Decisions, decisions, decisions.

Tattoo or new camera?
Band of Horses, Of Montreal, She & Him, Laura Marling or Griffin House? (I want to buy ONE album on Itunes.  Once I figure out which artist I want, which album do I buy?)
Florida or Hawaii? (The question is more complicated than it seems...)
Birmingham or Anniston? (I only have 5 more months to figure this one out...)

I accomplished a lot today; unfortunately, these tasks were done with heavy-laden thoughts.  Not good.  And I was so happy to cross so many things off of my list!

I'm following this blog and I'm loving so many of her posts.  Today this post has inspired me.  I did a little searching, and it comes from a book called The Book of Nightmares by Galway Kinnell.  After more searching I realized I read a poem that I really enjoyed by him in my ENG 102 class called After Making Love We Hear Footsteps.  I'm thinking of breaking my New Year's Resolution to buy this book.  Should I?

Or maybe I should get this book instead, which would be a good coffee table book...

I guess I'm in a sappy, love mood, because I am stealing this from the above-mentioned blog (I think I want this poem read at my wedding, if I ever get married):

For What Binds Us by Jane Hirshfield

There are names for what binds us:

strong forces, weak forces.

Look around, you can see them:

the skin that forms in a half-empty cup,

nails rusting into the places they join,

joints dovetailed on their own weight.

The way things stay so solidly

wherever they've been set down—

and gravity, scientists say, is weak.

And see how the flesh grows back

across a wound, with a great vehemence,

more strong

than the simple, untested surface before.

There's a name for it on horses,

when it comes back darker and raised: proud flesh,

as all flesh,

is proud of its wounds, wears them

as honors given out after battle,

small triumphs pinned to the chest—

And when two people have loved each other

see how it is like a

scar between their bodies,

stronger, darker, and proud;

how the black cord makes of them a single fabric

that nothing can tear or mend.