I can't even form coherent sentences.
I saw a mind-blowing dance performance tonight at the Art Institute and my entire soul feels new.

Jess and Casey, I really needed everything that was tonight. Thank. You.

Every now and then there's a raindrop that was worth the entire hurricane.

I really need this photo lecture tonight to inspire the hell out of me.
I have a good feeling.

Saturday.

Face pressed against the home side of a cold window, I wait.
I note every movement: every car light, every shuffling leaf, every breath of wind that could be you.
Which amber gust will you slide in on?
Your bicycle is painting shadows on some street that hasn't yet met mine;
I etch the same shadows into the window with my finger.
Night drips from the moon. I collect as much as she will give me,
and put it in a vase for you.
The bricks start to whisper, and I know that you are close.
When the darkness breaks and produces your figure,
the entire building knows,
and my door opens without your knuckles having to ask.
You are here, and I can rest.
You are here, and we rest.

A prompt.

"Since you ask, most days I cannot remember..."

where I came from;
my origin like a track missing on a record.
My mother insists that I am from one location, my father insists on another.
But the unfamiliar places that they speak of are always different.
A beautiful kaleidoscope of answers that’s constantly shifting.
I have since stopped inquiring about this place-
I know that when I find it, it will tell me I am home.

Dear Swine Flu:
Can I please have my life back?

All my love,
Krystal

Futures.

What if we owned a cafe? We could bake and sell our own desserts, give daily dinner choices to our customers, brew only the best teas and coffee. We could play whatever music we wanted to work alongside all day, and make friends with all the artists in our neighborhood- display and sell their art, have nightly acoustic music performances, poetry readings. Maybe even hookahs? Why can't we just put everything that we love into a building, fill it with beautiful people, and make a living out of it?

I really don't see why not.

I want to go to New York.

I hugged her and added, "Thank you for everything."
She hugged me back and whispered, "Thank you for loving him."

One day, I will make a list of the 5, maybe 10 most important moments in my life-
this will be on it.

It's not that I don't like working, or that I regret when I have to spend hours on one particular project. I just get so caught up in the idea of each day being available to us just once, and that's it. And I worry about time wasted, and about opportunities missed because of a, b, or c. But I'm so young. And we have so much time. I have so much time. And I finally feel ready for what's next.

I want to study abroad.
And I need to work on speaking clearly, mostly about important things that cause me to hesitate and get tripped up.


It kills me that I couldn't answer that question tonight. First, because it really was the most monumental moment of my life- and that should be one of the easiest things to dictate. Second, because as hard as it is to admit, sometimes I want those days back. But whether they return or not, I want to be able to understand that part of my past. At least be able to relate to it. These aren't negative feelings, for the record, or at least they aren't now. I was struck with surprising sadness and regret at dinner, but now, looking back, I just want to understand. No discomfort either way. It's just different.

Scrap sheets of paper at work.

The reminder of a dress that passes my knees, ankles hidden in a cave of cotton shadow. I meet a pair of eyes that look more like vials of ocean water and am struck with a desire for sand and sunshine. When the clouds turn gray over the Chicago streets, the taxis dance and interchange in rhythm with the lake I love so dearly. The lake that laps and shines and waves and whispers. I listen closely and she tells me everything- the way I confide in you when the moon rests and these gray Chicago clouds disperse.

It has never taken me so long to come up with a photo project concept. Have I really never contemplated still life before? I found some pretty awesome work while searching for inspiration, though.

Dan Tobin Smith:

I asked you once and you couldn't answer. I figured maybe you were wondering, too.

Because you're honest.
Because you're genuine.
Because you have the biggest heart I've ever known.
Because you love your family with all of that heart. And because you've let me into it.
Because you make me smile until my mouth hurts.
Because you're intelligent and well-read.
Because the art you produce is incredible.
Because you inspire me to want to be better.
Because I don't have to hide my mess with you.
Because I am able to be more of myself with you than I have ever been able to with anyone.
Because you never needed to drink or smoke to have fun.
Because I still get butterflies.
Because you kiss my forehead.
Because we want all of the same things.
Because you're nice to everyone.
Because you remind me that I should be nice to everyone.
Because of all the awesome things we do together.
Because I didn't question that night for one second.
Because there is absolutely nothing missing.