not sure what to right and wrong

Today, I thought that I had something that was right, pure, absent of any faulted blame. Now, I cannot remember what it was. I know that I read my homework in the book of Matthew and a commentary as well. I remember reading another book about what a guy gained from studying with his Jewish friends. I remember that I got to leave work at 4:45, to which I slightly hunched my back at the top of the stairs, curled my arm inward as I made a fist to release a silent 'yes!'. Lastly, I remember going to buy a rotisserie chicken at Target and contemplated if I should have wine or coffee. All of this, and I forget the purest moment of the day. However, I do remember hearing I Corinthians 13 in chapel. I recall that I am not filled with love, but hungry for it. Most of all, I remember that God loves me despite my lacking love for him as I will my own way. Finally, I find a piece of that moment to recall love and purely hope for its complacent return.

I am Owned...

Just a reminder to self that it sucks to be owned by humans. Thinking of the working world raises my blood pressure and makes me want to just shut out everything north of 31st street after the sun rises. Yep, I hate being owned. Worse, I think that I am what I am because I am too scared to try to break my silence beyond this apartment. Speak up Cristine! Well, I just wish that for once someone else would speak for me.
What breaks my heart is that this is only one of the billions of mini-owned human enslavements happening as the world turns and another sucky soap opera orchestrates soccer moms to bon-bons and lazy paxil hangovers.

Back Talking to Myself

Driving to and from a baby shower for a person I know little of gives me lots of time to enjoy the drive without overtly analyzing the former interactions and endless pastel colored packages filled with devices to clean up spit, poop, and the constant spit-up from someone that has not stepped or breathed its first breath into a murkily cheerful world. As the tires jitter over each break within the road, the sun lies down to upwardly cast its last light onto blackened forests and red velvet skies. The lights generate an overshadow reminding me of those shoe box displays that I loathed after reading another somber story of bunnies lost in a thatch or a boy losing his first molar and finding out that the toothfairy is less attractive than he once hoped. The trees do not move like transfixed memories pasted in my mind. My body relaxes into my stiff new car seat and I let some new music from a land far, far away take me back to a place that never left me but dumped itself into packed memories somewhere in third and fourth grade.
On nights like this, life seems like something to dream into a hushed existence. I do not want to force my dabbled thoughts toward reality. Instead, I want to let them melt on my mind in bright yellows and greens and then fade into something like a sunset. Something that happens each night as the world tucks itself to rest without needing reality to happen in constant motion. Dreaming with lots of time to pause but enough consideration to think toward taking a new step into a far away land or finding a way to make well with a flightful moment of serenity as each bump beneath the tire rolls away with my music lets me fall back like a girl crunching through my first pile of leaves without any worry of the trashman coming by to take them away before the winter sun turns behind the trees for a long rest.