April has been.. a weird month for me. I barely remember any of it; it's flown by so quickly. I've been drawing like a crazy person, that much I remember. Saw Captain America with the bestie. I really enjoyed it and honestly almost went to see it again. .. Rabbit trail... The music this month, seems to be mirroring the month perfectly; it's been very good and inspirational and making me dance like a loon more often then not - despite the fact that my memory isn't fully intact.
So here you are. The music I've adored this month of April. Listen with joy at a volume proper enough to fully motivate you to dance like a loon.
Sandman - Hurts
Magic - Coldplay
Birds Lament - Moondog
(honestly, make a station from this song on pandora, and that's mainly what I've been listening to this month)
Chocolate - The 1975
Sweater Weather - The Neighborhood
Talk Dirty to Me - Jason Derulo feat. 2 Chainz
(it's the chorus bit that I love..)
Lana Del Ray - Once Upon a Dream
Tongue Tied - Grouplove
She's Got You High - Mumm-ra
Santa Maria (Del Buen Aure) - Gotan Project
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Monday, April 28, 2014
I finished off another sketchbook..so...
I went through a full sketchbook, cover to cover, in under four months. Usually it takes me much longer to do this. Usually because I simply don't feel inspired nor have the time.
I'm so giddy to be starting another one, that I thought I should take a moment and reflect back on some of the things I loved most from this last sketch book. It helped me through a lot of confusion, figuring, heart ache, want, joy, giggling fits, and so on. There's text, words, and drawings. Some are my own ideas and others I simply wanted to see if I could create something similar. And you may think, (tilts head to the side), that I'm crazy for some of the things I've drawn and sketch. And perhaps I am. But I don't seem to mind. And honestly, the sketchbook hasn't complained yet.
And yes, I love my Paper Mate Flair pen..possibly too much.. I was going to photograph more of my drawings, but I honestly got a little self conscious about it. Not because of the quality (which does vary) but because of the emotions that I associate with some of them. I usually don't show my work to many people, so this is a step in and of itself.
So without further gilding of the lily, if you can even call it that, here are some of my favourite bits from my now complete sketch book.
I'm so giddy to be starting another one, that I thought I should take a moment and reflect back on some of the things I loved most from this last sketch book. It helped me through a lot of confusion, figuring, heart ache, want, joy, giggling fits, and so on. There's text, words, and drawings. Some are my own ideas and others I simply wanted to see if I could create something similar. And you may think, (tilts head to the side), that I'm crazy for some of the things I've drawn and sketch. And perhaps I am. But I don't seem to mind. And honestly, the sketchbook hasn't complained yet.
And yes, I love my Paper Mate Flair pen..possibly too much.. I was going to photograph more of my drawings, but I honestly got a little self conscious about it. Not because of the quality (which does vary) but because of the emotions that I associate with some of them. I usually don't show my work to many people, so this is a step in and of itself.
So without further gilding of the lily, if you can even call it that, here are some of my favourite bits from my now complete sketch book.
(yes,.. I'm plotting my escape! and oh, look, my sloppy/excited hand writing..)
-random writings and potential quilt designs-
-words I adore / find intriguing-
-phrases and quotes that inspire me-
-they rang in source material (various books, poems, friends and even my old writing), but the inspiration is still great for me-
-this guy reminded me of Wolverine a bit.. couldn't resist-
-because I love love love octopuses ... octopi? -
-Saw this guy online somewhere and just had to redraw him. He's stolen my heart. I'm not sure why or how, but I don't mind.-
..
Ta-da!
..
Thursday, April 24, 2014
The Bank
I came across this while going through and trying to organize a stack of books and old writings. Well, more accurately, trying to incorporate a new stack of books into my existing mountain of books all while alleviating the bowing shelves..
Anyways, it's from 2005. I think it must have been an exercise we did when reading Chaucer? That's the only thing that springs to mind as an explanation for the piece. All that is written on it is the title, English pd 2, and the date; so that's what I'm going with.
I hope you are as amused as I was in reading it as I had completely forgotten I even wrote it.
The Bank.
Ah, the 1900's. Truly a beautiful and unique century. I have always wondered how it would have been to live at the beginning of the 1900's. The excitement of what was to come must have been great. And that last thought moves me to think of our most recent time change into the 21st century. This new century was more of a scare then a joy. Half of the population thought that all the computer would 'crash.' Others thought the aliens were going to come back. There were many rumors, but all were speculation.
The people who survived the transition into the 20th century were as ordinary as you and me. They had towns, houses, and streets. They had families, friends, and foes. They had banks and bank robbers. And, so starts the story of ten people, whose lives will be changed forever, (or at least a very long time.) ...
..It was 4:35 in the afternoon, when three men with guns and gorilla masks barged into the bank on 25th Street.
The first robber was known as Bruce to his friends. His real name was Bryan Rylee Ulysses Clay Edmond. He was the oldest of five children and was the example for the other children of the Edmond's. Bruce, was accordingly, beat when he did something wrong. All the Edmond children were beaten when they got into trouble, but Bruce was beaten more than the others. It wasn't that he got in more trouble, it was that he got caught and blamed more. He was a child without fear.
As he got older his crimes increased in number and severity. Soon his illegal actions became part of his rebellion against his mother. He lived with passion and without fear of anything except his mother.
The second robber was also without fear. He had a good reason not to be. Unlike his fellow robbers, he worked for the government. No, he didn't need the money. Roy Jones stole for the thrill, for the feeling of being in charge.
For Roy too had a terrible childhood. When he was five years old he fell into boiling water. It was very traumatic for the Jones family. Roy was considered a cripple for most of his life. When he was older he was in a car accident and nearly died. He was mistaken for an federal agent and had one of the top doctors work on him. But this was no ordinary doctor. When Roy Jones awoke after the 'surgery' he found that he was indeed half robot. Physically he wasn't cripple, but when it came to feelings he was.
Now the third robber, sadly, was the last and the least. He was in fact little Johnny Edmond the youngest of the Edmond children. Like his older brother Bruce, he too was beaten when in trouble. Although his mother beat him, she had more lenience with him. His brothers thought it was because he was the youngest. The real reason was that he suffered from short term memory loss, and now in the bank with Bruce and Roy, a gun in his hands and gorilla mask on his face, he hadn't a clue of what was going on.
And as in most bank robberies there was a hostage. As Bill Smith stood with the gun pointed at him, he was completely calm. Bill Smith, a descendant of John Smith, had a rather interesting life. He grew up on a farm in Alabama. During summer vacation he would play hide and seek with his brothers. One year, he fell down a hill and landed in a cluster of mushrooms and spiders. Since then he has been afraid of mushrooms. When he was older, he left the farm to become an astronaut. Bill had all the training to go into outer space, but he never went into space, so he never became famous. His father had recently died and Bill Smith was at the bank to cash out his father's accounts.
At one of the desks, in the bank, sits an accountant by the name of Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown went to an academy in Washington. In second grade he went on a field trip to the zoo. The students saw elephants, tigers, zebras and the monkeys last. When they saw the monkeys, one of the zoo keepers was in the monkey cage feeding the monkeys. The children were amazed with the monkeys. Then one of the younger monkeys bit the zoo keeper's hand. When the young Mr. Brown saw this he began to cry. Mr Brown has had trouble showing his emotion since that day. He also has been deathly afraid of monkeys.
When the three robbers came in, he was the first to yell in panic. Also, in reaction to the gorilla faced men, Mr. Brown flew under his desk. For the duration of the robbery, Mr. Brown remained there.
There was another man in that bank dealing with accounts that day. Greg Thomas the local high school teacher was in the bank to inform one of the tellers that when he deposited his pay check, that they didn't put the full amount into his account. He would have just called in to fix the problem but his phone wasn't working. The phone wasn't working because he couldn't pay the phone bill because his check didn't get into his account. Greg Thomas was a big talker and for his phone to be out was just the last straw for him.
Greg Thomas grew up without electricity. His family didn't have a telephone, television, or radio. He didn't care about having a television or radio. All he wanted was a telephone. To talk to people without having to go and see them was his dream..And so, he found himself at the bank.
Also found at the bank that day, was Charlie Mead. When Charlie was about 15 years his father left and it was up to Charlie to be 'the man' of the house and support his mother and sister. Most people who learn about reality at a young age end up with a good head on their shoulders. Charlie Mead is an exception.
Not only did he have two jobs when he dropped out of school; he also had a band. His band-mates were not the best influence on him either.. He was the lead guitarist in the band until today. He didn't tell them that he wasn't going to be in the band anymore. He had a better idea. He went to the bank that day to empty the band's account. From the bank he planned to go to the airport and get the next available flight to Paris. As fate may have it, Charlie never got a chance to empty the account or get to the airport.
The tradions of the Greeks are some we may never understand. D'mitri Remo, a Greek fisherman, by trade, always celebrated the New Year with his family. When he was about twenty, his family moved to the United States and the next year death took his parents. Sadly D'mitri's mother didn't cook the lamb's stomach properly and she and her husband died of food poisoning.
It is very traumatic to loose a parent, but to loose both parents and in a family tradition, no less, was too much for D'mitri. After that day, he has been a strict vegetarian.. He was at the bank to take a loan out for a new house.
Sitting on the floor next to D'mitri was Dean Tippery. He was at the bank to deposit his check from work. He very rarely got work, well, work he wanted anyway. He was a struggling baseball player. Ever since he could run he ran extremely fast. Both he and his parents knew his calling was for running, but his passion was for baseball. He didn't like to run. And he didn't want to disappoint his parents; that was his main concern.
He was very disciplined. Half of every pay check he got, he put into his savings account. He didn't have a television, or a car, and he only used his telephone for very important calls. There was no reason for his parents to be disappointed, but he found many reason regardless.
Shrunk in the nearest corner by the door was Shannon Idle. During the robbery she had resorted back to her old habits; be quiet, calm, and meek.
In grade school and up to high school Shannon was a very calm girl who never stood up for herself. People stole from her, talked bad about her, and she did nothing. Finally, one day, she stood up for herself. She told the people who were mean and stole from her what she should have said in the first place.
One guy had not heard of Shannon's new found self respect. He did what he always did when she walked by; he was inappropriate with her. But this time was different. She retaliated. He fought back.
Some say it was murder, other say it was self defense. Either way, Shannon's tormentor died from his wounds.
She was put in jail for a long time. Her older brother snuck her out of jail and she has been free ever since.
Now she is a hair dresser, who goes by Sherri, the name of her little sister who died when she was three days old.
These ten people lived through the transition into the 20th century. Each has hopes and fears, stories and dreams to tell.
And 'what happened to them all' you ask? Well, that's a question for the history books.
Anyways, it's from 2005. I think it must have been an exercise we did when reading Chaucer? That's the only thing that springs to mind as an explanation for the piece. All that is written on it is the title, English pd 2, and the date; so that's what I'm going with.
I hope you are as amused as I was in reading it as I had completely forgotten I even wrote it.
The Bank.
Ah, the 1900's. Truly a beautiful and unique century. I have always wondered how it would have been to live at the beginning of the 1900's. The excitement of what was to come must have been great. And that last thought moves me to think of our most recent time change into the 21st century. This new century was more of a scare then a joy. Half of the population thought that all the computer would 'crash.' Others thought the aliens were going to come back. There were many rumors, but all were speculation.
The people who survived the transition into the 20th century were as ordinary as you and me. They had towns, houses, and streets. They had families, friends, and foes. They had banks and bank robbers. And, so starts the story of ten people, whose lives will be changed forever, (or at least a very long time.) ...
..It was 4:35 in the afternoon, when three men with guns and gorilla masks barged into the bank on 25th Street.
The first robber was known as Bruce to his friends. His real name was Bryan Rylee Ulysses Clay Edmond. He was the oldest of five children and was the example for the other children of the Edmond's. Bruce, was accordingly, beat when he did something wrong. All the Edmond children were beaten when they got into trouble, but Bruce was beaten more than the others. It wasn't that he got in more trouble, it was that he got caught and blamed more. He was a child without fear.
As he got older his crimes increased in number and severity. Soon his illegal actions became part of his rebellion against his mother. He lived with passion and without fear of anything except his mother.
The second robber was also without fear. He had a good reason not to be. Unlike his fellow robbers, he worked for the government. No, he didn't need the money. Roy Jones stole for the thrill, for the feeling of being in charge.
For Roy too had a terrible childhood. When he was five years old he fell into boiling water. It was very traumatic for the Jones family. Roy was considered a cripple for most of his life. When he was older he was in a car accident and nearly died. He was mistaken for an federal agent and had one of the top doctors work on him. But this was no ordinary doctor. When Roy Jones awoke after the 'surgery' he found that he was indeed half robot. Physically he wasn't cripple, but when it came to feelings he was.
Now the third robber, sadly, was the last and the least. He was in fact little Johnny Edmond the youngest of the Edmond children. Like his older brother Bruce, he too was beaten when in trouble. Although his mother beat him, she had more lenience with him. His brothers thought it was because he was the youngest. The real reason was that he suffered from short term memory loss, and now in the bank with Bruce and Roy, a gun in his hands and gorilla mask on his face, he hadn't a clue of what was going on.
And as in most bank robberies there was a hostage. As Bill Smith stood with the gun pointed at him, he was completely calm. Bill Smith, a descendant of John Smith, had a rather interesting life. He grew up on a farm in Alabama. During summer vacation he would play hide and seek with his brothers. One year, he fell down a hill and landed in a cluster of mushrooms and spiders. Since then he has been afraid of mushrooms. When he was older, he left the farm to become an astronaut. Bill had all the training to go into outer space, but he never went into space, so he never became famous. His father had recently died and Bill Smith was at the bank to cash out his father's accounts.
At one of the desks, in the bank, sits an accountant by the name of Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown went to an academy in Washington. In second grade he went on a field trip to the zoo. The students saw elephants, tigers, zebras and the monkeys last. When they saw the monkeys, one of the zoo keepers was in the monkey cage feeding the monkeys. The children were amazed with the monkeys. Then one of the younger monkeys bit the zoo keeper's hand. When the young Mr. Brown saw this he began to cry. Mr Brown has had trouble showing his emotion since that day. He also has been deathly afraid of monkeys.
When the three robbers came in, he was the first to yell in panic. Also, in reaction to the gorilla faced men, Mr. Brown flew under his desk. For the duration of the robbery, Mr. Brown remained there.
There was another man in that bank dealing with accounts that day. Greg Thomas the local high school teacher was in the bank to inform one of the tellers that when he deposited his pay check, that they didn't put the full amount into his account. He would have just called in to fix the problem but his phone wasn't working. The phone wasn't working because he couldn't pay the phone bill because his check didn't get into his account. Greg Thomas was a big talker and for his phone to be out was just the last straw for him.
Greg Thomas grew up without electricity. His family didn't have a telephone, television, or radio. He didn't care about having a television or radio. All he wanted was a telephone. To talk to people without having to go and see them was his dream..And so, he found himself at the bank.
Also found at the bank that day, was Charlie Mead. When Charlie was about 15 years his father left and it was up to Charlie to be 'the man' of the house and support his mother and sister. Most people who learn about reality at a young age end up with a good head on their shoulders. Charlie Mead is an exception.
Not only did he have two jobs when he dropped out of school; he also had a band. His band-mates were not the best influence on him either.. He was the lead guitarist in the band until today. He didn't tell them that he wasn't going to be in the band anymore. He had a better idea. He went to the bank that day to empty the band's account. From the bank he planned to go to the airport and get the next available flight to Paris. As fate may have it, Charlie never got a chance to empty the account or get to the airport.
The tradions of the Greeks are some we may never understand. D'mitri Remo, a Greek fisherman, by trade, always celebrated the New Year with his family. When he was about twenty, his family moved to the United States and the next year death took his parents. Sadly D'mitri's mother didn't cook the lamb's stomach properly and she and her husband died of food poisoning.
It is very traumatic to loose a parent, but to loose both parents and in a family tradition, no less, was too much for D'mitri. After that day, he has been a strict vegetarian.. He was at the bank to take a loan out for a new house.
Sitting on the floor next to D'mitri was Dean Tippery. He was at the bank to deposit his check from work. He very rarely got work, well, work he wanted anyway. He was a struggling baseball player. Ever since he could run he ran extremely fast. Both he and his parents knew his calling was for running, but his passion was for baseball. He didn't like to run. And he didn't want to disappoint his parents; that was his main concern.
He was very disciplined. Half of every pay check he got, he put into his savings account. He didn't have a television, or a car, and he only used his telephone for very important calls. There was no reason for his parents to be disappointed, but he found many reason regardless.
Shrunk in the nearest corner by the door was Shannon Idle. During the robbery she had resorted back to her old habits; be quiet, calm, and meek.
In grade school and up to high school Shannon was a very calm girl who never stood up for herself. People stole from her, talked bad about her, and she did nothing. Finally, one day, she stood up for herself. She told the people who were mean and stole from her what she should have said in the first place.
One guy had not heard of Shannon's new found self respect. He did what he always did when she walked by; he was inappropriate with her. But this time was different. She retaliated. He fought back.
Some say it was murder, other say it was self defense. Either way, Shannon's tormentor died from his wounds.
She was put in jail for a long time. Her older brother snuck her out of jail and she has been free ever since.
Now she is a hair dresser, who goes by Sherri, the name of her little sister who died when she was three days old.
These ten people lived through the transition into the 20th century. Each has hopes and fears, stories and dreams to tell.
And 'what happened to them all' you ask? Well, that's a question for the history books.
Monday, April 21, 2014
A random thing that makes me ridiculously happy; socks
That's right. Socks. Fuzzy socks to be more precise. They make me happy, comfy and amused.
P.S. -
I would apologize for the bruises and scars on my legs..but as they are proof that I'm living and continuing on in life, I shan't.
P.S. -
I would apologize for the bruises and scars on my legs..but as they are proof that I'm living and continuing on in life, I shan't.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Another one of those kinds of dreams
I had another one of those dreams last night. No, luckily, not one of the dreams where I'm smoking non stop. One of those dreams that I usually have after a long trip, a busy seminar, or a long night out. The one where there's no plot, just noise, words, voices, and sentences from the busy period before sleep takes over. Only, I hadn't just come back from a trip, seminar, night out or anything. I had, instead, stayed up into the early morning hours reading; not realizing that the time had passed so swiftly. My dreams were those of lines, scenes, and characters' emotions all jumbled together before my eyes. A labyrinth of pain, loss, love, death, jealousy, fever and fate. Never before, that I can recall at least, had I experienced this 'style' of dream and its theme be from what I've read. I'm in no ways complaining. I love those dreams, the hurried mash up of little bits that my brain seemed to hold onto for one reason or another. All of them playing across my mind like watching someone paint a large canvas. Always unique, always beautiful, always a little haunting.
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Absentee..
To my slight shame, I realize I have abandoned you for two weeks... I do apologize, to a point. I think it all began with house sitting. A friend and former teacher had asked me to house sit for her while she went away on a five day vacation. I readily agreed. I love her house. It's close to town, but out far enough in the country where you're surrounded by trees. Plus, a kitchen, tv and hot tub to myself; she was on vacation- nope, I was. During that time, I did a lot of writing. More then I've done in a long time. And I think it's coming along well - I hope at least.
From there, time ran away from me. More then it has in a long time. I went shopping with my mom one day, visited a friend and helped her pull weeds another. Bought eight more books because evidently, I have a problem. And, I've been reading and drawing like a mad person. But if I am mad in my work, there is little I can do about it.
Yesterday alone, I wasn't feeling the greatest and did several drawings including far too many dragons, a few people and my first attempt at a mermaid.. I also realized that I may indeed be mad, for I have several books that I'm reading at the same time. I usually never do this, in fact, I'm usually very against doing this. At least in past, as I'm currently doing it now. Reading multiple books at a time, to me, was like cheating on the books themselves. Not being able to give any one book all your attention. I also couldn't figure out how people who read two or more books at a time kept the stories straight. And then, I think, maybe the books aren't that great and that's why they're reading multiple books. But maybe that's not the case. Right now, I'm reading:
-Cupid and Psyche translated by E. J. Kenney
-Soul of a Lion by Barbara Bennett
-Mission to Paris by Alan Furst, and
-American Poetry, 1922 A Miscellany by various
(and this is on top of the short stories and various odd fan fics I read online, almost daily now..)
Maybe my mind wanders too much. Maybe it depends on my mood. Maybe, I really just cannot help myself. If you've seen my previous book lists, you know, I have plenty of options in which to loose myself. And since it is far too easy to add to my collection of available literature, I plunge deeper into abyss.
And that, dear reader, is why I have been absent.
P.S. Also, there was two, three days of glorious sun.
P.S.S. I will leave you with random photographs taken in my absence:
From there, time ran away from me. More then it has in a long time. I went shopping with my mom one day, visited a friend and helped her pull weeds another. Bought eight more books because evidently, I have a problem. And, I've been reading and drawing like a mad person. But if I am mad in my work, there is little I can do about it.
Yesterday alone, I wasn't feeling the greatest and did several drawings including far too many dragons, a few people and my first attempt at a mermaid.. I also realized that I may indeed be mad, for I have several books that I'm reading at the same time. I usually never do this, in fact, I'm usually very against doing this. At least in past, as I'm currently doing it now. Reading multiple books at a time, to me, was like cheating on the books themselves. Not being able to give any one book all your attention. I also couldn't figure out how people who read two or more books at a time kept the stories straight. And then, I think, maybe the books aren't that great and that's why they're reading multiple books. But maybe that's not the case. Right now, I'm reading:
-Cupid and Psyche translated by E. J. Kenney
-Soul of a Lion by Barbara Bennett
-Mission to Paris by Alan Furst, and
-American Poetry, 1922 A Miscellany by various
(and this is on top of the short stories and various odd fan fics I read online, almost daily now..)
Maybe my mind wanders too much. Maybe it depends on my mood. Maybe, I really just cannot help myself. If you've seen my previous book lists, you know, I have plenty of options in which to loose myself. And since it is far too easy to add to my collection of available literature, I plunge deeper into abyss.
And that, dear reader, is why I have been absent.
P.S. Also, there was two, three days of glorious sun.
P.S.S. I will leave you with random photographs taken in my absence:
Friday, April 4, 2014
A Writing Prompt.. write about the anger that caused you so much trouble..
I've been noticing these more and more online lately. Decided to take a crack at one of them. Here you go:I've been irrationally grumpy today.
The kind of irritation that grows and grows and grows.
With every spoken word, they draw closer to you
With every step, the anger grows
More and more as they get closer and closer.
What they say is not it
Simply their person getting closer is enough
Is this possibly irrational?
Perchance.
Though it is my current state.
Dare I clench my teeth?
Oh, they'd grind off to nubs.
Clench my fists, my figures will probably fall off.
My stomach is in knots.
My mind a blur, a haze, an explosion of fury.
I can't keep my anger for much longer
Though it seems to over stay its welcome far too often.
It seems to come in waves
At inopportune times
Mid-morning, mid-afternoon, deep in the evening
Makes no difference to my anger
My mind is a revolving door for it to run through as it wishes.
My body, its play thing
Doing with me as it will
A force of destruction of which I only have the control of the clean up.
For that's what I'm left with when it finally departs.
Shreds of anger dispensed along the path I blazed
Combined with bits of life, edged in charcoal by the heat of my anger.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
It's the little things
After spending an unprecedented amount of time standing on the back of the couch trimming neglected house plants, caused me to think of things I'd rather not, I made myself a cup of tea and decided to try and hash somethings out. The mindless repetitive motion of trimming away dead branches and leaves allowed my mind to wander. To walk among thoughts of work, past relationships, future meetings, and on and on.. I've noticed that my thoughts tend to drift more and more lately. Not saying that all I do is think, though, it has started to take large chunks of my day. Well, it accompanied by reading, writing and periodically editing. I'd like to imagine the time I've spent stuck in my head does help in whatever is to come next. Because that's the thing isn't it? The next thing could happen at any time, any moment, and you could not even realized it happened until days possibly weeks after. Like most good or at least highly interesting things in my life, it all comes down to one small moment. A moment that changes everything. Usually it's small and seemingly insignificant, but when looked back upon, you realize that that was the moment that everything turned and changed. Those small moments are the ones I love the most. Their simplicity reminding us the importance of details and small gestures.
For me, there have been several of these. Lending a pen. Having an empty period in my schedule. Turning down my music to listen to my neighbors headphones blare "Sweet Child O'Mine". Showing a friend how to shift their weight on the metro in Paris to counter the force of its stop and go. Sitting down in biology. Sharing a quote. Telling of a dream. Taking another step down the stairs. Giving insight into a design program. Curling my hair on a Tuesday. I know there are countless others but these immediately jump to mind.
Looking down at the empty cup in my hand that I had momentarily tried to conjure more tea out of, I wonder if one of those sweetly simple moments have already happened and I hadn't noticed it. You never notice them till later. And I know I can't be the only one hoping in the back of their minds that maybe that little moment will be happening soon or possibly that it's passed and we haven't noticed that moment of bliss yet. I'm trying to keep my mind away from it, honestly. Possibly in an act of ignoring its probability it will in fact show its face? Regardless, do keep your head up dear, if you are one like I in hoping for that little moment of pleasant change. They really are worth the wait.
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