The Brooklyn Bridge

(so far) 1. Tears 2. Hugs 3. Extreme Overeating 4. Loss of desire to go to work 5. Premature feelings of missing your job 6. Random hymn solos 7. Tears 8. Extreme Happiness 9. Scripture Hunger 10. Insomnia 11. Oversleeping 12. Tons of Exciting Mail 13. Desire to kiss and cuddle always 14. Desire to never look at a boy ever 15. More eating 16. Getting up early to exercise and eating Lucky Charms instead 17. Writing every missionary you know daily 18. Loss of proper grammar usage 19. Making lists 20. Losing keys 21. Sudden need to enroll in every Institute class 22. Happy tears 23.  Loss of motivation to do anything that requires opening of the eyes or moving of the limbs. 24. Surges of Satan eating your brain 25. Surges of the Spirit hugging your heart 26. Constant itch to move out 27. Extreme rage and hatred for anything that dares to stub your toe 28. Elongating of bucket list 29. Inability to let go of your mother whilst hugging 30. Crying over simpl...

This is definitely me at the present moment.

A tug on my hand, A kiss on my forehead. A tear on my cheek, And plenty on my my mind. One day we'll understand Why we chose this instead. We'll find what we seek And won't have to rewind. That day isn't today, At least not for me. Au jour d'hui, Tu me manques. It'll be okay, It'll be lovely. Tu es mon ami, Le futur est quelconques.

But love, first learned in a lady’s eyes, Lives not along immured in the brain; but, with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices, It adds a precious seeing to the eye; A lover’s eyes will gaze an eagle blind; A lover’s ear will hear the lowest sound, When the suspicious head of theft is stopp’d: Love’s feeling is more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockl’d snails; Love’s tongue proves dainty Bacchs gross in taste: For valour, is no Love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical Asbright Apollo’s lute, strung with his hair: And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch pen to write Until his ink were temper’d with Love’s sighs; O, then his lines would ravish savage ears And plant in tyrants mild humil...

I don't like them, at all really. I love cheese and to me they don't taste like cheese. They taste like machine. And the fact that you can see those giant salt molecules, not to mention the perfect divots surrounding the border. I mean, they're okay I guess, I like snack foods and it's in the family, so they're tolerable, but not delicious or particularly recommended by myself. Ironically enough, my lovely mother (who I do love, lovingly. Please refer to previous post) purchased about the largest box I've ever seen of them this weekend. And I've been eating them compulsively. It's all very representative. Which is...silly. Everything's fine, will be fine. My life is lovely, and as someone I love and admire very must taught me today, Nothing Is Wasted. Pain is for joy to grow. I believe, and I trust. And I love, very much. Hello Today, can't wait to see you, Tomorrow.