Morning Walks to Exams Heal

Waking up is the difficult part of getting up, but once I'm up, I'm up.

I feel revitalized when I wake up early, if I sleep early; I feel as if I have the whole day to accomplish a number of things.

Freedom is when I'm relieved from something that has been burdening me.

I returned from my Chemistry exam, feeling particularly optimistic. I saw a couple hugging, and the tiny girl went on tip toes to kiss her boyfriend. It was a blissful and envious sight. Then her boyfriend gave her a cigarette and that innocent image of them shattered. I wanted to laugh at how stupid I was. I, too often, look through rose colored glasses. Though, this may make me a target and more vulnerable to certain occurrences, I prefer to confide in and trust my naive side so I can be more at ease.

An old friend of mine was talking about love again. I'm beginning to look at love as a myth. Where's all that passion and understanding and perfection that love is supposed to bring? I'm sure that I'm looking at it from a critical or, at least, from a superficial point of view, but it's because I'm happy with being single. I don't have to constantly worry or care for someone else. I don't have to think about if my words will cut or if my touches will excite. I am fine with being just me, and not me and so and so.

Love, like happiness, is elusive. If I'm ever fortunate to fall in love, then I would embrace it whole-heartedly, but, for now, I'd rather strive for my personal dreams.

Books to read:
One Man's Bible by Gao Xingjian (I never finished it!)
Flight by Sherman Alexie
The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie
The Love-Artist by Jane Alison

I skimmed Jane Alison's novel; I think she has a big crush on Ovid, since he's the main character.

Sonnet 130

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Obama, you sexy President you!