cool days of warm suns. sad walks. repeated hopes.

i sometimes forget how much i like words.

but when i start a book that knows how to use them,

i often can’t get more than a page without writing one down.

or just writing in general.







days like this remind me of those lost moments you don’t know what to do with.

they creep up on you.

sly. in their sneak.

and before you know it, you forget yourself. forget the world.

and remember the inevitable timelessness that also can’t help its sneaking.

suddenly, you remember you love words.

the way sorrowful songs sound more real than non.

the dance of syllables that dribble on every piece of paper.


it’s cool days of warm suns.

sad walks.

repeated hopes.

with a cliched understanding of forgetting what you thought you knew.

lack of nostalgia.

and a sense of wander.

purposely placed.

to what end.

i’m not quite sure.


for now. i’m writing.

i can’t really tell you why my writing hiatus happened.

or how i didn’t realize it was.

but. i’ve been thinking about it these last few days.

as i separated my cyber space selves.

and. i don’t know how i feel about my dismissing of an entire aspect of my life without even thinking about it.

really how anyone can slowly forget the small habits of their life without a second thought.

but it happens a lot more often than i think i’ve realized.

we get so caught up in the random things that fall in our laps that the more permanent parts get pushed to the side.

i. was caught up with law school searches. leaving a hostile job. playing with politics. and worrying about what my summer is going to look like.

when i write them out, they seem less time consuming than they have been.


with law school:

i’m getting slowly used to this leaving-in-3 1/2-months thing.

but it still makes me slightly nauseous when i think about it.

the air is different over there.

the trees are even different.

and yet. i’ll probably forget all of the differences after a couple months of being there.

the hostile job:

i left it. or rather. it left me. it was more or less mutual.

(i needed it and they wanted it.)

while i loved.

french meadow.

so. badly.

 the customers. the people i worked with.

it was one of those places where a piece of me always felt terrible while i was there.

the atmosphere was poisonous.

and after you’ve been there for long enough, you’ll feel it slowly choking you.

but having such distinctly different feelings about a place (ya know…loving something that’s slowly eating you alive).

well. you have to be happy when it leaves your life.

but at the same time, it’s undoubtably sad.


i don’t think it’s a secret, but politics are my everything.

not so much the strategic get-me-elected

type of thing.

but more of what happens when you do.

how single individuals can completely alters the turn out of the future.

and how you can help that happen.



i don’t usually enjoy worrying about things.

and usually my worry transforms into plan upon plan of what-can-i-do-next.

that hasn’t settled in yet.

and i don’t know what i want to do next.

how i want to spend these next few months.

before law school. after that job. marinating in politics.

how do i want to carve out a few memories that i can take with me. put in a little box. and seal the past of my minneapolis life?

for now.

i’m writing.

throughout these few months.

and hopefully there after.