It's one of those days ...

I like to sit and think. Or take a pencil (Ticonderoga 2.5) and paper and write unformatted, disjointed thoughts and words finding twists and turns and meanings out of nothing (which really might be something upon further scrutiny). I like to take words and structure phrases which, when structured correctly (because brilliantly is regularly out of reach and correctly is all I can hope for at this juncture) cause in-depth thought processes to fill every crevasse of the brain cavity as they fill up every space and line on sheet after sheet of notebook paper - college-ruled - because there has to be room for add-ins.

This is a day to think: dark clouds keep rooms shaded, bird songs creep through screened windows allowing the mood to balance, the Bose spins smooth jazz via saxaphone (though it would be so much richer through the spins of a turntable) and thoughts ramble from the brain and out to the fingers. Thoughts. Not many connections and practically zero direction. Till the rains come. And melancholy melts into itself and brilliance feels oh so close .... elusive, but close. 

It's one of those days when I wish I could go back and periodically choose different life paths though I do not regret where or who I am. When thoughts nearly close the doors on creativity because they come so fast, so full that writing or typing can't happen fast enough. And I wish again I had learned to set goals instead of being reactionary to circumstances and situations. Interesting connection.

Is there still time to learn? How to set goals, that is. Perhaps. Unfortunately, time has become the enemy of fulfillment realized, and life pages (on which to turn and write) have become too few.

It's one of those days .... And maybe I'll find words again when the rain stops.

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