Dull gray rain. Frustration. I feel empty inside, like there was a huge gray hole. I'm in the verge of losing most of my life, due to bad grades. Nothing could make me happy right now, exept my dad walking through that door and telling me I can still continue all of my activities, even though I have two of the worst possible grades. I'm sorry, I can't write anymore, I'm getting too emotional.

Spring! Oh spring with all thee flowers opening their sweet-smellig blossoms to the sun to kiss them! Oh spring rain that washes up the remains of the winter, cold and pale! Oh thte grass, smelling homely after lawn-mowing! Oh apple trees in white blossom-foam! Right now I'm just so overjoyed because of spring, I don't know what to do. Oh the freedom of the coming summer, the warm days and sweet summer nights! Oh starry skies and bright sunsets!

Ok, this will be one of the rare posts without all the fuss that as nothing to do with my life. Right now I'm death tired, I have just done a lot of sewing and I celebrated my birthday with a lazy-party yesterday. I have put down a huge number of potatoes, and I have tidied up all of the party-mess. I have barbecued and slept about 6 hours per night for almost a week. And I'm really, really happy right now. Everything didn't turn out as bad as it could have, and my guests seemed content about it too. 5 of the 12 tabards I have to sew for this weekend, starting Friday, are hemmed. What could be better? I just have to quote a friend of mine: Cuilë na linda. (That was quenya, in case anybody wonders.)

Ok. I'm drowning in organizing my birthday. Well, I guess it's a part of having one in a few days but still.. I hate organizing!

Water is the most beautiful element ever. Think about it. It covers about 3/4 of the Earth's surface, and without it, there is no life, or at least not in a form we'd recognize. Have you seen ice flowers on a cold winter day on a window? You could just keep on looking at them. Or a snowflake: so fragile, so tender, so light. In the same time - snowstorms can be disastrous if you're not prepared. Or a dewdrop - clear, tiny piece on fresh grass, but water in oceans - a tidalwave. And again I come to the conclusion humans are not the top of the world. We can so easily be hurt by nature.

Getting even busier, and feeling even lousier. Aches and pains will be today's topic.

Have you ever noticed how the pain is diffrent in diffrent times, diffrent occasions? If you concerntrate on the pain, it will almost go away, sometimes. I think it's something about how the brain functions. Pain being the alarm, but when lasting, brain gets used to it. It has felt very weird, sitting on the dentist's chair, having your tooth drilled, thinking exactly where the pain lies, and slowly starting not to feel it...

Ok, almost no time today. Seems like my life is like a huge antfarm, always full of busy-ness.

Have you seen a cat laying in the sun? The way it sometimes gathers itself up into a little furry ball, the next moment stretches out as long as it can... I have always wondered the flexibility and smooth moves of a cat. Sometimes it just seems to flow. Wouldn't it be wonderful, if we could all be as flexible as that? The felines are rightfully the kings of animals, in their lion form. Too bad we, humans, declare ourselves the kings of nature, we would be easy prey to a hunting lioness.

Today's post will be short, since I don't have a lot of time. And it's about hopes, dreams and awaits - at least I hope it will be.

It has been a beautiful summer weather for almost a month in a row, but that seemed unfair to Marina. She had been overwhelmingly sad - her boyfriend had been reported missing from the frontline. it was war time, and she knew when he left, that he probably wouldn't ever come home again, but hope dies last. She was waiting to see any changes in the weather. After all, it was unfair everybody else was happy, and so seemed the sky - dull, low grey clouds would have been a lot more fitting. She was not the only one waiting for rain, it had been dry for too long. So she stood there, on the terrace of her family's home, on the second floor, and looked at the west, from where the clouds were awaited. A light, warm wind from that direction rose. it made her dress flow and her hair too. And there, as she waited and looked for a cloud with her eyes, a tiny black spot emerged from the horizon. At first, it was almost too small to see, then in a while she thought it was a bug of some sort, that flew near to her eye. She tried to wipe it away, but it stayed. After a long wait, it started to take human form, a riding human in a bright red uniform. She couldn't believe her eyes, strained them, to see better. She hoped it was her husband. When the man - she had been right - got to hearing range, she cried a welcome for him. He saw her, and waved. Waving back, the woman leaned too far over the edge of the balkony - and fell.

When the man got to her, she could only say her last words - "I was hoping to see you once again..." - before she died.

I planned on writing yesterday, too, but it seems I forgot one detail: I had no access whatsoever to any computers yesterday. I also didn't for most of today. Weekend's theme seems to be adventures.

A guy walked on the main street of some small town. It was the kind of town, where everybody knows everybody and most of them are friends. Amongst themselves, they are friendly, but not to outsiders. Anyway, he had never seen anyone from outside in his life, neither went on vacation with his family to other towns. maybe he didn't have the chance, maybe they just didn't want to... Who knows? But this evening seemed to be special. He had never liked to be alone much, but this incredibly quiet, sweet spring evening had been inviting. He had walked alone on the streets for almost an hour now, lost in his thoughts. He thought about what was going to happen tomorrow: he was supposed to leave the town, go to university. He wouldn't see his family - mother, father and little sister - for an entire year, if not longer. His mind went stray and he didn't realize, when he was out of town already. His feet carried him to a beautifully serene place: over a tiny bridge, to an even tinier island. The place was only big enough for a few bushy trees and a small green meadow between them. The island was situated in the river that flowed through the town. When the bridge suddenly ended - it had started very subtle, with some grass on the mainland end - he looked up and saw all of this beautiful nature. The island was somewhat diamond-shaped. He went to the very end of one tip and looked at the river: it was a breathtaking view. He stood there, looking at it in the long rays of evening sun, soon turning rosy. It was a clear, cloudless sunset and he couldn't keep his eyes away from it. It was pure luck he had one of the trees hanging over his head and blocking some of the sun, he could have been blinded, just standing there, staring at the sun. With the last rays, he turned around and left. He had no idea where he was, but it didn't matter. He knew he would probably never find this place again, but that didn't matter, either. The only thing that mattered was the place itself - so mystical, so beautiful, so serene, so quiet. Being there at the sunset had been an adventure of its own for him, made even more unrealistic by loneliness. Even birds didn't sing anymore, when he left.

He never knew if he found it accidentally or did his feet carry him there intentionally, or whether or not he ever found his way home, but the fact remains: such places still exist in our world, where none can go and remain unchanged.

This will be the first sentence of my blog. Ever. I haven't read much of anybody else's blogs, so I don't have a precise knowledge about what they write. But I will write a short scene every day.

On one day, it might be a description of something, on another, a paragraph-formed short story. it might be about my life, but it doesn't have to. I think it will be mostly about how I feel, how was the day, what happened - today seems like a flower, a daffodil.

Have you ever looked at a daffodil so closely you can see even the tiniest details? I would be wrong if I said it looked beautiful, but it doesn't look disgusting either, just... different. Yes, different. Like everybody is, in their own way different from everybody else. And it's not only the people - the flowers, daffodils, are, too. Every one of them unique, each one-of-a-kind. If looked at from this angle, picking a flower - any flower - is like a murder. Ok, maybe you hold it in your hand, enjoy it's fragance, give it as a gift to someone dear and close to your heart, but it will still die, die too early, maybe without having even had a chance to last, to leave something behind.

I'm not saying we shouldn't pick flowers - be my guest, do that - but think before you destroy it's life for ever, you can't restore it.

When I started writing this post, I wanted to describe a daffodil, looked so closely. But I don't have one of those here - the lines of description were made on my previous experiences. To come to think of it, it's sad I don't have any flowers here now.