4:03 am - Tuesday, Dec. 16, 2003
Dreaming of azaleas
There is something very innocent about snow. I feel like I could lie in my front yard and let it fall over me and become the person that I always thought I would grow into. Or the person that I once was. It's interesting that I have spent so much time on self improvement and betterment and working away from my insecurities and habits and socializing and expanding and becoming independant, that I have lost contact with the core of who I used to be. And I kind of liked her. If I've gotten anything from my experience at university, it's a real gritty understanding of life. I was talking with Marcus about how exciting it used to be in junior high or high school, when a boy (a man? a guy?) would kiss you, or hold your hand, or (oh man) REALLY kiss you (open mouth!). How you used to wait, and anticipate and worry, how it was blissful and terrifying at the same time, but you would be craving to be terrified, flying and head whirling because it was all new. You felt like the first person in the world who felt that way. Every step (every base, as we used to call them) was a birth of a new part of yourself, something feminine, something older, something intimate. But once you've gone 'all the way', there is nothing left to look forward to...nothing in so long to give you that high. It was a sobering thought that clicked for me - I'm grown up. All of that innocence and naietivity is gone. I can't pretend anymore...althogh I would like to, that I even remotely resemble the person that I was before it all began. Too much has happened. Part of me wants it back.
I'm on autopiolet right now - sleep, drink water, get my assignment done, and get better so that I can go home. I'm going to write to my professor and ask for an extension... but what if I don't get it? How do I balance my health and my responsibilities. I guess that balance is what we all face in some regard - having to balance our outside world, what is real and normal and expected and civil, with our inner desires, the powerful fires that we have, the tiny urges to call someone a bitch, or run off to another country, or stay home for the day. I am very excited to cave in to one of those little desires right now, by writing to my professor, and then going to sleep.
This has been my little episode of masterpiece theatre. Thank you and, good night.
