haircut

New do.  New day.  Wildly fanatic about this new haircut.
So today is the day. Mark this day.
I am going to find a new love.  Dramatic-drastically change.   Cut cut.  Move move. 
Walking to positivity in the moon with a found new tune above. 

nutrition cycling

bouncing and change

The loss is hard and the gain is hard.  Plus my life is really messed up because I bounced all over the place, from here to there, and back, that I am no longer solid anywhere.  How do I restart? 

I first named this reflections to help me get through this learning change, now I think I need to rename.  Maybe I should be a reflection of my life.  Maybe now it should be proactive change.

And jeepers, three full days now.  Need a consistent theme.  Better name than Reflections by Anne Guzman.  Well, my name isn't changing so a new description vocab word.  And maybe I need a new theme.  Over death and depression are exhausting.  Health, love, nutrition, travel, wealth, and prosperity for my overall life is better. 

I love travelling through train. Meeting various types of interesting and unique people during a train journey is a big source of internal pleasure and external entertainment to the people. Like many people I have fascination for making memories a journal through train. I am very fond of train journeys because traveling in trains makes me feel pleasant & enjoyable. I was eagerly waiting for an opportunity to travel in train somewhere as I was wanted to experience something good after hectic life. 

So much snow this year. I think it is a sign.  A sign of great things to come in my future, since I had such a rough past.  Some day I will make it and be a bright star.  I guess I am just learning how to redefine success.  My version will be different from the rest.  And I will be content alone again in life and work.  But some day I will make it and be a bright star.

Bright star in the sky.
A big bright star far away.
Welcome home bright star.
by: Anne Guzman

Bright Star

By John Keats 1795–1821 John Keats

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—

         Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

         Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

         Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

         Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—

No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

         Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

         Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever—or else swoon to death.