rush.

Hello, again.



November is drawing me away from my running, busy, rush of a life and into her rainy cold arms. I go willingly. The thrilling blue that was the sky today is beautiful in so many ways, but it is the rain that makes me sigh.

Leaving work on Monday, the steeple of the church in Lawrenceville's downtown square was masked by the frigid mist. It looked absolutely like a photograph, and it won my heart. I want rain for days straight, until my fingers are wrinkled and my hair is curling with all the freezing cold wetness in the air. I crave more of those gray skies, with low mist engulfing all our buildings. We'll be walking in clouds, breathing white and swirling breaths in front of our faces; we'll be damp, cold, and rained on, but I will be so at home.

Because sometimes my heart just asks for rain, and will have no substitute.
In Georgia, this is a predicament for obvious reasons.


And so, when two days of bitter cold precipitation drifted down from the shrouded skies, I got a taste of what I didn't know I wanted. Now I want more.

Although, I will say,
today was glorious. November, altogether, is wonderful.

Now. I have a sentence or two to toss into the pile of inconclusive thoughts.


I have become so well-acquainted with this life I've been living since September. Within the first week of that month, I was officially taking all my classes and starting my new job, in addition to all the familiar things of church, family, dating, and friends. Suddenly, I was leaving my house at seven in the morning and getting home at eleven PM. I have wanted to fall apart more than once; everything changed so much, so fast, or so it felt. But I've kind of come to be on good terms with this busyness. I sleep enough, I eat enough, I don't cry alone in my car every day- I am alright. But somehow, as old questions find answers, my heart finds new questions.

I wonder if I have forgotten how to be still.

I've been home tonight with my family, just doing whatever. We ate and watched a movie, and I wandered up into the kitchen to do the dishes. Once that was done, I found myself pacing the hardwood floors, turning over possible to-do lists in my head. Homework was the obvious choice, but I wanted to let myself rest a little. I wobbled back and forth between "restful options" for like, ten minutes. Somehow, that didn't feel like relaxation. Somewhere in me, some little administrative assistant was chanting things about how I can't just go to sleep for eleven hours, and I shouldn't just eat dessert whenever I feel like it, and what's the point in taking a hot bath when I have so many things that I should be addressing, or doing, or solving? I bought new stationery, but I can't sit still enough to write on it. I have shelves of good books, but all my mind wants to talk about is how I should be doing something productive or "good for me."

Altogether, it is a very overwhelming chorus of seemingly well-meaning ideation experts who all seem to know exactly what I should and should not do.

I wonder, also, if I have forgotten how to seek community.

There is a line from an Azure Ray song appropriately entitled "November" that goes like this,
"I was afraid to be alone, but now I'm scared that's how I like to be."

I think that's how I feel sometimes. It's no good, my beloved audience, and do you know why? Because both ways, I end up filled with fear. I'm either "afraid to be alone," or "scared that's how I like to be."

But what if it is how I like to be? It's an intimidating thought, you know?

So many things press in on my heart and mind these days, and always. And I know it's not just me. I know that human experience is all at once both commoner and more diverse than we think. Because everyone has felt alone, or scared, or has loved the cold November rain- but not everyone finds the same answers at the ends of their questions. We connect, but we are not the same.


And so, these are my questions, my unfinished thoughts. Thank you if you've read this far. I have a lot of words in me tonight.


Little Things of Happiness:

1. Leaf cyclones, and the wind. I smile at them all the time. The wind feels so playful in cold weather.

2. Red sprinkles on top of whipped cream and hot coffee. It's good for you.

3. Mornings. Once I am on my way toward living the day, I enjoy them very much. Before that, eh. Who likes that feeling, anyway?


This computer is hungry, and I'm headed for hot chocolate of some variety, I think, so I think I'll be done for now.

Sleep sweetly, world. Thank you, again, for looking in on my unfinishedness. Don't forget, you can always comment... :)