Well, it's late. I'm lonely. And I do believe that those are the usual suspects of catalyzing self-indulgence. "So," I thought to myself (As I tend to do. Thinking. What a nasty habit.), "I should write a journal." And write I shall. Let the writing commence:


I want a flying squirell named Riff Raff. He will either be hot pink or lime green depending on his personality.
I also want a falcon. His name will be Benvolio. I plan on doing falconry with him.
I want to lose weight. So, I'm back on my old diet. Old habits are sometimes disquietingly easy to break.

I wish I was eternally eight. Or five. Or six. I'm not quite clear on the exact age. But, I think you get the drift. The other day, I had a brush with childhood again. (Says the girl wearing thigh-high rainbow socks, snuggling a stuffed animal, and wearing a tiny bejewelled tiara.) It happened quite unintentionally.


On the sidewalk connected to the road of being UNfat, I power walked up a very steep hill with a friend. On the way up, I spotted an oak tree oasis in the middle of the brown grass that seems to breed around here. The oak looked so picturesque. Perched solemnly and patiently on the side of the hill with green grass framing it and a nice, flat protrusion of rock just under it's shade. I stopped and rose my finger, pointing at my new goal.
"Jessica," I started stubbornly, "I want to go THERE." With me being the eternally spoiled toddler and she being the eternal nanny, she agreed half-heartedly. Three bruises, two scratched calves, one fire ant hill, and many many deer trails later, we were at the tree. The tree was gorgeous. It reminded me of Tuck Everlasting. The views were breathtaking. There was a panoramic view of the whole self-absorbed cookie cutter life that was chosen for Jessica and myself. As we sat on the rocks, my light heart bobbed on its string in the playful breeze. My skin sang in chorus the praises of thermonuclear radiation. These are the things of dreams. As I sighed happily, Jessica squealed. "ANNIE! GET IT OFF! A BUG! GET IT OFF~!" I rolled my head in her direction and flicked the bug off of her borrowed shoe without a second thought. "Thank you." She composed herself again. "Annie..? Can we go now, please? This is a bit much for me." I just nodded, still in my serene haze.

Later, Jessica and I came upon a park on the way home. Here, I swung until I could giggle impishly at the sun as I invaded it's personal space. The sky was my playground. The wind was my best friend. Gravity was my babysitter. I was ageless. There were no worries in the world. No drug abuse or violence. Nobody was mean or unfair. I had found my utopia for another thirty minutes. Soon, the children's songs subsided along with the breeze. I scraped my feet to and fro against the tattered bark below, trying to stop the insistent tugging of the swing. Every pained squeak of its chain said, "Don't go! Not yet! Not yet! Don't leave me alone! Don't shatter the perfect world!" But everything has an experation date, and every summer must have a fall. I left my perfect world hidden behind the poplars for the next open mind and open heart to discover for themselves.


I suppose that about drained me. I find that I pour much of myself into my writing and I ride through the same emotions that I write about. Although, I feel the emotions tenfold. Perhaps now my short battery life is understandable. Nevertheless, I'll stop rambling now. Good bye.