All this rush is giving me a rash.

You are always too busy, got a bunch of errands to run but there are simply not enough hours in the day. You have to run like Lola or sprint like a cheetah. You either work or study or even both, have lunch in 7 minutes, grab a quick espresso shot on your way home. You even quit rolling cigarettes cause it was taking you too long. You are mad at your dog cause he can't understand why he only gets to see you for a brief 5 minute walk, or should I better say run? It also took you too long to find true love so you quit the search, too. You buy a newspaper out of habit but you only have time to read the headlines. You 've cut down on the people you exchange words with. Words which sometimes cannot be heard due to the Doppler effect of your muttering and sprinting at the same time. You were too busy to call your brother and wish him happy birthday. You bought a book a year ago and still are on page six. You are aging and that's not only because you don't have enough time to apply face moisturizer. You are rushing to get lonely. You are rushing to get older. 

I don't want my life to resemble a marathon run. Before I grow old I want to learn how to speak 5 languages, meet my neighbors, teach my dog a couple more tricks, take pictures of smiling people I see in the street, fall in love, travel round the world or just go on a trip to the countryside, take my children to the Louvre with a box of colored pencils to draw a Michelangelo of their own, have a long bath, not a quick shower, try opening a bakery, perform in front of an audience, take piano lessons again, inspire people. I do want to create memories cause I'd hate to look back and see nothing but a fast pacing treadmill. 

So please just take a minute in front of the mirror and check yourself for any signs of potential rashes. 

What do you want to be when you go to sleep?

I regret skipping my professional orientation class. Or maybe there was never taught such a subject in my school, I can't really remember.

I can only be sure of some occasional thoughts springing to my mind. Thoughts about occupations that were never an option.

Once I wanted to be a poet. After that I wanted to be a sculptor, a traveller, a lover, or even a mother. I wanted to be a dancer even though I can hardly dance. I even wanted to be French at some point.

There's one thing I accidentally managed to succeed in. I wanted to be a dreamer and so I became one. I found out I could dream on and be all those things. I could be Billy Elliot, Monet, God, Verlaine, Rodin, Poe or Bukowski. I could even be a french girl with freckles working in a bakery. I also dreamt about helping people and not being suspiciously looked at. I dreamt about being surrounded by smiling people. While dreaming I often pretend there's no hate, or ego, or poverty, or pessimism. I pretend the air consists of Oxygen and Love.

No wonder why I'm finding it harder and harder to wake up.

Dear Blog,

As I said earlier I have no idea with what I'm supposed to fill you in so that you 'll look interesting or eye-catching. Maybe because my mind is occupied from zero to countless things - I am always finding it difficult to tell the difference between the two.

The first thought that sprang to my mind is talking about what I love in life.

There are many things I often come across that make my day such as children eating colorful scoops of ice cream, (old couples) holding hands,  my dog's wagging tail first thing in the morning, a cat purring, some father carrying his child up on his shoulders, girls in shopping frenzy, listening to people talk in french (even though I don't understand a word), retro clothing, black and white pictures of lights, peoples noses, green tea, sales, lace, mom's pearls, movies, poems, my diary, dreaming, clouds that form interesting shapes, kisses on the eyelids, my shade looking terribly tall, Rodin's Kiss, surprises, bows, navy blue, stripes, polka dots, a trip in the countryside, listening to music while driving, making things with my hands, my duvet, kissing while smiling, hugs, scents, huge bubble gums, the british accent, PSs, Christmas, my friends coming home for the holidays, baking, and of course my favorite season of the year, Autumn. Especially November. There's nothing I don't love about it. The brown leaves, the sun after a short rain, the wet soil's smell, the chill after a hot and long summer, but my greatest love that brings hope into my heart every single time is an autumn's rainbow. The rainy day's gloom gives its place to this marvelous signature of color and beauty driving away my occasional pessimistic thoughts.

It's then when I know that we will live happily ever after.

That was all I could think of for starters,
M.

P.S.Please don't be too hard on me.

I have no idea what bloggers are supposed to do.