i want a bike with a basket. still.

i woke up thinking about the tiny bones in the index finger and the itty bitty move of pulling a trigger. how such a tiny move of a finger, barely any physical effort, can fire a gun and kill someone.


i read until 3am. nineteen minutes by jodi picoult. it is a good summer read because it sucks you in and doesn't demand too much. but it is about a high school shooting....bullying....the social class system that exists in high school. i want everyone to read it so we can discuss. so....go now....read.




notes from dream last night:

i was riding a bicycle down the street.
i was in a dress
the temperature outside was the same as my body
and there was a soft breeze that felt warm and sweet, like someones breath.
my hair was longer and felt nice blowing against my face.
i made a turn and signaled to traffic appropriately, and pointed to the left.

(in real life, i have not been on a bicycle for years and would not feel at all comfortable riding in traffic and signaling turns...also...i am one of the few adults that never learned to ride with no hands...and it one of those "things" i am not entirely over...like walking on my hands...i will learn how to do these things before i die)