Such a phrase of meaningless can somehow soak up some from the backfields of my mind and end up being beautiful. What happens in this transition? It can't possibly be just chemicals.

I wish you all could see what my room looks like right now. I have 10 candles placed around the room. They're ocean-scented. Burning in the back of my room is an incense stick called "Ocean Dreams", which is the traditional silly name but accurate. Deep blue. Playing is Sigur Ros, specifically "Sven-g-englar", which is the second track off of their stellar CD "Agaetus Bryrjun". The bass rolls around my feet like something huge just underneath my feet. It's soothing.

Outside, the rain is pouring like it never has in months. It was completely drenching as I ran, laughing, from my car to my home. The process took 10 seconds and I was drenched. Rain brings with it some sliver of childhood for me. Every drop just lifts me a little bit, just cleans me slightly.

The windows are cracked open so I can hear the rain, which has tapered off to a more comforting pattern. Parts of my room are sometimes lit up by lightning. Less thunder now - but just as much rain.

Tonight I walked through campus because I was expecting the rec center to be open. I got there and it was completely closed. It started raining shortly after on my walk back, but the air was still warm and young from summer's arrival and the thunder just roamed restlessly above the clouds. I looked at the buildings that I've spent many hours in, and I can say I felt a trace of nostalgia spiral through me. I don't miss it. Not yet.

Emotion is circular. It has to be. Highs and lows but constant returns makes a shape like an oval. Kisses leave oval marks, iris circular, patterns from fingertips everything from meaningless to meaningful, not always geometric or symmetrical, and what makes a bare back the ideal canvas, anyway? How can each time be new? I wish you could curl around me like a sea. I've got the ocean theme here - it misses you and needs you like the sea and the color blue. Candles can eat oxygen and burn into the night but it will always be just me with this heat. I know it won't always be.

between shadows and smiling,

Jared