I saw the condensation on your hands, I could feel the glaciers melting.

Wow. Snow days are fantastic.

Inspiration, if I consider myself enough of a writer to call it that, is a strange thing. I can pull it out of me, sometimes, but most of the time I only feel compelled to write when I'm being all torn up by myself or by someone else. And then I have to, sometimes I have moments where I'll be driving, or I don't have a pen and paper ready, and I'll have a couple of seconds of panic, because I just found the right words, or a phrase that somehow works, and I can't write it down. Sometimes I wonder how much I've lost simply because I got inspired, but couldn't write it down at that very moment.