exists in an alternate dimension, meaning, not height, width, nor depth, but spirit. Scientists claim there are at least 11 dimensions, maybe spirit is one of them.

Having been reading many blogs recently, I think I observe a trend of frustration and stress. I think this might be due to the fact that many are working hard at school in a stretch of hard work right before the Thanksgiving holiday. I’m kind of stressed out too. But I think that if we all spend a moment to think of one or two of the things we enjoy, and then do those things, then we can see a reprieve in the rains and storms that come out ways.

Someone told me they loved me the other day. Well, actually, they just wrote it and I read it. I’m pretty sure they were meaning the kind of friendly platonic sort of love, but it felt good anyway.

Change is a funny thing. I mean, sometimes we grow up in life expecting things to be a certain way when we are a certain age. And then we reach that age, and it isn’t what we thought it would be like. Do we give up our dream and follow some more practical ideology, or do we continue to follow our dreams trusting that we will someday grasp them?

Ah, my heart doth ache for that which doth not disappoint.

Related posts

1. Writing down dreams
2. It is like I have a peripatetic mind
3. Last day of classes
4. Cold
5. A congeries of different thoughts