Observations

December 1st, 2024:

November 29th, 2024: Laughter cures all.

November 27th, 2024: Anxiety.

November 26th, 2024: Thank you God for another day.

November 26th, 2024: Break from work beginsm and the sigh I exhale comes from deep inside me.

November 23rd, 2024: The warmth unique to Christmas decorations.

November 22nd, 2024: Rains falls heavier from the eaves of the house, framed by the red leaves of the maple tree.

November 21th, 2024: Congested, but my health improves each day.

November 20th, 2024: Update: it's a cold.

November 19th, 2024: Persisting allergy attack; praying it's not a cold.

November 18th, 2024: There's no shade of yellow quite like a ginkgo leaf's.

November 17th, 2024: Cosplay serves the same function as a masquerade ball (longer article coming at some point.)

November 15th, 2024: The moon rises between the creases in the hills, setting the trees aglow.

November 15th, 2024: A well-blended sunset with a burnt orange horizon.

November 13th, 2024: Cheery red leaves against a bright gray sky.

November 13th, 2024: I tipped my umbrella away to catch raindrops in the palm of my hand.

November 10th, 2024: I was born to be a hater.

November 10th, 2024: Organs sound sacred.

November 8th, 2024: Know thy audience.

November 8th, 2024: Laughed so hard that my belly hurt. Endorphins are skyrocketing upward as we speak!

November 7th, 2024: The world keeps spinning, the sun always rises again.

November 6th, 2024: Strange, surreal, not entirely unsurprising.

November 6th, 2024: A sky blue enough to get lost in.

November 4th, 2024: Muddy pawprints on the sidewalk, cute.

November 3rd, 2024: I am alive.

November 1st, 2024: During my meditation, I watched a white tiger stalk in the moonlight.

November 1st, 2024: Gentle rain patters against the pavement and trees.

October 31st, 2024: Even pre-COVID, I can't remember the last time so many trick-or-treaters came by.

October 29th, 2024: There's freedom in knowing everything will change.

October 28th, 2024: A perfect autumn day.

October 27th, 2024: The horseback riders were dappled in the sunset's oranges and golds. This is for what life is for.

October 26th, 2024: Nobody in the world watches more public television than my family.

October 23rd, 2024: Even in the middle of the morning, the half-moon hangs misty in the sky.

October 21st, 2024: A sad piece of bread lays alone on the grass.

October 21st, 2024: Ahead of us was a car with a Connecticut license plate. What's it doing all the way out here?

October 16th, 2024: There's a white feather on my keyboard. I have no idea where it came from. Is it an angel's?

October 16th, 2024: First rain of the season: dark, dreary, cleansing.

October 10th, 2024: My period is late and a storm of hormones is brewing.

October 6th, 2024: I finally finished the cross stitch I have worked on and off since the start of 2023!

October 6th, 2024: As soon as I glanced over to my Kit Kat clock, it started waggling its tail again. And then, at some point during my meditation, it stopped again.

October 5th, 2024: There were three baby goats at my friend's son's 1st birthday party. I held one.

October 4th, 2024: Today's the most well-rested I've felt in who knows how long.

October 3rd, 2024: Two alpacas, one white and one brown with a cream head, are always together.

October 3rd, 2024: Nobody was around to unlock the door at work.

October 2nd, 2024: Even though I'm militant about taking my medication at noon, I didn't remember until 6:00 PM.

October 2nd, 2024: Even though I'm militant about taking my medication at noon, I didn't remember until 6:00 PM.

October 2nd, 2024: The tree shifts from olive green to brown.

September 30th, 2024: Why do I bother trying to save a broken nail when I already know its fate Because of the gel polish?

September 30th, 2024: A dust cloud hung in midair, not dispersing how you would imagine.

September 28th, 2024: It was love at first Tiktok edit.

September 26th, 2024: Power outage.

September 25th, 2024: A pair of sports cars tore through and out the parking lot, racing each other. On the battered road they made sharp, staccto sounds that made me think of gunshots.

September 20th, 2024: While wandering around Walmart, I understood why Lestat would be so bewitched by it.

September 20th, 2024: Flossing your teeth everyday not guarantee a mouth full of blood at your next dentist appointment. Even though she does this everyday, a part of me was scared the dental hygienist would loosen a tooth.

September 19th, 2024: Eyelids are heavy. I want to go home.

September 18th, 2024: Half the sky is blanketed in gray, while the other half is a rich blue pillowed with white clouds here and there.

September 18th, 2024: The dumpster overflows with black garbage bags.

September 18th, 2024: The scent of cinnamon permeates in the kitchen, but I can't find the source.

September 17th, 2024: Every day can be a New Year if you want it to be.

September 17th, 2024: Every day can be a New Year if you want it to be.

September 16th, 2024: The trees know autumn approaches.

September 15th, 2024: My observations have been inconsistent but I don't feel bad. But I want to be consistent again.

September 15th, 2024: The stalk of the century plant is gone. The wind blew it down or the neighbors chopped it down. Either way, I'm upset to see it gone.

September 14th, 2024: Every nail salon has a touch of acetone in the air, even only a small amount.

September 12th, 2024: The tall stalk of a century plant has sprouted up in our neighbor's backyard. I have never seen one grow in Northern California.

September 12th, 2024: A college campus thrums with ambition and purpose. I'm happy to work where I do.

September 9th, 2024: The tips of the trees are painted in scarlets and golds.

September 9th, 2024: Two flocks of geese were flying in V-formation. They'll either stay here or fly further south.

September 8th, 2024: The banana pudding pie is one of the most delicious pies I've ever had.

September 3rd, 2024: Even though it was almost a hundred degrees when I got home, dew glistened on the cobwebs anyway.

September 2nd, 2024: There was a rat hidden in the lemon tree. Not ideal.

August 27th, 2024: Poured an avalanche's worth of epsom salts into my bath by mistake.

August 26th, 2024: The lawn was dotted with tiny white flowers and even tinier yellow ones.

August 24th, 2024:The gibbous moon hung low and gold, glowing in the sky's darkness.

August 22nd, 2024:I saw at least six custom license plates today.

August 21st, 2024: Semi-trucks without a trailer look naked.

August 20th, 2024: On the drive to work today, a cloud of dirt and dust puffed up out of nowhere. I was inside the car and have no clue where it came from. It got in my mouth and nose, and I tasted grit all day.

August 19th, 2024: The light from the super full moon poured into the kitchen.

August 18th, 2024: The trees rustle from the cool evening breeze, the chill caressing my skin.

August 16th, 2024: Found a house with a banana colored door, so bright it was impossible to look away.

August 16th, 2024: A nearby tree has a tiny red fairy door at its base. I wish to walk through it.

August 14th, 2024: Summer seems to end earlier each year while still staying hot.

August 13th, 2024: Trees are bursting with these magenta colored blossoms right now. The flowers are tiny, clustered together in little bunches. Bees love them.

August 13th, 2024: Hot water and cold water make different sounds.

August 11th, 2024: It's wish seed season. There were too many to count on my walk. Doesn't that feel so apt?

August 10th, 2024: Among the red roses in the backyard, a blackberry bush has propagated. The fruit is plump and shiny, and doesn't taste as sweetly as expected.

August 9th, 2024: On the way home from dinner, I caught a glance of the sun for a second. It was a second too long.

August 9th, 2024: From the very second I woke up, I knew I had started PMSing.

August 8th, 2024: The temperature has cooled considerably, but it still feels so listless. Lazy hazy sky, lazy hazy summer.

August 8th, 2024: While on my walk, I saw eight dragonflies. Each of them were either blue, black, or gray. They circled around, flying without real direction.

August 7th, 2024: My muscles are remembering what consistent yoga feels like. They're reawakening.

August 6th, 2024: While he lays on the end table gazing out the front window, my cat likes stretching his paw out towards the sill. Sometimes he can't get a firm grip so the paw slips, but he keeps trying anyway. The paint has chipped away in places because of his claws.

August 6th, 2024: There are still several blooms on the jasmine bush. Small and white, they smell so sweetly.

August 5th, 2024: The sound of the freeway is ceaseless yet always changing. I don't hear it but then a car honks and I'm all too aware.