Blog Episode 104: “Wet ground and the snow is still not falling. Circumstances are alarming, darling.
The future is just a word, that's how I recall it. The past is much more present in our yawning. Seemingly it seems to me I'm subject to a joke, and it's not a test” (I know, long title)
The future is just a word, that's how I recall it. The past is much more present in our yawning. Seemingly it seems to me I'm subject to a joke, and it's not a test” (I know, long title)
This blog entry, yeah I know it’s been a while, is about dealing with the feelings that you can’t express, and you can’t ignore.
It was over the Christmas holidays, and my brother wanted to go through some old photographs and scan them into his computer so he could have another copy. There were so many photos of me and him in Germany, and going on trips that we haven’t looked at in ages.
A couple of thoughts that so many probably are familiar with passed through my head, as I looked at photographs of myself and my parents:
1. For the first time ever, I saw my parents as actually people, a man and a woman who love each other. They drink beer, they laugh, and they…have sex… (eeeeuuuu) they walk and talk like normal people, not like the aliens that most kids think they are. They smoked weed and got into trouble too.
2. It hit me that these photos are all I have; they are all we have, to know that we existed. They are documents of how happy and free we once were. We realize that that moment is the high point of life, and I don’t remember any of it. Bits flash through my head like the bits of files on a broken hard drive, but these photos are all the hard evidence I have of when nothing mattered, except waking up in the morning and watching “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” or coming home and watching “Square One” on PBS as my mom makes me Spaghetti-O’s.
Don’t get me wrong, this is not making me really really sad at all. Right now I am just lonely, not extremely sad. Both of those together are a recipe for disaster. It has allowed me to wake up a little from this fresh hell called “earth.” I am starting to accept that there are things I want and could die for, that I can’t have, I have many regrets swimming in my head that I am trying to get rid of.
So...yeah. I need to get back to my other writing assignment. The loneliness talk I am saving for the script. I need something to write about. This stuff really doesnt fit in the movie. So I thought I would share the observation and vent a little. Hope it was coherent enough. I always worry that things I say don't make sense to people because I tend to ramble on.
