i am writing a novel. well, i am researching a novel. i have always been so open with writing poetry but when it comes to prose, i start to close myself off a bit; not truly opening myself up to the possibilities of whatever i write. it is a daunting task. i find that writing reconciles you with your self. it exposes all the little bits you never want to see the light of day or subtley acknowledge.

today is not a day for writing. this week hasn't been a day for writing (fictional prose). it has been a week of forgiveness and bravery. it has been a week of tears and recognition of our humanity. it has also been the week of spending hard earned cash dollars. my closet will be bursting by the end of the summer. i think i need to do another cleaning of it and pack away more. i need twelve closets and seventy-five shoe racks. i wear heels to work now and i love it. will i do it in my every day life? not in this rain.