Flowers
Flowers have returned to my house. My grandma grows them; a Google search confirms that they are called Zinnias. I think they're quite lovely. I particularly enjoy how I seem to want to clean up more when they are present in the house. I feel as if they deserve a better atmosphere.
I just finished reading a novel about four strangers who are all running away from their old lives who meet and become fast friends. In the end they (nearly) all return to their old lives with a new perspective. It made me consider my life, and the people who I'm connected to. As strange as it might seem, I started thinking about how much I'd miss these flowers every summer if they weren't there. And, perhaps a bit morbidly, how I'll always be reminded of my grandmother with either their existence or absence. Maybe I'll take up the tradition myself, and grow way too many Zinnias for my own vases to handle. I get a feeling that this is how traditions start.
Recent Life
I've been feeling really well for the past week(s). And unlike times in the past, I feel like this contentment might be able to last for a while. Normally, when I emerge from a depression I have a day or to of almost manic clarity. In these times I can be almost obnoxiously optimistic, and feel like I've figured it all out, but there is normally a nagging voice that reminds me that I'll be just as bad as ever in a day or two. This is always true, and thus the process repeats. This time is different for a couple of reasons, or at least it seems. I don't feel like everything is perfect. While there is some clarity about my life, I don't feel like I've solved existence. I certainly don't feel like this will last forever. I know time will be when I'm upset, or sad, or what-have-you. I just feel good about things: even things I still fear, like anything having to do with my future. I just feel like that can wait, and I'll see what can be done now. There is, of course, the possibility that I'll go back to university next week and suddenly be plunged back into the abyss, but for some reason my intuition says otherwise. I normally have a very good intuition. I still don't know what the hell I'm going to do with myself however, I also kinda don't care. I'm almost positive that I'll continue on in some fashion, and that I'll probably end up doing something I enjoy. It's a good feeling.
Blogs
So, this has been a very Dear Diary type of post. I don't know what possessed me to type here rather than jot all this down in my underused journal. I was thinking earlier this month that I'd post twice a week: once as a personal blog, and once as a book review. I was thinking of reading one book from the Penguin Great Ideas series a week, and then letting my thoughts be known. I still like this theory, but I don't have the books yet, nor do I have much confidence in my ability to read and post about these great works every week. So I think, at least for the time being that I'll keep things casual, with no set posting times. I still want to read those books, and even consider reviewing/reflecting on them, but I'd also like to mix up my reading. I want philosophy, yes but I'd also like to read maybe politics, science, some poetry, great literature, and a bunch of less great novels. I mean, the book I just finished: "Nights of Rain and Stars" by Maeve Binchy, is no great classical work or philosophical wonder, but it did make me look at the world through a different lens, and I think I'm better off having read it. So there.
I think I could review "The Tao of Pooh" by Benjamin Hoff, as I've read it a few times now. It would make for a gentle beginning to the whole venture.
