A Blog for the Sake of Blogging.

There's been yet another cloudy day with only a brief and sudden peeking of the sun through the clouds. I spent the majority of the morning and well into the afternoon in bed, dreaming strange dreams influenced by His Dark Materials. The blinds in my bedroom were not glowing with the sun screaming through them and so I felt no need to get out of bed. This is how I determine whether I should rise from the sheets: if the sun is warm and bright I am inspired and excited to face the day, if not I'd rather live in dreams. For, they are so vivid and colorful. I dreamed last night that I was trying to save a young boy and I had to slip through several worlds which was only achieved by leaping through a mirror and when I did this it made a very loud swooshing, suction sound. I was in several different houses which I had arrived in by way of the mirrors. I was trying to find as many mirrors to move through as fast as possible and I felt that I could save the boy if I got away from the group of younger people chasing me.

It's strange because I read a lot more of His Dark Materials than I had read last night and there are many parallels which I was unaware of until I read it. I read most of The Subtle Knife today and when I had the dream I knew that in the book there were windows into another world but there were long scenes of a murderous group of children chasing the protagonists and they had to move through several worlds back and forth to escape. I remembered my dreams more vividly as a result of reading the book and there were some parallels which were unexplained. Perhaps there was some subconscious foreshadowing which I picked up on. Anyway, His Dark Materials is no Harry Potter but it is at least slightly entertaining if a bit boring and one dimensional (no pun intended).

The sun is warm and bright today and I rose rather early and wandered about the roof, soaking in the sudden sun, dodging bees and wondering when all those flowers on the tree that hangs over onto my roof ever did start to bloom so brilliantly. I've been trying to set things up to go to Honduras to volunteer in November and things are coming together pretty solidly. I am sure to have excellent learning and finally travel from this godforsaken country.

I am so tired of it here. I just want to explore new things, think in a new language, interact with people who are not Americans, who are deeper and more cultured and who actually enjoy the act of thinking and learning and living.

I love to feel the light wind on the back of my neck, to sigh softly beneath the sun, to read wonderful and wistful words while the breeze blows by. I miss the sun and long days beneath the shade of a nice tree. I want to travel through foreign lands and do whatever I wish for as long as I intend. And I have saved up the money to do so which is something rather impressive for me because I was never good with saving or with patience or with limitations on things. When I have money I want to spend it. But, now I have the ability to do whatever I want to do and while it's rather freeing it is also a bit frightening. But, I don't really have the ability to do whatever I want because now I have to go to work.

Darling, What Can I Do?

I've got no real excuses for the 7 months that have passed since the last time I posted here. Perhaps it has to do with some unnamed gentleman who I began to associate with this whole online world and who I wished to and have (relatively) succeeded to forget. Time enough has passed, I think, that I can begin to make some attempt to write personally without having to associate it with someone from my past. I would like to say I was distracted by the new novella (En Route Thereto) which is still a work in progress. It is partly true. I would like to say that Fernando is living and breathing and making attempts at relationships but this is also only a half-truth. Really, it's all been so slightly hidden beneath the surface and if I had any guts at all I would resign myself to spending the whole day tomorrow writing and then going to the gym at night. I could also say that instead of writing I have been attempting to do something physical but that is not turning out the way I'd like. I've been mostly working and cleaning and cooking and trying to figure out how to get out of this country and where I shall go.

The mice are squealing in the walls and I can hear the babies cry for their mothers. They are loud and shrieking and when I try to rid the house of their filth and nuisance it just smells all over the place or causes me to have to be responsible for the killing and ridding of things. I do not want to kill things and I certainly do not want to have to pull their smushed skulls from the inside of a "humane" mousetrap. And so their squealing and crying and peeing and stinking persists.

It is hard to write in this form because it is hard to ascertain to whom I am addressing this blog-thing. I want to write free-style but I know how annoying it is to read people's blogs when they talk about things you have no connection to whatsoever and it all seems so personal that it lacks in a great deal of objectivity.

I'm trying to relearn to balance between personal and worldly, between what I want to say in this silly little thing and what people want to hear. I might need a few more days to get caught up. And I guess it will give me an excuse to take more photographs too- which I've been slack on. God, look at me: living in a filthy mouse den, not writing the way I want, not taking photographs the way I want, working out well and much more than usual but still not as much as I want. Geez, I guess that's Winter for ya. Funny how the first day it seems like Spring I write again. I suppose the whole world will open up again once I get a little sun.

Let's just hope.