It’s Always Darkest Before the Dawn

Flash Forward Friday!

Weeks have flown by without me even realizing that I haven’t written here. Busy with my job, family and friends— I’ve had little time to write, which is distressing. As a Writing & Literature major at California College of the Arts, a small boutique art school with campuses in San Francisco and Oakland, I got into such a habit of writing poetry and prose that I found it to be a therapeutic experience rather than an assignment.

Nowadays, with little time to even have a few quiet moments to myself before I go to sleep, I feel like writing is really missing from my life. Without it, I feel like I’m wound a little too tight. Writing is a way to document all of the good that has happened to me in the past six months. It’s a way to process all of the “bad” that has happened to me to. “Bad” is written the way it is because I have such a mental block against change. I know it’s necessary, I really do— it’s just so hard to deal with it while I am in the process of metamorphosis.

I’ve already written here about my desire to own my own home. Someday, I can picture myself in a little bungalow or Craftsman cottage somewhere in Downtown Lodi behind an antique desk with a typewriter and a Moleskine journal. Written on the pages in front of me are stories about my life— love and loss, happiness and healthiness, excitement and enlightenment. It sounds picturesque, doesn’t it?

Maybe I’m being a little idealistic. I just think it sounds perfect.

Above: pictures around Beck Farms at different times of day.