writing

This girl I know, love, has a girlfriend who writes. I've been reading her writing and it has inspired me. All it takes to blog is to take a few minutes a day and write... just write.

I'm going to try. I want to do this.

Thought for the day: There is something surreal about watching someone who is depressed become intoxicated, whether it be on pills, alcohol, or a combination of the two. To watch them spiral down, begin repeating themselves, slurring their words, staring off into space... This other girl whom I love used to call it a death spiral. She listened to sad music and would just stare at the computer and rock and cry. This time it is different. This woman I love moves her hands, her feet, obsessively - like my grandpa when he is upset. she just stares... I can see the thoughts moving around and around in her mind like an evil carousel. Repeating the same stories, adding new details, leaving out others that have already been spoken. I can see her father in her, I can see her mother in her, I can see her son in her.

Isn't it strange how each of us are a composite of so many other people? I have my mom's mannerisms, look like my mother, have my father's hair and eyes, act like my daddy, stutter like my big brother... and so many other traits from so many other people. Who are we, really? Driving back from meeting my father, I realized that I now had the parameters of who I am. Before, it had seemed like I was open ended on two sides. Now, those parameters are in place. I am still what I am - an amoeba in a corral, but at least there are sides on the corral now.

Enough for today.