It's been a while since I've done a real heart-to-heart with my writing here. It's Saturday, March 4th. January seems ages ago, and February blew by with great speed, despite how slowly it chugged along. In 4 weeks it'll be the 1st of April. 4 weeks by itself seems like quite a while right now, but I know, like many measurements of time we create, it'll feel like it blew by, like the breeze I just felt from an open window, when I am actually standing in the middle of April the 1st.
I had all kinds of thoughts by staring out my window downstairs in my room. I'm up in the computer lab right now, because I'm not sure how long my laptop will hold out. I don't like the view as much. My view downstairs lets me look far out into the world--the neighborhoods below, the water, the mountains and islands beyond, and I could see clouds moving in the distance. Up here I get a wall of trees that grow along Sehome hill. It's kinda acting like a physically manifested mindblock. I need to be downstairs where I can see a bit more clearly.
I keep getting cravings for smoothies.
There. I'm back in my room. On my bed. With my view. And with my roommate's computer. I was kinda stealing it when she walked in the door with her boyfriend... "Can I use your computer?" *guilty feeling* But she's cool, so I'm using it. I'm not quite alone in my room anymore, which is simultaniously a good and bad thing. Oh well.
I'm still alone with my thoughts up here on my bed and a screen no one else but me can see. That'll do.
Looking out on the water, I can see several sailboats taking advantage of the mostly sunny weather. Looks kinda pretty... aesthetically pleasing, in the very least. It reminds me distantly of my grandparents, and being down at their house. I know they have a picture of sailboats somewhere in their house. Damn, I want to cross my fingers in hopes that an opportunity to venture back to San Diego will come my way this summer. I want good things to happen...
Occasionally when I look out the window into the water a much bigger boat will take me by surprise as it comes alone. The little sailboats and motorboats are nice to look at, but they don't give me a... well, an almost shock value at seeing something so big suddenly in the water. Sometimes it's fun to imagine that they are huge sea creatures majestically and ominously floating by. ... One thing I seem to do alot is to put my thoughts in terms of animals.
When I see large bodies of water, sometimes what I really like to imagine is seeing a gigantic aquatic creature/monster briefly breaking the surface, or swimming so close to the surface that you can see its waved outline along the surface. It's a vision of a huge thing that both fascinates me and scares me at the same time. It would be a creature that I would want to run away from and approach and touch--and maybe ride.
It's always fun to imagine, but the sensible part of me knows that such a thing is never likely to happen, especially when it's merely the puget sound that I'm staring across from here. Heck, as far as we know, the ocean doesn't carry too many shock-and-awe-huge creatures, not nearly the amount that we like to imagine about. Still, there's something somewhat fulfilling in letting your imagination be creative...
And once in a while I get a slap in an old, deep wound. Of all things, I think that's what gives me the most pain. Once, it made me the most happy. Everything seems to be a double-bladed sword these days... is there something out there that'll make me happy without the risk of hurting me one day?
Every day I get a Rent song stuck in my head. I kid you not, EVERY DAY. Some days it'll be one song, some days I'll have a Rent DJ in my head. This morning. It's "Without You."
Without You... it rings true. But what's true? Who is the "you" that I really speak of? I could label it down to one specific person, but even since then, there's been other "yous" that I've had to live without. That I die without. Is the "you" just an idea of someone to be with, who will make me feel alright about nearly everything, even for a little while (or a longer while)?
Or maybe the "you" is my idea of inspiration. (Holy FUCK, do the girls on my floor need to be as loud as they are? Nothing personal, really, but SHUT. UP. Especially when I'm trying to have some peace of mind her... oy. Sorry, sidenote.) I haven't felt really inspired for a long time. I get little spurts once in a while, but they seem to die off very quickly. My art reflects that. I haven't been able to create a work of art I've been really proud of for a long time. My best works seem to come from about the middle of high school, when I first started taking real art classes. Maybe the inspiration of finally being able to express myself to someone who would appreicate it to the fullest extent. Maybe being able to do what I do best in my own time by myself was my inspiration. And for a while, during art class, it was true--I didn't really have friends in there. There were people I talked to on occasion, but it was mostly just me there. Just me drawing and painting and otherwise artistically creating. When I did have friends in art, my work did seem to decline a little bit. I do have artistic friends, but I think it's best that I try not to make too many in my art classes. Or ones that I won't talk to too much. It needs to be just me...
Todd and Kit have long gone by now. It's just me again. Me, me, me.
Although just me can be really lonely sometimes, I think it needs to be just me for a while, and more often. I've been so afraid of just me for as long as I can remember... Just me alone never seemed good enough.
Being alone.
It's one of my greatest fears...
The Book has grabbed my attention. It's a pretty good sign when The Book grabs my attention. A bad one when I want to avoid it. I've done both. The Book is one of the books my dad gave me to, well, prepare me for the world out there, now that I've grown older. The other one was The Art of Loving. A very good book. I've subscribed to just about every idea in that book, and I've subscribed to the idea that everyone in the world should read that book. Someone else has my copy... I want it back, but the thought of getting it back scares me like nothing else...
Anyway, The Book. I started reading it many times before, and then put it down and nver really picked it back up again. That's another nasty habit of mine. I've got a painting of a kitten on my desk that I started in January and haven't picked up since then. Many books have been put down and never picked up again by me. The difference with books and paintings is books is that paintings... well, they run the risk of losing whatever inspiration they started with. Then the painting ends up no good. Books, though they can require certain moods, can be read any old time and be just as good as they started with. I am reading more these days... not too much more, but more.
Anyway, The Book. Its full title is The Book On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are. Fascinating, no? I think it is, anyway. It's very much a book my dad would love, and definitely a book I would take with me. My dad is pretty much right about everything. I don't agree with every single one of his ideas, but I end up agreeing with most of what he tells me. Maybe it's because I've been raised by my dad for nearly 20 years now, but I'd like to think that I'm independantly deciding that most of my dad's ideas are good ideas. I'm turning into more of my dad every day.
Just the other day I was talking with my brother online, trying to help him with a project for school (that I did myself two years ago), and I started talking about the goal of the project... I can't remember what I said, exactly, but I remember sounding alot like, if not exactly like, my dad.
It's Graham's birthday today. He's 18. Eight... teen. Damn, he's growing up. He's officially a young adult now... I'm not the only one in the house anymore. It's almost too much to really think about... he'll be going to college soon too.
I remember when I turned 18. I remember the day pretty well. I sat in my mythology class, with nothing out of the ordinary happening yet... And my (beloved) 11th Grade US History Teacher, Mr. Rettmann, bedecked with stick-on bows and presenting a bouquet of roses, led the class in a "Happy Birthday" song to me. I remember sinking in my chair. I also remember Michelle presenting me with a birthday sign (because a big trend back in those days was to wear a sign indicating it was your birthday in one way or another... "Kiss me..." was a popular one), this time saying "I'm 18! I can buy you... Nothing! It's my birthday, not yours!" I got funny reactions out of the people around me... I was a little lost myself. It's now that I can fill in the pause with "Cigarettes" or "Porn" or the less-popular "Lotto Ticket." I'm a slow one.
The day otherwise was rather ordinary. I don't remember much else happening. I remember it was sunny. I don't remember what I got from my parents. I can guarantee you my cake was chocolate, but I don't remember how it was decorated. It had 18 candles on it.
I should give my brother a call later. I don't get to see him today, afterall.
Every once in a while the pain comes.
I've got to feel it.
Just feel the pain.
Just me.
No one else here with me.
Just me and the pain.
It's not bad.
It's just me and my pain.
It'll pass... but it has to be there.
I have to feel it before I let it go.
There.
There's a row of sailboats out there now, all going in the same direction. Some have white sails, some sails look a little more tan. Are they in a race?
I've just had some random Harry Potter thoughts...
They were neat. And scary.
It's about 1:30. I haven't eaten anything yet. I missed brunch; it ended half an hour ago. I'm feeling the need to eat something. I dont' know if anything on campus is open. Well, the market is open... but I don't know.
I kind of want to venture downtown. Part of me wants someone to go with, but I don't know if I have anybody. Adria's just about always busy with her AUAP students, as she is an IPA this year. She's really happy, and I'm glad she's happy with what's she's doing. Keeli's hard to predict... and she's always rather busy these days. And stressed. And now's not the time to bother her. Kit went bye-bye with Todd. I don't talk to Sarah and Diane much these days. Don't really feel inclined to be with just them either. Lee I only hang out with in groups and with Kit. Robert went home this weekend. And anyone else... it's too complicated.
Besides, this might be a good exercise in "By-Myself-ism." I could go check out some resturant downtown. Give myself a treat of yummy food. Take a book with me. Take The Book, even. Take the chance of meeting someone new down there. Take the chance of being by myself. Do something slightly scary.
And do something even scarier.
After a shower. My hair is disgusting.
Earlier I saw a shadow of a cloud over the water, and it looked like an underwater silhouette of monsterous creature. A big, terrible, awesome, scary, wonderful creature in the water. It frightens me... and I want to touch it.
Here goes.
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