“Wisdom in literature is the ability to convey not a system of truths which explain life but a certain depth of awareness in which life itself is lived more intensely and with a more meaningful direction” ¬†– Thomas Merton

Raining again. I’m writing papers. Eating Blueberries. Made my bed. Finishing Frankenstein.

I’ve been quiet this month.

It hasn’t been my all time favorite month, but I must admit I’ve gotten to do some beautiful things and for that I am thankful.

A favorite girl is here for the weekend. I love when people come into your space and instead of making it feel more crowded, you find yourself with more room to breathe.

I’ve been living the past few days with about three¬†spoonfuls of nutella on the side, at least.

Winter is here.

Short days. Cold days.

I can feel myself quietly rebelling,making big salads, painting my toes, but winter is winning.

The need to bundle up, hunker down, sleep a bit more, keep warm things and warm people in my hands.

Its dead week, then finals, then Texas, then Christmas, then New years, then the year is over.

The reality of this makes me want to just get under the covers of my little bed and not come out. Press the proverbial pause button on the universe. Please stop spinning so fast little world, you’re making me nauseous.