Friday

Cold, waiting for the bus.  Breath rising in a slow exhale, just so I can watch it dissipate.  The sun hasn't yet risen above the horizon; moon still high in the blue sky, but on the westward decline; one chasing the other across the open expanse.  The snowy mountains glowing pink in the warm morning light.  A crow caws insistently, flying over me and northward, joining other crows.  Flocks of pigeons turn sharply in unison, flashing sun then shadows across their bodies.  Waiting.  Behind me, a birch tree, bottom in dull color, middle in monotone silhouette, the very top, where it reaches above the rooflines, glowing gold.  The crows return, in close pursuit of a hawk, a languid, half effort, more for the sport of it than an actual battle.  Then the bus arrives.

So much to do, so little time to get it done.  Concert is actually this weekend, rather than next.  Got loaned a new dress, but will have to find time to hem it.  I haven't tried it on yet, I hope it fits.  The more I think about my task for this week, the more it becomes about someone else (than who I thought it was about), slightly surprised it's got this much "juice" in it.  So much left unresolved.  Brushed over.  I'm questioning everything.  Such a long time ago...so is it love or revenge?  No neutrality there.  None at all.

I think I know what I'm doing this week, except for the second relationship and what I know about him in that circumstance.  I wonder how many times I'll change my mind?  Seems strange to have any sorta' certainty about anything.

Nothing remotely boring about life right now...still, sometimes I just want a nap.