In an attempt to stir things up a bit, I’ve black listed the word Routine from my vocabulary. There is a high probability that my eating, sleeping, and exercise patterns will fall by the wayside, but at this moment, this cozy-on-my-air-mattress-moment, I feel confident that the benefits of welcoming some spontaneity into my life will generously outweigh any minor blips of disorder that may come my way.
To give the above statement some meaning, I decided today that I would alter my blogging pattern by discovering, admiring, and creating at night, allowing me to finally utilize the time I so frequently waste in a post-dinner food coma for something productive: reflection.
Despite today’s blue skies, (how many skies are there, really?) the brisk air felt grey. It wasn’t a melancholic or thick grey, but more a secretive and boundless grey — as if every tree I passed on my morning run was hoarding a little mischief, and was brimming with indivisible knowledge. Needless to say, this intriguing color morphed into a mood and followed my thoughts and motives around all day, leading me ever-so-appropriately to John Hanson‘s photostream. A gold mine of greyness.