it's crisp out, and crisp isn't usually a word that's associated with summer - unless you're getting burnt to one.

but here we are on july the first, and it's chillsville out - cold blue skies and a sun that won't warm to me. and here i am back in the land of canada, on a weekend that celebrates patriotism and the essence of being canadian (what is that, even?) and red and white oozes from all our pores, and decorates the streets with streamers and confetti and other such dollar store gems.

and though it's been at least four days since i got off a plane, my ears are still ringing and there's a pressure in my head that's a thump a thump thumping me into the oblivion of ouch. what i mean is it's driving me to distraction. which isn't a bad thing really - in fact, it's probably just what the subconscious ordered - that way i don't have to really think about anything that might be troubling me. just focus on the beating of the drum in my mind. or the pure silliness of the sentence that just came so willingly off my typing fingers. i suppose likening my headache to some primordial drum just illustrates how things have gotten me stupid. and by stupid i mean pretentious and irritating.

tomorrow i get right back on a big ol jet airliner, which will take me too far away. well, far enough, for a week of culture shock rock around the blockity block. trying to pack clothes that won't make me stand out as some sort of metropolitan mincer. hard, when my entire wardrobe seems to consist of black dresses. and so i ransack the recesses of my closet, searching for that gingham sundress i once bought on a whim, those tank tops and flip flops guaranteed to dumb me down to dowdy.

it's going to be a trip. even more so than the one i just came back from. my mind is sure to be even more muddled when i return. perhaps that will make my writing clearer somehow. or perhaps not. after all, who wants method when you can just have pure madness?