Rain Drops on My Head

I'm Patricia, and here you'll find things on life, the world, people, relationships, and why the rain falls down. Most of it will be stories or babbling brooks or flotsam and junk I find floating around. Feel free to comment and critique.
aseaofquotes:

Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

Would it be bad to say that this defines quote defines me? Or, rather, that it redefined how I see myself?
No matter what I do, I am always here. Even when I strive to escape old habits, or see the world differently, I, at my core, am always me. What’s the point of trying to define myself, then? Perhaps I should go with the flow, but… that brings unhappiness to the people I know lead that kind of life.

aseaofquotes:

Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

Would it be bad to say that this defines quote defines me? Or, rather, that it redefined how I see myself?

No matter what I do, I am always here. Even when I strive to escape old habits, or see the world differently, I, at my core, am always me. What’s the point of trying to define myself, then? Perhaps I should go with the flow, but… that brings unhappiness to the people I know lead that kind of life.

I skip when I cross the street. Might as well.

Lately, we have both been busy with our university work. We are lucky if we get to talk once a week, where before we could talk almost every day. But, still, I get that boundless joy when I read the letters he still sends me. Even with their brevity, the fact that they still come says more than he can ever convey in ink.

interwar:

A marine moves on to catch up with his unit after he has covered a dead comrade with a poncho cover and marked his position with his bayoneted rifle. Battle of Saipan, 1944.

interwar:

A marine moves on to catch up with his unit after he has covered a dead comrade with a poncho cover and marked his position with his bayoneted rifle. Battle of Saipan, 1944.

It’s been a while

I’ll try and maintain this blog again. Stay tuned - I have lots to say now that I’m in college.

Realization

It is you. It is you that somehow framed my life, but you were not some cheap frame that goes on sale in some furniture store that holds a portrait of some girl or some place but the frame that has no color or form, but something like the swaying shadows of the trees. Perhaps you were never aware of me until I reached you on your borders - I had a vague feeling that I needed you, somehow, but oh! I didn’t know, then. And you held me, even as I changed dimensions and textures. I am young, so I developed as I learned - a bird house warming in the sun, a breathless laugh, a stumbling shadow at a bonfire. I was never satisfied with who I was. But I grew. And I reached you anyway. I reached you, felt your edges and weak spots, and as I grew I found just how much I fit into your shape. You held me together, and supported me so I could display who I am to the world, without fear of falling down.

And you? Some would say that some frame like you were only that. And no one could see you. But once you disappear, ah… There I float down down down, nowhere to be found…