last night i had a good journal writing experience. so many things have been eating at me. thoughts, that is. ideas and worries and wonderings. i wrote them all out. i asked the questions. i thought about the answers. i found some truth and i cried. i resolved to write in my journal more often. i used to do it at least three times a week when i was in school. i had a journal writing hour in-between classes and it was good. good for me.

i vaguely remember that church was good yesterday, but i can't recall the specific individual goodnesses. that's what comes of sitting down to write but following other fancies until the desire to write has left you. i do that to myself all the time. i wonder why i do that. i compel myself to waste time. i divert myself from useful activities.

work was long today. the afternoon in particular dragged on and i had/have a head ache in my temples and mark was so ever present and so annoying. only one who knows mark can understand his ever-present-beat-you-down-to-weariness-ness.

me and karey and elicai turned over an old leaf and went to fhe today. it was at jen (the daughter of the man that bought dad's trombone from him so he (dad) could get enough money for his mission) and yolanda's (jay's sla.'s fiance?) house. they don't live too far from us. the lesson was short and good because it was on goals (shockingly) and i've been thinking about goals i want to work on but i haven't written any down so far and karey and elicia said the same thing. then we played this fun game that i think would be a good family time game. it involves dice and grabbing a pen away from people. say no more eh?

with much stress and doubt karey has made cinnimon buns that we must all now partake of. i leave you with a poem i like by Dylan Thomas


Fern Hill


Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and
cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was
air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the
nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking
warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace.

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would
take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

Dylan Thomas

ps. there's another short entry below.