Once again, moving at a fast pace, I somehow manage to keep up yet I still yearn for simplicity. Below the sea remembering higher elevations, I am not quite certain whether I would rather swim or fly. Journals are piling up on my over-stocked bookshelf, and though their importance relies solely on me, I seem to have no need for them. Stuck in a season when waterfalls ice over, mountains decorate their peaks, and the skies and the earth become one single shade of white, but down here, far away from glaciers, this winter season exists only from the calendar. Simplicity. These journals I speak of give me pleasure. They are relics of my life, brandings making my possession of breath and space. I have not been close with my pen and paper for the past two years, and now I must train myself to be as witty as I once was. It was my misunderstanding that without recognition and financial rewards, these writings would take me nowhere and are a waste of my time, but upon this second I have realized their importance to me nonetheless, I have realized that my journals give me a sense of pride, accomplishment, and relief, and it is this realization that renders them, this is why my diaries are needed. As for winter, I shall have to reminisce about acres of snowy Christmas trees inhabiting mountains, the soothing smell of wood burning in fireplaces filling the air, and appreciating the feeling of walking into a warm room from the immense cold until a suitable solution has been discovered for my fickle tendencies. Still keeping up, I feel the need to pull ahead and exploit my capabilities. Obstacles have not changed their courses, and the sooner I map out my route and stick to my plan of action, the sooner I shall behold simplicity.
December 5, 2001