It still smells like spring and the sun lingers in the evening, creating an atmosphere in which I want to both be waking up as early as I can and falling asleep as late as possible. I don’t want to miss any part of the day. My window is open even when it gets too warm because the breeze itself is nostalgia.
It’s a wonderfully funny time of year, because part of it feels like a fresh start, a new year. Spring cleaning, hello. But on the other hand we’re not winding down the year yet; we’ve still got months left before the Christmas music can come out. (Who’s already keen for December first?)
We’re more than halfway through the year and I still can’t believe we’re in 2018. When did we get closer to 2030 than 2000? Why are people born in 2000 becoming adults? I have no answers, only confusion as to how this year has gone so fast, and as to how we got to this year in the first place.
Today I made choc-chip biscuits, and my brother agreed with me when I said it’s the first time I’ve baked something that hasn’t turned out a little strange. This is no offence to me, merely truth. When I make dessert there’s usually nothing wrong with it, but there’s always something that’s not quite right. I’ve made a few chocolate puddings this year and each time the texture has been completely different. I’m not even kidding: one time, it was more like a fudge brownie. A few days ago I baked one and the mixture was stretchy, like bread dough.
I can’t fathom what happens. Each time they’ve tasted fine, but they’ve all just been not quite right.
I digress.
From what, I’m not sure, as this post doesn’t have much of a point. Or, the point is that it’s spring so I feel like writing but with no direction in mind we’re wandering a bit. Have I lost you completely?
Still, it feels nice to write without much thought. It feels like last year, when I wrote a post every day and had to just go for it. Incomplete thoughts, random thoughts, strange thoughts; writing for the sake of writing.
I’m taking a half hour break from writing my novel (the one I’m meant to be saving for November) because my space bar has been a bit dodge and doesn’t do it’s job half the time. I realise switching over to writing a blog post isn’t solving this problem because I’m still using my space bar and it’s still driving me crazy.
With nothing else more to say I’ll leave you with this: I submitted one of my poems to a zine in Brisbane, and they’re publishing it in their October edition. They’ll be sending me a free copy, which is something to look forward to.
Sarah xx
the softest words 