Do boundaries exist for those in the inside, or those in the outside? What about labels? Limits? And rules? My poetry professor spoke of restrictions the other day, and called them "creative guidelines." Do those "guidelines" exist to make the ones who abide by them feel good, or to make those who rebel, feel bad?

I met with a friend for coffee today at Norris, which is the building on our campus with Starbucks and a lovely little fireplace to warm up near. We were talking about differences and perspectives and our ability to misunderstand someone to a point of disliking that person. Then he said he does not hate. I was this close to ruling out the possibility when he said,

"Hating someone, when he is loved by someone, elsewhere? What does that even mean?"

I really really liked that.

It's one of those winters when things pop up one by one. The sequence seems like a good idea in theory, but the sheer magnitude of all the spots jumbled up into one huge claypiece is overwhelming. It's like taking vitamins. You can take one by itself, but taken with other vitamins simultaneously can be a little awkward for your throat.

Guichanaso.