paused breath, fogged

beanie, ACTUAL PAIN // sweater, vintage // dress, vintage // boots, madewell from forever ago // ring and bangle, vintage

goodness. I miss the warmth and wrap of writing and posting here just as I miss the freedom of a schedule non dominated by school. one semester remains until I receive that multi thousand dollar slip which tells me I have achieved something significant and can move on to a career that will {hopefully} fill my soul. I love watching the progression of personal style. how one may transition from a certain aesthetic, then flip to the opposite end of the spectrum. not that this has happened for me, but my closet is filled with far more black, crop tops, and grungy items than it has ever had before. also, flawy, non structured items tend to be the things I gravitate to most now {as with this above outfit, long dress and loose sweater}.
today I was toying with the idea of starting a new blog. then though, realizing I still have many people that follow this blog {most likely without even realizing, since it has been so long since I've posted here} I thought, why not follow up here, post for a bit, see how it feels? I'm not sure if I want to continue on with this page but for now, I will. and if you have feedback, want me to stay here, don't have a preference, etc, please let me know. 
happy soon-to-be-April to all of you, and thanks for reading <3


the extraordinary ordinary

the mundanity of mornings off. 
when you wake up to a late alarm and don’t even bother to wipe crust from your eyes. it’s raining today, and the sound of drops and smell
of earth is potent in your nose. there’s no rush, yet there’s an impending stress to complete works, start projects, think up projects, make 
grocery lists in your mind —
there is little time for silence when thoughts are filling empty spaces. you sit on your bed with morning coffee, looking out onto a
landscape of wet eucalyptus, while nutty aroma licks your face. yet you fail to notice all of this life, this encapsulated and forever bursting
beauty — was all made for you. the train has departed.

you put down your mug and turn on your computer, lost in the iridescent glow of a craved reality which will never arrive.


perfect, such a thing?

so often i spend my writing time editing, going back, re-reading, "perfecting", in an attempt to reach an end result that is not my real truth. instead of blurting out the words onto pages that form so fluidly in my mind, I go back, slash, cut, and paste, reading over and over and over, I try to rearrange these lines and shapes into forms that sound like poetry, whatever that means. but isn't the real truth in the way my fingers hit these keys the first time? there's so much potency in words, especially unedited. the raw thought, in its simplest form. what if I were to leave it as that, and just that, nothing else? before it would have felt that my world was sure to collapse, though now it leaves behind a sense of peace. an honesty I could never achieve before. so here it is, my words and thoughts as they came into my mind, sprawled onto this page.
it seems a large part of the reason I've committed, lacked consistency, and recommitted to this blog has to do with that obsessive need for perfection. at this point I'm ready to say screw it, and let the words fall as they're supposed to, not as I imagine or desire them to. things turn out much clearer and kinder when I'm not molding them to be an image that's fabricated.