things.

i don't even remember days when they're done. do you? i go through them, marking down thoughts and moments, because i've been blogging from the womb (slight exaggeration, stop that, nobody likes that guy), but then i come here and i honestly don't remember how a set of tiny lovely things can just sort of build up into a whole day.

what a lame thought.

see, that's my problem as a, "writer." talking like this, like a plane-ride-carry-on-chick-flick-diary-writer - this is the voice i'm the most comfortable writing in, and also the least challenging. the most challenging is when i try to abstract my thoughts, which isn't any less legitimate, but transforming the meaning of my words with this seemingly incompatible imagery often pinpoints the reality and honesty i'd like to really know, you know? so i try to say things i see, and sometimes, i really like it. one of my favourite things i've ever said have featured the words moms and vagabonds. and maybe i should challenge myself more.

to say things.