... stolen pockets of time. Away from the crazy rush; neglecting all my responsibilities for just a few hours, to breathe. To take time to listen to myself. To take time to reflect and mumble on and on about how I feel. Listen. To process different thoughts and throw different views and ideas that could be absolute logic, or just purely whimsical.

... quaint little places tucked away in little corners of busy streets. A place with so many little details that captures one's eyes, like a huge playground would a child's. Bookshelves filled with books - oh books, I'd live in a library if I could - that have stories to tell; not just the author's but the books themselves, oh if they could speak, think of all the stories they'd tell. Of all the people who have pored over them intensely within hours. Or that faithful stranger who comes in every Tuesday and orders a cup of warm Chamomile tea and sits at that very spot, reading for exactly 45 minutes each time, no more no less. Or that one distasteful, weird guy that picked them up and read the first and last chapter *tsk*. And those random music CDs and movies strewn around the room in the most artfully messy way, bits of polaroids just stuck on the wall with good old sticky tape. Chalk boards, walls that are not even completely painted, wooden furniture with not-icky-stains that speaks of previous unique dining experiences.

... to think about the time when I will travel to this place again in the near future when I can steal another pocket of time away from the world. I'd bring a good book and order forest fruit tea because it smells so good. I'd read. I'd write. I'd pretend to be incredibly poetic for a night. I'd pause and look around the room, taking in every little detail, just because everything is so pretty. Have long conversations with myself in my head. Have long conversations with God and have Him blow me away with yet another revelation.

... being out with people I can talk with without thinking too hard. Not needing to edit and think in my head, just blurting out words that are haphazardly strung together. Telling things as they are. Things I struggle with. Things that I need someone else to know. At the same time, being pushed to strive for more. More vulnerability than there already is.

... ending the day with a wide cheesy smile. *grins*


How another person can always see more in you than you do yourself always makes me a little more optimistic. If that's what he thinks, my heart skips a beat just wondering for a moment what God thinks.

Times like this paints a brighter tint in my lens for humanity. Aren't we really all the same when you remove all the junk on top? We need open doors. Everyone does. Really. If you think you're an exception, you are wrong. Life is so much better with open doors. Yes, you'll get hurt at times. It might rain. Dust might sneak in. But it's worth it.

I must learn to be an open door for others. Stop being selfish Janine. Make a fool of yourself. :)

PSSSST! Lord? ILY! Please teach me to love and be open and love some more. Just like You!
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