Break from thought

I have been thinking far too much about choices. Yes, I feel that in the next few months I will be moving at warp speed, doing about eight different things at once, but I can't obsess and obsess all of the time. Back in college, whenever I was writing a literature paper, I would skim over the book, make a quote outline, make a thematic outline, read literary criticism, make an outline of those ideas, and then try to come up with a comprehensive thesis and the process by which I would prove it. At some point, rather than bringing clarity, my over-examination would render me completely clueless. I would begin doubting the points that I had previously thought were innovative or brilliant. Often, in the process of untangling and outline-writing and thinking, I would end up forgetting what the book was about! This once culminated in a The Great Gatsby-related meltdown. So I'll put my thoughts to rest, for right now.
I have been looking at lots of other blogs for inspiration. Going back to the writing a literature paper metaphor, I used to peruse many different sources of literary criticism before I even came up with a paper topic. Other people's ideas help me to develop my own. I never plagiarize-- but I definitely use those ideas as a launching off point, usually as a way to start my paper (I liked to begin with a quote) and then seque into a related or contradictory stream of thought. So in my inspirational blog tour, I uncovered m. writes, which I think is streamlined, quirky, and beautiful (three favorite adjectives). I like the "stream of consciousness" style of posting, which I have used a bit on my blog. A lot of the posts involve recent thoughts, topics of interest, or beautiful pictures. It's beauty in every form. So Marta, I hope you don't mind me borrowing from your "dear diary" post and trying to make it my own. Here goes:
I love the smell of: ginger. I used to have a "ginger ale" shower gel, as embarrassing as that is. I thought it smelled fresh and delicious-- like a jolt of "wake up" energy. WAKE UP!!! IT'S GINGER!!
I love the sound of: little kid giggles, especially when they're playing with their daddies.
I love the taste of: cranberry gel in a can. For some reason, unless I know that the cranberries were originally in a can-shaped cylandrical mold, they are meaningless to me. And I love the taste of tears, which may be a bad omen.
I love the sight of: the hands of someone I love. I like to trace the lines of hands and compare his larger, tougher hands to my tiny, delicate, bitten ones.
I love the feel of: being bundled, happy, safe and secure where I am in the moment. It usually involves soulmates, blankets, tea, cold feet turning warm, or all of the above. Unfortunately that type of satisfaction happens less often than it should...but I'm working toward being able to bundle myself in my own layers of comfort and security.

My hands are small I know

But they're not yours, they are my own

But they're not yours, they are my own

And I am never broken.