sometimes, when i stop blogging temporarily, it's not because i have nothing to write. often it's because the thing(s) i want to write about cannot be written down (usually due to irrational worries on my part, and luckily not very frequent). these few days, there are actually many things i want to blog about but it's just so hard to type those thoughts down because i'm not proficient enough of a writer to be all cryptic and mysterious. when i try to be mysterious, i worry that when i look back at my blog in a few months i'll never be able to decipher it.
but suffice it to say that life is sunny and misty at the same time, which actually creates quite a nice impressionist painting in my head -- the mist and dewdrops reflecting the sun's rays and sending them in all directions... but i can't see my hand until i put it right in front of my face. and i can barely see you, but what's wrong with barely?
it's a beautiful day. surreal and confusing and subtle and beautiful.
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