Feeling

Sense no. 1: Feeling. (Where there are areas that go ..., that is where I decided to skip over a couple paragraphs, just so I don't ruin the book for you in case you might want to read it.)
"'...You don't have hair.' Thandi points to Liz's head which is completely bald except for the earliest sprouts of light blond growth.
Liz strokes her head with her hand, enjoying the odd smoothness of it. What hair there is feels like feathers on a newborn chick. She gets out of bed and looks at her reflection in the mirror. Liz sees a girl of about sixteen with very pale skin and greenish blue eyes. The girl, indeed, has no hair.
'That's strange', Liz says. In real life, Liz has long, straight blond hair that tangles easily.
'Didn't you know', Thandi asks.
Liz consideres Thandi's question.
...'Hey, I've got weird things, too.' Thandi raises her canopy of braids like a theater curtain. 'Ta da', she says, revealing a small but deep, still-red wound at the base of her skull.
...'How did you get that?'
'Don't remember', says Thandi, rubbing the top of her head as if she could stimulate her memory with her hands. 'It might have happened a long time ago, but it could have been yesterday, too, know what I mean?'
Liz nods. Although she doesn't think Thandi makes any sense, Liz sees no point in arguing with the crazy sorts of people one meets in a dream.
'We should go', Liz says.
On the way out, Thandi casts a cursory glance at herself in the mirror. 'You think it matters that we're both wearing pj's?', she asks.
Liz looks at Thandi's white nightbown. Liz herself is wearing white men's-style pajamas. 'Why would it matter', Liz asks, thinking it far worse to be bald than underdressed. 'Besides, Thandi, what else do you wear while you're dreaming?'
~ from Elsewhere by Gabrielle Zevin, p. 11-13

Still Here

I've been thinking about a lot of things lately.
(...She looks motherly, yet like she's still breathtaking. That is beauty. It's not something you can apply to your face...)

I've been thinking a lot about my family, and the women in my family especially. I just wish I could have known them longer (or at all), talked to them about her life. Because it's not the same hearing stories without their own points of view, and insight. Isn't it wierd, that people go through their lives keeping secrets, or memories, and never getting around to sharing them?

I've been thinking about me personally, about my writing. I mean, seriously, I want to be a writer so badly, that when I hear someone tell me otherwise, I just want to scream.

I've been thinking about friends, and what it means to be one.

I've been thinking about love, and what it means to love someone. It's all so vague. Do I treat my family and friends well, or not?

I've been thinking about the "Real World", and how I can make it a place that doesn't give me wrinkles when I'm old. I don't want to tell people otherwise when I'm older; I really think that work and life can be beautiful if that's what you want to make it.

I need to study

to talk

to read

to write

to hug someone

to cry.

Yet, I'm still not doing any of those things. I'm still thinking.

Jade Stew

Ingredients:
2 cups of wiseness to last a lifetime
1 pint of fresh stubbornness
3 generous handfulls of loyalty
1 ounce of strong opinions
1 1/2 tablespoons of love
2 teaspoons of pure uniqueness
a splash of old soul charm
one heaping spoonfull of sarcasm
and a dash of laughter

Directions:
Combine all ingredients together in a large purple porcelean bowl and stir with an old fashioned silver spoon or a wooden one. For best results, add saltwater from the ocean and a small handfull of snow from the 1st snowfall of the year. Add a minced cat whisker that fell off from your cat and a purple flower petal as well. If you cannot find a purple flower petal, a pinch of purple food coloring is fine.
When everything is mixed, put the bowl out in the sun on a windy day at sunrise and leave it there till noon.

And that's how you make Jade Stew!