It's been an embarrassingly long time since I've last posted - sorry Dad. 

This quarter has been stressful, crazy, and wonderful. My fingernails never stood a chance. So I guess I pretty much failed my new year's resolution, but as CJ always asked me, "In the light of eternity, what does it matter? Diddlysquat."

Andrew was here this weekend, it was so wonderful. We hung out in the sunshine, ran down the queen anne hill, saw a play about Satan and some drunk irishmen. I miss that kid. 

I sometimes regret being so far away from home, it's hard to know that my brothers are growing up and I'm not there to watch them become the amazing men that they are. 

Today I'm working on my final pieces for my creative writing portfolio. It's been so great to HAVE to sit down and write poems and stories this quarter, I really love it. It's hard, and I don't know if I want to ever pursue it professionally, but I love it - so that's good, right?

Monday mornings

I wake early.
Before the sun stirs the city’s inhabitants.
Before the anthill metropolis swarms with
busy busy students, professionals,
rowdy families, and 30 something singles
with their canine children.
Before the morning breath of
stale routine pollutes the mountain air.
Before we glue to-do lists to our foreheads.
Before we drip espressos, and dress the kids
all alike in plaid uniforms and
before we send them marching single-file down the street
into classrooms where they sit in rows and aisles.
Before we follow them, file onto busses which follow
circuits, follow routes, follow each other, and
stop on the o’clock dot,
and open their doors that we might stream out
and disperse into the maze of
skyscrapers and city blocks.
Before we follow our feet to boardrooms, banks, and bars,
and stop at bakeries on the way home,
before we file onto busses, feed our children,
greet our spouses, clean our homes, set our alarms
and crawl into our beds.
On Monday morning I wake early
before the anthill swarms.