Fair Flying

It's funny thinking about random little things, the kind of little things that seep into my thoughts and sit there for a while. I look over each individual detail and inspect them, string them out in a line, or in some cases a few. I watch, I gaze, I spectate. I try not to think too hard, but when I do it comes to a point of tremor. I can't push too hard upon one thought before it becomes more than a string. Soon a web is weaved. A canvas is painted upon, a bridge is built. And if there is a question, forget about it. There are always questions. And every question leads to another question. I guess life is a web of questions. And when we try so very hard to get one singular answer, it slips away, like smoke. Completely intangible, slightly incomprehensible, blatantly distant. And though sometimes I wish there was an answer to everything, I begin to realize that there are many questions unanswered. Life is indeed a big glob of questions. And that is perfectly fine. 

Sometimes, I like being able to just do nothing.  Those days when I've done everything I needed to get done, and so I have nothing left to do but sit around, drink tea and write or read. Sometimes I don't even do those things. I just sit and watch the clouds roll overhead, or the snow cascade to the ground like millions of tiny feathers. It's a big world out there, with lots of big problems and it can be scary. So sometimes, I like to just sit back and relax, and pretend that there isn't a care in the world.  And sometimes,  I wake up on days like today (a snow day, in fact) and imagine what it would be like if I had one or two days like this a week. Days where I can simply sit around, chat with family, and browse the internet. Read some books, eat some food, sleep for a while. I'd be in my own little world, my own little snowglobe, secluded from the rest of the planet. It wouldn't be perfect, but wouldn't it be cool? (Pun not intended.) p.s. I f