stream of consciousness. it felt good.

That boy wanted to meet me but stayed away. Either because he was shy, or knew he wasn't allowed. I respect both of those things.


I have orange juice on my hands. thinking about "Oranges" by Gary Soto. 


listening to a song about rain, sitting under plexiglass or something, listening to real rain.


I like rain because nature likes it. As I walked over here a bird was singing. It made my heart grin.


I've stopped worrying about it. (boy) It's a conscious choice not to worry. I trust God, and anyway, I can't do anything about it over the summer.


I've calmed about that too. Six weeks in a town that is no longer home, and then eight on an adventure, one at home, and back to school. It is hard to go home, to let go of my independence and be away from my community and keep my schedule of things productive.


On facebook I was told to get a coke, to help me study, so I did. $1.50 of real money and c 69 (no cents symbol, sadness) of meal plan. A coke and an orange. I don't drink soda much, not being a huge fan of carbonation, but once in a while, I enjoy the bittersweet taste of syrup and caffeine, gross as it is.


It is my rebellion- this harmless-in-small-doses poison.


I need to study but I do not know how.


There is a child downstairs crying.


Rain.


I'm writing in cursive.


All of this is soothing.


Two tests ago, I sat here when it was over and wrote a poem about fruit picking, a simple life with no television.


I'm an idealist. I hope I never give that up.


Soda makes me burp through my nose. It's rather inconvenient.


I'm watching rain drops collide with the windowsill.


No music in my ears, orange dust and sticky juice on my fingers.


A quiet existence,
simple, 
content,
and EXCITED. but a quiet, assured sort of excitement, not a IHAVETOSHARETHISWITHTHEWORLDRIGHTNOW sort of excitement. (today, anyway.)


I have great friends.


The sky is beautiful. I think the sunset will be gold tonight.


Once this school year, I sat in the union on the third floor when the sunset was gold and thought how I wanted to be the sunset, and then marveled at how God loves me MORE than the sunset. 


I love these people. I still ache for wilderness, but it is the people... I can't be a hobo and live in the woods. There are days... but I LOVE these people! 


and then the sun burst forth and spread gold all over my face and legs and it was lovely.