I don't know why it is, but in the last few days it seems I'm starting to notice things. Little things that usually get taken for granted, like the headlights reflecting off of puddles in the parking lot to make lights dance on the side of the apartment buildings, or the sound the water makes as the tire parts it. Everything starts having significance, and I am inspired by the black-garb clad roller-blader with the tattoo and black dyed hair, my mind stats trying to find a niche for him, to analyze and lock him away, a potential character. Words seem to have more meaning, heavy with imagery or feeling, and I stop what I am reading mid-sentence to write them down, guardian, velvet, assassin, I wonder why this creative peak is here, and I wonder what I will do with it. Will it stick with me until November, and Nano Wrimo - unlikely. Will I do anything productive with this time where I am eager to taste the words to test their weight and explore the sensations that make up life, probably not, because as I sit to write, and reflect I analyze too much, chase away the creative thoughts that crowded and shoved moments ago to be heard out on my drive home. The page swallows up the words as the ink sets them down, and mundane as it is, may use them up forever but I hope I remain inspired, or at least alert to life in this detail. It seems to make things so much richer, and more worthwhile. With the wonder of a child, I go to face the day.

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