Your thoughts are so much more than words.

I'm not sure what to write to-day...I believe that I am running out of ideas. I presume that it is simple to conclude when one's day is monotonous, colorless, mundane, and repetitious such as attending school day after day, following the same ordinary schedule. But then again, how could life be bland with God? We are blind to the breathtaking works He brings to us daily, such as the rain. Now, in the heart of the city, the color of puddles are far from pleasing. Not to mention the slightly acrid smell, which is not very difficult to catch as the first premonition to a rain fall is by scent. Then again, it isn't a quite displeasing smell. I find the rain quite therapeutic, especially during the summer.

It seems to me that writing a blog everyday is extremely efficient in releasing any tension or anger or overwhelming emotion that I am feeling. I believe it has become a daily part of my life, or at least every other day. I wish I could write everyday, for my own enjoyment of course. If only we had all the time in the world, but then again, there is never enough time. I have always had the nagging feeling that I could be out there doing so much more. There is no doubt that I do have plenty time on my hands, which is invested in education. Going to school isn't terribly awful, per se, it's just...well I'm not sure how exactly I could describe what I would like to say. It's just, I know I would rather be doing something else. Something along the lines of helping people. I find it a blessing that I have arms and legs, am in well-being, have a home and friends. It is so disheartening to me to know that many out there are not as fortunate as I am, and yet I take for granted all I have been given. I just wish I could do something more.

Life has been particularly exhausting, after a day in school, I have already been drained of the last trickle of energy. I've been kept on my toes for quite awhile now, waiting for those yellow mornings and buzzing hot afternoons. And the bronzed crimson of the sun as it sets for the cool summer nights. I miss it. And I yearn for the contentment when you indulge in the coolness of lake water, and the bright feeling you receive after dipping your first toe in. I'm not quite poetic, am I? Then again, I find no other approach as effective as this to express everything that I remember. But, again, words can only do so much.