falling in love to the colour of merlot.

So, it's been a while since I have last blogged. I don't even particularly remember my last blog, but there was one...at some point in time, somewhere in space...err...something. Anyway, having been recently inspired by a particular person's blog, I have decided that I might as well try again. After all, I really do think about writing all of the time (literally, and I can't explain why I don't just do it) and most of you know how many notebooks I have and carry with me to write random crap in, so why not just add it to my social networking officially. I have added a little feature to my bloggerblogs that easily allows me to post to Facebook...aka be all BA about blogs and actually putting them in peoples' faces (aka newsfeed). Now, getting to the point, shall I?

Working at The Orange Leaf is probably my most recent social and financial advancement. I mean, consider the influx of people coming into the business, oohing and ahhing all over the layout of the place (mostly just the toppings), and then overfilling their cups and paying literally $12 sometimes for a f-ing frozen yogurt. My fingers have acquired that special cashiering skill of swiftly pressing buttons and lifting register flippy things, sliding bills in-between discussing the customer's change, chinking coins down on the counters with such precision...

Basically, I'm making mad cash and gaining extra customer service brownie (you wouldn't catch this double entendre unless you are familiar with the excessive number of brownie-consuming Orange Leaf customers out there) points called tips. I'm proud of myself. And with the number of accessory-related compliments and little blurbs about life that I throw out there whilst juggling toppings, money, and overall novelty--I just don't really feel the lack of a social life at the end of a workday. Plus, I get plenty of reminders about how many people here are just plain. Similar. Talk to one, and you've talked to them all. I will grant that there are the select few that stand out as beautiful people, interesting-looking people. But, sigh...

Scholastically, I have a lot of drive, but struggle with actually biting the bullet and reading all that I really am supposed to read. I'm still trying to convince myself that I like reading, and I will continue to lie about it until something changes.

And where is my life going these days? Who knows. I spend a lot of time making coffee and a daily morning routine, though, if that counts. Random Spanish, English, and a limited assortment of words from other languages randomly come to mind at times. That counts for something. Eh. No art lately. No art at all. Some say love without art is worthless. I blame summer romantic, emotional, and existential hangups on my dry spell of late. Things of that ilk. Ilk ilk ilk.

Milk, almond milk. Honey almond milk.

Hurting is a wonderful thing--and on this note I would take great pleasure in adding that it gives you something to say. I think I spent around 4 hours talking to A the other night thanks to hurting and hangups, hangdowns, hang-all-arounds. These things bring about changes. And I feel that my soul believes it is deep, and it is that belief that is the depth and the height, which brings it to the weight--and the weight is everything. Weighed down by living and paying imposed prices in exchange for...what? Soul bags of dirt and sand that weigh...a lot.

A heavy soul is clearly a sensitive but strong soul, one prone to shifts and movements and esoteric statements that embody all that is and was. Dirt and sand are like that, you know. Pieces of things that have died and broken down into littler things, but even littler things can be heavy if scooped, shoveled,--hell--bulldozed into compartments stacked one atop of the other.

I wish I didn't get so upset about little things, like, the actual grains of sand and dirt in this metaphorical bags/compartments. I mean...what was behind the majority of the previous two "paragraphs" had to do with how much I accidentally paid for two peaches at Harris Teeter two days ago. $5.30 for two peaches: I couldn't even believe it. I, I flipped. I flipped the fuuuuhhhh out.

But really, I guess we all have to just deal. I did. Sitting in my car in the parking lot of Old East, I turned up the volume of the blues radio station, smacked down my mirror and slicked on some merlot-coloured Burts Bees balm, and voila, my sultry minty-fresh lips grew leaves, produced oxygen, and made the world a better place.

And in an attempt to not analyze how I began to feel better about my peach-related existentialia, I will talk about...you. Or at least mention how I miss you for no good reason at all.

You know, you can get your complete daily recommended value of selenium from eating a mere two brazil nuts. That's cool.