Staring at the blank page before you, open up the dirty window, let the sun illuminate the words

So I have this friend who will, at random points in our conversations, ask straight up what I'm thinking. Most of the time I can supply an acceptable answer, but sometimes I'm caught off-guard. I'll try to come up with something, and it's not that I'm trying to show off or quickly pull something half-way impressive out of nowhere. The thing is that sometimes I don't think in translatable ways. Sometimes I think in images...especially when I sort of drop off into those zone-out moments. It happens when I nod off in class too. I'll go from writing archaeology lecture notes to sliding in and out of images in my head that make no sense when dissected from one another. But all together, it makes perfect sense in that moment.

I haven't written anything on this blog in a few days because it's hard for me to translate the goodness that's been going on lately. It's the same thing as the images. If I dissect it for you and list things out with bullets and Roman numerals, it loses something. But here's my attempt at both (the goodness and the images). Comfortable jeans (the ones with the ripped left hem), pinwheels, Moe's, pop songs that get stuck in my head, clean sheets, witty banter, stickers, paint on my foot, quilts, subways, lanterns, high heels, a few days off from school, corn flakes and Diet Coke, purple and pink smells, zippers, summer's coming, good posture, boys, books, Frida Kahlo, magnolias, notebooks, babies, packing for trips, warm sidewalks, unicorns, knowing things, birthday surprises in the works, Willie Nelson beads, polka dots, and Dirty Dancing.

So yeah, if that made no sense to you, don't feel bad. Sometimes I think it's odd that an English writing major has such a hard time with words...my alter ego must come from a culture that promotes images more than words to describe those images. Cheers.