Take it Easy

[flyakate]

Realized that I hadn't written here in a while, and my computer was behaving for once (knock on plastic). Not much going on in the wild world of Katie, though that's not that bad. My room is clean, and now I get to go through my piles of stuff and wonder why exactly I kept it. Never a very good answer for that though, is there? Dudes, I'm bored, so email me. I like emails. I'm not that bad a person, am I? Kidding, it's just that I've been stuck in the house for the past two days (shock!) and today Mom declared a no television day. Not that I'm missing much, but it's annoyingly... silent around here. Okay, I guess I have been watching a little too much if I care about the silence. Probably going to do something with Lorrie and Hope (and maybe Katy Churchill!) this weekend, 'cause Lorrie's friend from school is visiting. How exciting, I have plans! Anyone else want in on them needs to get in touch. Just pick up the phone and... dial. Hah, sorry, I'm a dork. Hope, is Nell's dog okay? Your dad told me it (he or she, whatever) is sick. That's sad. My dog is fine, though still a wimp. I have a fish (roll of drums). His name is Felix. It means 'happy' in Latin. See, I told you I'm a dork. But he is a pretty happy fish, so there.

Just finished 'From the Corner of His Eye' by Dean Koontz. A very good book, though apparently I was stressed while reading it, I kept noticing that I was clenching my teeth. Regardless, everyone should read it. It talks a lot about quantum mechanics, which is kind of entertaining. I think I read books too fast; I finished it in a day, and it was 600 pages long. Oh dear... whatever. To finish, a pretty poem I'd forgotten I'd had. May be applicable, or not, but either way:

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I do not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep
--Pablo Neruda

Reading: not sure. suggestions?
Writing: Annals of Necropolis, I think.
Editing: everything.