The Girls of 1416

You know you want my job.

Say "hello" to some girls from class 502, the "Bright Skies"

We had shared a song with them; they're returning the favor. <3

You caught me.

I admit it. 

Instead of allowing my creative juices to process, instead of allowing myself time to sit down and write out a witty blog post, I'm instead defaulting to videos. [I'm not denying the fact that they shed a whole new light on what's goin' on over here. They are quite fun :)] For the past several years I've termed November as "Demolition". As the Father shifts the changing weather outside, He runs a parallel to my inner workings: crafting, cutting, welding. Why November? I don't know. The leaves of 'what was' fall and it leaves me

longing, Elmers Glue & tape won't fix the heap of color and shelter that's at the roots.

exposed, all the twisted and jutted edges that are normally hidden by whats on the ground

& shielded, as all the inner workings of a tree trunk brace themselves for winter.

Sometimes I like to think that trees can think. Sometimes I make up their inner dialouge.

"Man, just wait till spring. I'm gunna bust out some leaves that are bigger and better than those measely ones on the ground. Bring it on winter, you don't know what's comin'!"

At least if I was a tree, that's what I'd think.