L-O-V-E It's for you and me.

I feel it. I feel it truly. I feel it truly in everyway. I feel it truly in everyway and everywhere. It's a real love in every shape and form. It is a love that can only come from my maker. The one who is the maker of heaven and earth. The one who created perfect tiger lilies and the raging fire in the sky. Him.
It's a love no one can match up to. A love that reverberates from the rustling of leaves in the wind or from the electric chills that race through you as rain falls upon you. A love that leaves traces of salty water upon my cheeks. It's a love that is too awesome and ahmazing to even understand fully.
There is nothing to hear. It's not really all that palpable. It can't be seen by just a glance. I don't even understand how much there really is. I can't even come close to comprehending all that it is. There is no way that I can even reciprocate it.
Yet, through every leaf that crunches beneath my feet, every bout of chilling wind that cools my cheeks, every dog and tree shaped cloud, every bit of laughter resonating in the air, I know it's there. And most importantly, through every black letter on the pages of that worn leather bound book, I just know it exists...and that it's all mine.

"I was just being polite."

I absolutely can't stand the phrase, "how are you?" It's supposed to be this wonderful magic phrase that shows that someone cares enough to ask about you, but I don't think it to be this at all. I just don't think people realize the full meaning of what they are asking. The phrase "how are you" holds, what could be a truly complex and potentially mood altering answer. Those simple 3 words could hold the key to an emotional meltdown. Those 3 words could lead up to the best news ever. They could lead up to the worst news ever. Or they could be motivation for the most monotonous story ever. As anticlimatic as that was, it is true. So before you dare uttering that phrase, think if you really care about how that other is.

Where's a time machine?

I'm so frustrated with where/when I live. I just don't fit in. My music taste is different. My ideas of fun are different. I don't date nor do I want to. I'm in love with an extinct art form and God knows what else. It isn't my placement on the globe or a difference of a decade or two. It's plain as day, a full 200 years. I've definitely touched a little bit into this when I proclaimed my feelings about the feminist movement, and you know what? They have only greatened. I feel like I'm living a nightmare that I will never wake up from. And then I go and try to tell someone what I mean..and they don't understand. I always get a "you're weird" or a "umm..that's different" and not much else. Is it really that hard to grasp? Is my thought process that far away from others? I don't know and that is why I'm frustrated.
Honestly, the only problem I'd have with living 200 years ago would probably not being able to bathe frequently and not being able to quench my insatiable thirst for knowledge since my standing is of the wonderful female persuasion. Lonely Alaska calls. A place where I can ostracize myself from the world.