log four

Hello, hello, it’s Loretta again! Lorie, maybe? Will someone call me Lorie? Perhaps I’ll find myself comfortable enough with another human being to allow them to call me a pet name.

Today, I’m not feeling inspired. I’ve been struggling with an awful bit of writer’s block, and as such, the flow of creativity has been covered by the hand of some terrible force out there that persists only to spite me. But, I must write, and so I shall. I wanted to scribble something down about my love for beautiful things, and now is a good enough time than ever…

In my deepest, drowning moments of inspiration, my intense bursts of desire for creation (reformation, rather?), I have repeated a perfect pattern of attraction to the “beauty” seen in life. There’s not much distinction between natural and human beauty, a humble fact discerned by my untrained eye, but there is not much room for one as I to make a statement. I know nothing, truly, about beauty. But I love it very much.

I love the beauty of nature. Rustling leaves, bright green like the crunchy colored pencil that found its way onto the ground of my bag, or a vast sky so expansive that makes you feel small, like your place in the world is close to the value of nothing. Isn’t your place in the world close to the value of nothing? Worlds are different sizes. Everyone has their own definition, and likewise one’s own significance could be ‘decided’ in a similar way- that is, not decided at all, because of the massive gaps between the view of every human being. All in all, natural beauty is quite nice… it seems there’s some hidden force working in darkly lit corners that wants humans to return back to their primitivity as cavemen. Is that why we like natural things?

You could find beauty in man’s makings, too, if you wanted. If you looked hard enough. Men have imitated nature because it’s their prime example of what real beauty looks like, and sometimes they successfully create their own idealized, civilization-tainted form of beauty in nature.

The most important beauty, though, is the beauty in a person’s face. At first, it sounds disgustingly shallow. What is the lack of heart needed to determine another’s value based on such material? Yet, beauty’s very important no matter who holds the eye, which is indisputable.

The most important thing is the face. It’s the first thing another person sees. It contains what they call the window to the soul, the eyes. The cheeks and lips rise when one smiles. Is material beauty needed? It’s debatable. If the goal is convention, then of course, but convention is not always the best way to go about something as short as human life.

But, either way, I love beautiful people. I love smiles. I love to hear the laughs of people I love with all my heart, but there is not an abundance of people I feel this way towards, and as such my daily doings become much less enjoyable. Still, the scarcity of beauty makes it much more appreciated when it is caught and observed.

Life is very beautiful, and at the same moment I snap a picture of the sunset there is a woman, on the other side of the world, holding her brutally unbreathing child with tears streaming down her face.

Is beauty important when there is such an awful myriad of ugliness? Beauty can only be found in the right places, it seems, and the best way to figure out the path to it is by avoiding ugliness.

I love to write nonsense.

But, I really do love beautiful things, and beautiful people, and there’s such a small amount of this beauty that it makes me much more elated when I really do chance upon it.