Hi.

Welcome to my brain.

living poetically

Maybe I should start every post by apologizing for the title of the post. I don't think I will ever be content with my blog titles. Hey man, you do what you can. 

I'm not really sure if anything is worth sharing today, except that I would really like to suck less at blogging. One of my friends said I should vlog. Which i think would be clumsy and a little bit all over the place. Maybe I'll try it maybe I won't. Stay tuned for the ever suspenseful life of Abigail. 

I didn't have to work today, So I decided to take my time with everything. I went to church, and prayed a little longer than usual after mass. I saw a friend as I was leaving, but he didn't notice me. That statement seems insignificant; it is not.

After church, I went to my favorite coffee shop and finished drawing a picture of my little brother that I started yesterday at a different coffee shop. The barista (who's name is Jarvis, he is cool) gave me a mug with birthday wishes on it. It's like the world knows that it's my birthday soon. I also realized that I'm somebody who has a "birthday month"--I expect to be treated every day of July as if it July 26th. Jarvis' birthday was two weeks ago, so it's his birthday, too. I feel much closer to people who have birthdays in July. I want to be friends with every July born individual. Maybe they like being barefoot as much as I do. Maybe I'm the only person that likes being barefoot as much as I do. Who knows. (I know)
I finished the drawing and took a picture and sent it to Matthew. He told me that I made his day, which, consequently, made my day. What can I say, I'm easy to please. 

I went home and made porridge. Johnny told me not to call it "porridge" because I'm not Oliver Twist, though I informed him that it is, in fact, called "porridge." I will continue to call it that and I will even insist on calling it that now that I know it reminds people of Oliver Twist (or something like that) because I really like Oliver Twist. Johnny: jokes on you. 

I went to Hannah's and took my time with her as well. I didn't have any place to be except for with her. We went to another coffee place, where they sold Roasterie coffee. Which is water. High quality water exported out of Kansas City, but even their dark roast is wimpy. However, it made me nostalgic for my friend Erin, who works at the Roasterie in Kansas City. If a person could be a song, Erin would be one of the best songs ever written.

Last night, my brother and I were watching a movie and my knee started aching, so naturally, I assumed weather was coming. I asked Ian if it was supposed to rain or storm in the next 48 hours. He told me that it wasn't. I knew that the forecast was wrong because I am actually 80 years old and my bones do not lie to me. 
Low and behold, a nice thunderstorm rolled through Lincoln around 3:00 p.m. Well, well, well, arthritis, you son-of-a-gun, you've done it again! I'm gaining more confidence in my possible future in meteorology every day. You could go to school and get your masters and try to predict the future, or you could have a chronic condition and just know. One of the many perks of my debilitating disease. 

I left Hannah's around 4:30, when the rain really started to come down. I was driving with my windows down and my music was very loud. I thought about putting down my sun roof, but I had my sketch book and my phone and my computer out. I reasoned with myself. At first, I intended to just drive from Hannah's back to my apartment. But in the spirit of being me, I pulled off the road in the middle of the city and stood on the side of the street. My music was still playing from my car because my radio is broken and plays even though my key isn't in my ignition. "Never Come Back Again" by Austin Plaine was shouting from my windows and I stood and listened to it. I wasn't sure if what I was doing was lawful, so after a couple minutes, I got back in my car and headed out of the city. I drove in the rain with my windows down for awhile until I got to the park, where I planned on frolicking around. It wasn't raining in the park though, so being there was mute. By the time I got back into town, the rain had almost completely stopped. But it was good while it lasted. It made me want to write. 

I've been getting more and more into writing poetry. I'm not sure if what I do is actually poetry though; it's more like run on sentences and babbling what I see. I decided last week or two weeks ago (time escapes me these days I'll tell you what) that I would try to document my days in these "poems," so that maybe when I look back on this journal, I can remember how happy I was when I was writing. Or sad or angry. Or hurt or lonely or hungry or excited or tired. Disclaimer: I'm not a poet. 

I haven't written my poem about today, but I think that it will include the sky's reflection in the street and the quietness of the city when everyone's windows are rolled up. And the headlights that passed me while I was standing on the side of the road and catching glimpses of people's faces staring at me. It will include my arm, which hung out my window catching raindrops as I drove, and my legs, which the raindrops splashed onto through the open windows. It will also include the fact that I've been in three different coffee shops today, and maybe the homeless man that asked me if I could I give him money, of which I had none. All I could offer him was a bottle of water and a cup of coffee. It will probably include my fear of people and being judged and my inevitable awkward encounters with people that I have no reason to be afraid of. But I won't know for sure until I write it. 

In the mean time, here's that rad song

Barefoot

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