So since this year is almost over (just a few weeks left) I realize it's time to do that LJ look-back thing. So here are a few exceprts from some of my favorite journal entires of 2009. Some of them bring back great memories. Some of them are from poems. Others are just ransom musings. Enjoy!
January:
Picture this:
It's 4am and the only light on is the book light I have clipped to my glasses. I am sitting in bed feverishly reading A Farewell to Arms as though this were my last night on Earth and I wasn't gettin' into the afterlife without reading more Hemingway.
February:
Last month a friend of my uncle's passed away after having been hit by a car. His wife invited my uncle, my mom, and me down to visit her this weekend. Just a small get together, simple, slightly somber, just to drink to his name. Nothing exceptionally major, right? So we all put on dark colors as a show of respect and tradition, got in the car and drove an hour into the wilderness (haha) of Connecticut. We get there only to discover the whole house is decorated with balloons and streamers for her son's 23rd birthday and he just so happens to be a professional DJ. This evening of collective grieving just turned into a house party complete with strobe lights, techno music, and insane amounts of hard liquor. It was all downhill from there.
March:
I have never learned to work a lighter. My feet were always small and my legs were always long. I was fast. My anatomy has adjusted to a life of running. My lungs do most of the work for me. I exhale and watch the lighter. I inhale and hold it. Everyone smiles at me. For the first time I hear music and I feel like I'm in a movie or a book. I don't remember the song. I feel shaky. My heart is dancing without my body. This is a separation of all things "ME." "Are you feeling it?" Sebas asks slightly grinning. I shrug. They laugh. It's a secret.
April:
In a golden field of rye, there are dozens of them just like her.
These small children heaving frantic,
running fast like tea-kettle steam molecules.
Oblivious to the fiery eye of ill-fate that winks at them.
Oblivious to a future of angst, hard drugs, dead parents, dead friends, and skin too small to hold them comfortably in.
May:
So I'm in the library with an hour to kill before heading downtown and I figured I'd get started on my paper on David Hume. So I type in "David Hume" into ARTstor to find some images and all I get were pages and paged of oil paintings of lobsters. Is there a logical explanation behind this? I think not.
June:
I accompanied Stephanie to Gay Prom the other night. After three hours of sitting at a table, watching clusters of social awkward teenagers sway out of tune to music not suited for their demographic, I realized all proms are alike. It has nothing to do with sexual orientation. We're just all socially inept pillars of flesh looking for ways to feel like we belong to something larger than ourselves. As stupid as this sounds, it's actually a quite comforting reality.
July:
Life's funny like that. One minute you're on skype with the girl you've been best friends since 2nd grade, talking about funny memories; and the next you're watching 80 mph winds tear your street to pieces while all those memories flash in your head synched to the beat of your pounding heart. The storm always passes though. That's one good thing. Whether you make it out alive or not, the storm always passes and the next morning is always sunny and the skies are always cloudless.
August:
It could be worse. I could be missing limbs. I could be over in Iraq. I could be homeless and starving and orphaned at age 2. I could be the lady that killed 8 people on the Taconic Parkway.) I could be a lot of things, but I'm not. I'm okay, man. I'm okay. I'm okay.
September:
There is nothing sadder than the day you look deeply into the eyes of a child and feel absolutely nothing.
October:
"Why are you always laughing at me?" he says looking up from his collection of literary critique articles. He smiles sweetly but there is an undertone of incredible seriousness in his slightly bashful grin. I wonder if he has ever been in love.
November:
When someone tells you that they want to die, it's never a good idea to list reasons why life is worth living, because this is an opinion; But it’s always a good idea to remind them that they're already in the process of dying, because this is a fact.
December:
It’s snowing outside and for the first time in a long time it’s quiet enough to hear the snow fall. I can actually hear the snow fall against my bedroom window.
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