the 19th...

Last night I forgot to post. I'm still sick, coughing like a smoker, with the gravelly bedroom voice and all. Tomorrow we head to Minnesota for Thanksgiving. It's not likely that I'll be able to post until I'm back~ so much for NaBloPoMo. I don't really mind, though. As with most things that I enjoy, as soon as it became an obligation, it wasn't so fun anymore. I've been wondering how my NaNoWriMo friends are doing... and now I almost think that would be a better project. Not so public. More room for sounding really dull.

I'm sort of ok, really. Hormonal and ill and stressed out, but ok. Tuning in to the light and the shadow, trying to allow more gently for the latter to have its place. S'pose I'll share this little Langston Hughes poem and go to bed~

Gather out of star-dust

Earth-dust,

Cloud-dust,

Storm-dust,

And splinters of hail,

One handful of dream-dust

Not for sale.