Day 251.

Take notice of the short, i.e. nonexistent, number of days in-between my two posts. I won't grovel for any congratulating on your part, as that is unnecessary, but you should all know that I am most certainly applauding myself.

I write tonight with the pure and sole intent to paint an image in your mind. Read the words slowly. Ponder each sentence. Allow yourself to be encompassed in the image. And, to fully experience this verbally-painted portrait I strongly encourage you begin by playing the following playlist:

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A late rainy evening in September. On a random street of this subtle metropolis sits a modest blue house. A blue house built in 1909. At the back of the house, we find a room added in a later decade. Garish yellow wallpaper covers each wall. Underneath the wallpaper on the west most wall, the bumps and lines of brick are distinguishable. Two long yet slender windows expose the darkness of the young night. Bookshelves, desks and art supplies reside in this romantic studio. A sewing machine hides in the corner, yearning to be used. The maroon paint on the dusty wood floor whispers of the beatings it has taken over the years. A girl sits with her back against the east wall. The muffled sounds of conversation drift from various rooms throughout the house. Seated on the ground, the girl can feel as gravity melds her tailbone to the hard floor. And even then, everything seems right with the world. She allows the rich sounds of jazz to envelope her. With eyes shut tight, she can feel the notes on her finger tips, taste the melody on her tongue. And it sounds so right.

Day 250.

Oh my. My inability to blog consistently is pitiful really. But enough of that.
What is new homeslices?! The newness on my end is overwhelming really. No, I joke. I am back to the grind of school. I do have a fabulous new job though. H&M. If you need a great hourly job, Hennes & Mauritz is the place.


Life is tough friends. Things don't go as planned. It is rare that I plan out my life further than what I plan to eat at the next meal, but for some ridiculous reason I drew up a plan in my head of what the next year was going to look like for myself. It was going to be great. School, work, social life. Everything was going to go swimmingly. But I come today to inform you of my cliche yet incredibly sincere revelation.

Life wasn't made for plans. Life was made for living. 

If you live everyday with the idea that everything in life must go to plan, you will live a very unhappy life. Yes, you can strive to achieve things. You can make goals. But you cannot expect every minute detail to execute itself in the order, timing, manner, etc. in which you had decided in that mind of yours. A rough outline is healthy -- it allows for direction. But it would be silly to expect life to play out as if it were following a script, a script written by you.

I hope that I successfully conveyed my thoughts on the matter. I intended this idea to come across as a positive one, one that allows you to dream more freely, an idea that inspires you to live to your fullest. Because life is full of surprises, and to embrace the unexpected is to live.