today is sleeping late, homework, and bread baking. rain, rain, rain, rehearsal, and more homework. (there is lots of homework, and that's ok. i'm getting used to it again.) tea, leo kottke, and the sound of passing cars, the temptation of my bed.


the rain makes me feel languid and makes me want to bake more. maybe a second loaf of bread, cookies, if it were summer i'd say pie. i find myself increasingly inclined to nest: last night, people i like spending time with asked me to go to The Bar with them, and i declined because i wanted to curl up with my pillows and my women's religion text. i've been very absorbed in making my little house just right, with new plants and new curtains and more pillows and candles and such. it's funny; i harbor this image of the nomad, the gypsy queen who throws everything she needs in a pack and sets off into the sunset, and i've always sort of assumed that that was something i aspired to. really, i don't think it's true. i like having a home, a place to return to, and i like it filled with photographs and knicknacks that remind me of people i love, i like details and pots and pans and flowers. i've passed the point when i can fit everything i want to keep in a single car, much less a backpack. i have the desire to point out that if i lost it all, i'd not be devastated; nonetheless, i do feel much more comfortable, psychologically and emotionally, knowing i have my nice little house to come home to, with all my books lined up. y'all should come see it. it's perfect.