I am a clenched fist.
I am a tied knot.
I am loose change falling out when you grab your receipt.
I am a debit card, when cash is only accepted.
I am a lovely instrument that no one's ever heard of.
I am sandals crossing an over-filled ravine.
My finger tips are currently fueled by delicious espresso and the previous invisible bullet points express my -ness ever since this January. Though most are inconvenient and annoying, they aren't the majority of what I am, just the ones that would come out most creative and well, appealing. Because I'm happy as a bird with a fry.
But let's try positivity anyways...
I am a perfect folded paper crane.
I am a gold medalist in the race I'm running.
...
....
hahahhahahaha. The latter is at least silver material.
So here I am about to end the first half of the last half of my 2.5 part saga University education. To my left is my wallet which is filled with punched out fiji yogurt cards and a bank statement that reads: You're a loser and to my right are spanish note cards split into two piles of words I for sure know and words I have no effing clue... Luxury=el lujo, Others= ???
Ah, can't you just taste the selfless symbolism?
Where does the tiempo go my friends? Every day is different. Sometimes I'm calm as a clam (assuming their species are labeled according to their emotion) and other dias I'm crazy in how I spend my time thinking serene prophetic thoughts, which always succeeds in leading me to become a crazy clam. Though the imagery is giggle worthy, my life in the midst of preguntas offers me minimal humor. There's not a lot of time to even gather thoughts, which I find inconveniently strange.
I wish life would slow down or go really fast. The other day I blurted out "I wish I was 30 in my cabin, typing on a typewriter with messy hair." Everyone gasped. Age doesn't scare me...yet, but I'm trying my best to enjoy the state of the union--union being current status. But really, there are no mediums in my mind of what will equate that constantly amended concept of satisfaction. I like being 21, I wish I was 30. 24.5 it is.
Maybe I can find the medium in my purse or on a note card..
No note card.
But here's to the existence of Jesus,
Tracy
