How is it possible for me to be so happy, and so unbelievably confused at the same time? Just when I think life is going in a good direction, I realize that it really isn't going in any particular direction at all, and the dissatisfaction of doing nothing at all even though I'm having fun doing it, overwhelms me. I suddenly feel immense pressure to hurry up and decide what to do with my life. What do I love? What is my passion - what do I feel driven to accomplish? And then frustration and embarrassment because I can't put my finger on anything.
Why must we make such important, huge decisions that will affect the rest of our lives when we are so young and have so little experience and wisdom? I get conficting advice from every direction, whether I ask for it or not.
'Just wait a while, you'll find it.'
'College isn't for everyone.'
'Go to college. Everyone should have at least a year of college even if they hate it.'
'Try everything, you'll find a fit someday.'
'Get married.'
And my favorite of all; "God told me you should do this. I don't know if I was supposed to say anything..."
But despite the muddledness of my mind, life is so sweet right now I can taste it. I feel that change is lurking in the allyway up ahead, and that's okay. The mountains outside my window change everyday, and everyday they are incredibly beautiful. I think my life is turning out to be the same.

We have to drive fast. We must find a spot fast. The sun is quickly sliding down the sky and will soon be out of sight. We're losing the precious, beautiful golden light too fast. Ah, here we are. We sit on an old picnic table, and joke about it breaking under us. We laugh, and feel cold and cozy at the same time. It's not adreneline, but akin to that.
"Smile" he instructs, but we haven't any need of that instruction. Smiling is what we do best, especially if we're wearing matching shirts.
"Lean in a little" he says. We lean, and toss our best smiles into the blinding sun. My eyes burn. Nine 'clicks' and we're done. Calling our thanks we run back into our car, out of the blustering wind. His wife runs around to our window.
"They turned out gorgeous!" she cries. "I couldn't let you drive away without telling you."
We go out to celebrate a successful photo shoot, and meet a fellow neither of us know very well. He loves that our shirts match.
"Oh yes. We just had a photo shoot. We're models for Abercrombie & Fitch now, you know."
"Good deal - free clothes, new car," he plays along.
The next day we see the pictures. They have turned out gorgeously. The color of the sun on our hair is unbelievable. We look so much alike, and yet our different personalities come through so beautifully.
Dearest Sister and Partner in Musical Crime: Here's to you, and a jolly good third year concert. Thanks for putting up with so much.

'Jude Law is so lacking in vanity that you almost forget he's shockingly handsome - until he smiles, and then it's Game Over.'
~ Vanity Fair

I work in a shop in the center of town. The sidewalk in front of the store kisses the mainstreet and on sunny days our emerald green crosswalks wink flagrantly at the tourists coming and going and oohing and aahing over every little mundane, adorable detail of the street front. They didn't grow up here. For them the town is all welcoming sweetness, here for their express pleasure to fulfill every whim of their vacationing desires.
Throughout the day groups of two or four women stroll in, either alone or with their reluctant husbands in tow. If husbands are present, the women rapturously admire the trinkets and bare unnecessities on the shelves in hopes of hinting boldly enough to open the wallet. And on occasion, heaven help the girl behind the counter, for the conversations one is forced to overhear can be scandalous!
"Don't Mess With the Cook's Buns" One old gentleman read the sign on the wall to his friend and laughed. "I should have that put on my BBQ apron at home. Jean's always grabbing me!"
His wife nodded. "I just can't get enough of him." Then, very confidentially, her husband leaned closer to his friend and said in a stage whisper "I thought it was good when we were young. But it just keeps getting better with age!"

Women often marry men they laugh at.

I'm stripping down.
Finding myself among the shambles of broken eloquence.
Realizing that what they want to hear isn't always what I want to say.
Discovering my convictions amidst the wreck of assumed beliefs.
Declaring originality and praying fervently I'll find it.
Stripping down to me
and God
and people
and life
and learning that a good day, and a hard day,
is when I decide to love what is right and beautiful.
I'm painfully aware that waiting is tough
hard
sometimes impossible,
but am prepared to grit my teeth and do it.
Wait, I mean,
For whatever the next hour
day
month
year
are holding for me.

Kreisler

Sell me a violin, mister, of old mysterious wood.
Sell me a fiddle that has kissed dark nights on the forehead where men
Kiss sisters they love
Sell me dried wood that has ached with passion clutching the knees and
Arms of a storm.
Sell me horsehair and rosin that has sucked at the breasts of the morning
Sun for milk
Sell me something crushed in the heartsblood of pain readier than ever
For one more song.

~Carl Sandburg