I like the idea of a minimal closet, but I am too many girls. I contain too many kinds to do it.
I tried to grow my bangs; I could not. This is a situation I find only increasing in inevitability. By the way: can inevitability increase, or, like infinity is it fixed in its lack of finiteness?
...These are the kinds of soul-penetrating questions that keep me up at night.
My big pet peeves at the moment are: people who don't care, lack of nuance, and a recurrent abdominal pain but that last one seems boring.
Every year I think things were simpler three years before.
I can't imagine the universe in which I don't prefer dresses. But I am growing more heart space for jeans. It was the Parisians. The allure of mum jeans and the perfect perfume.
Recent explorations of baby clothes & the sorts of free-flow kaftans I'd like to wear this summer have me further convinced I need to relearn sewing.
Please go look at the stars. In case you've forgotten to stare at them lately. If you can't see the stars where you are, look up photographs.
I want to plant so many flowers.
"When I haven't any blue I use red." - Pablo Picasso. I love that. Make do.
Make do. Make do. Make do.
I want to be surer. But I'd cease to be me.
Always I am thinking "I'd like to be _____. But I'd cease to be me."
Being me is better.