Okay.
I'm sat outside the train station, waiting for my friend. She's still nearly ten minutes away. The sun is incredibly bright, but it's not really warm? I don't know how to feel about it. I don't really know if I should feel anything. But oh well.
I started practicing songwriting yesterday. The idea is simple. One song a day. Every day. Maybe I'll get better at it. I also need to practice playing music, and writing other forms of prose, and working on this damn site that I'll eventually upload this to (my laptop has been fucked for over a week now. That's how abysmal the restart earlier last month went, but I guess a false start can be recovered.)
I want to be everything. I want to be who I'm meant to be. Is that not enough? Is that too much? I don't know.
Being back in Cambridge brings such a warm feeling of dread; a comfortable resignation to the whims of both nature and humanity. The sun keeps fading behind the clouds in a rare break for what has otherwise been a bright, sunny day. The birds won't stop chirping. The wind won't stop shivering. But it's nice. I feel a spirit imbibed within me calling to be reeased in lyric. Perhaps I will listen after a brief hiatus. The fact is, a couple weeks ago I proved that I can write songs. Now I need to prove that I should.
Aah, lovely, the sun is back. The breeze hasn't stopped me from staying warm, and comfortably so; not the usual sweat-fest I get subjected to. I'm the only person here, at least in a sense less ephemeral than everyone else. This is a fairly common path, but it seems no one stays for very long. I'm sat on a tree stump, so clearly options are limited.
Perhaps lyric and poetry best express themselves when least intended to. The Bible is a great place for poetry, especially if I learn Hebrew as intended. I haven't updated the website in ages but that's only partially my fault, and I've still actually been doing website-related things.