everyone's so focused clearly with sunshine

I'm not writing to appease some deep longing in my soul. I'm blogging because my roommate made me. I want some yerba mate right now, i want to fill it with soy milk until the tea becomes a comforting color. I want to let the grains of unprocessed sugar fall into the cup, to swirl and spin all the way down and to settle on the bottom and wait until i rediscover them. I want my friends by my side. I dont want to be alone right now. I miss Mallori, I miss Talisha, i miss Eileen, I miss jamie because she is at work. I want us all together again. I want to be with these people so badly. We would be drinking mate now, we minus jamie, she doesn't like mate. But we would drink it, and reminisce as only young folks do. We would probably quote some SNL skit and some dumb thing we did in the past. We'd remember the times we went to the river, mexico missions trips, times in Talisha's yellow house, memories from our church, BSB songs, Jack's Mannequin lyrics, hippies, willits-ness. My eyes of blue dart from my screen to the red bag on my top shelf. I read the title Mendo Mate, and i know if i just opened the bag and shut my eyes. If i could just breathe in, a deep deep breath, and let the smell travel to my heart, i just wouldn't miss them so much.


I have to be content


Thats the issue at hand. I'm growing up. I'm a 'big girl' now. Hopefully not in clothes but in maturity. I will be responsible I want fudge, but thats the PMSing Princess inside me talking again. I feel like my blog is headed towards the boring side now.....blah. what can heal it?

HAIKUS!

reading is my pal
white socks keep my feet warm
heat is nice, real nice.



lets imagine an American Lit class in a hundred years interpreting my deep ponderings here. Well the prof would say, pacing the carpet, 'this is a poem about deep longing. Lets decode it. this is the Rosetta stone, you are the archaeologist. what does it mean to you? what inner longings fill your soul when you read it? do you think this poet had any religious convections? Is this a cry for help? What does 'white socks' mean?'

it means nothing. i'm lying on my bed in white socks+ the heater is on, I love the heater, i like to read, i was reading my PR textbook until i started blogging and it was so facinating, thats why reading is my pal otherwise i couldn't read.
Interpreting others work scares me. Especially art work. How can i see through their eyes? how can i breathe their breath? paint beauty with their brushs? how can i understand if i've never lived it? can i understand the pain of losing a child until i feel the pain of childbirth on my hips?
i dont know.