uncommoncold

i want to fly and fly and fly and always let go.

there are too many dreams i can't control.

camping tomorrow, on quadra island. i haven't been since the summer. it might be amazing, but it also might be devastatingly awful, given the potential for drama within the company i keep. either way, i will have my latin textbook and thucydides history of the peloponnesian war and the ocean in front of me, draped in fog, and let's not forget the tree-lined sky.

so really, there is nothing holding me back. ever.

my dad built the cabin we're going to several years back. it has shingles and an angled green roof. we fashioned a makeshift hot tub out of an old bathtub from a construction site, rocks, water from a nearby creek, and good ol' fashioned fire underneath. clever, no?

now, to continue this essay of doom. the iliad is sucking my soul out of my ears. if anyone wants to write it for me, i'm perfectly willing to do just about anything in return.

and, to conclude: not so secretly, i have a crush on tom robbins.