Written about a week ago.

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A big white fluffy cat waits at the door.

The moon is out again tonight, and it is glowing a pale white through the thousands of clouds up above.

The 5 minute drive home from your house looked surreal, like i was living in a fake world, or a dream. I had such a strong yearning to drive to Tilden on a whim and watch the fog roll in as it wrapped the East Bay in a blanket of white fluff.

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Sometimes my dreams feel so real, and my waking hours so surreal that I am not sure which to believe in more. (Only very momentarily.)

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I like my orange hair.

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I have great friends, and I don’t thank them enough for it.

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Why does writing with black gel pens feel so good?

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Berkeley was nice. It’s funny how sometimes, you don’t realize you are friends with someone until you do something outside of the environment you originally met them in.

This entry was posted on Monday, October 4th, 2004 at 8:15 pm and is filed under musings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.