Poison, Her Tears are Poison

I'm the type of girl writing out PR/Marketing plans while listening to stark songs. I want to learn all about ROIs and income statements between RapGenius' annotated lyrics for Earl Sweatshirt. It's time to grab the Accounting 101 books and dice through moments of fiction. I didn't think it's possible to be this way, until I see him: ice-coffee drinking, meeting-going, world-traveling, blunt-rolling him. If love was a textbook I say he's becoming my unremitting mentor, and from the way he absorbs the world I learn the rhythm and pace of "doing" and remaining effortlessly calm. The past year, more than anything else, has been a tapestry of new worlds opened by information, and a bottomless appetite for all things that move me deeply. I am curious, deeply curious, and only too blessed to be able to experiment with ideas that I learn from paper to put to action. There is an excitement that fills me everyday in a routine of regiment, because realizing that creativity and productivity comes from a place of control and organization is probably one of the biggest gains this year (correction: I'm not talking about becoming a Rilke here...).

As for Rilke, there is a fear that words are drifting far from me. Even as I consume more words than ever, I write less and probably write less well, but it will remain an outlet in which I am most lethal. Words, like everything else in life right now, is a place where I can organize and create.

Cheers to end of the year.