2007-11-08
can't you c
I�m having trouble figuring out how the letter �c� fits into some words.
At first I tried to remember to ask someone about it at dinner, and then I remember that this was the sort of thing that I used to blog about, way back when, when I went to Flathead High. Like oh that was such a long time ago I am so over it. Not.
So the C. I Implore: what is the difference between �solitude� and �solicitude�?
What is the difference between �amiable� and �amicable�?
These are the sorts of things I used to blog about.
I have become hyper-observant. I accumulate details about people the same way that some people might strike up a baseball card collection or a large DVD repertoire. Except my habit incessantly manifests itself, to the point where I can recognize someone 100 meters away, with a hat on. I can identify them, their stride, and recite to myself on of the things I know about them. I�m no stalker, not by any means; I am far more concerned with myself than I am with anyone else. But other people provide mere entertainment, amusement, if you will. Their antics, however dull or overdone or irritating, are not my own. This sounds negative. It�s not completely so, but it�s getting to the point where I am getting exasperated with myself, thinking I have people �all figured out� when really I don�t know shit about them.
My brother is dysfunctional. I remember the feeling of being concerned about him. In eighth grade, I was a �peer counselor.� We had to learn about different emotional issues that people experience. Low self esteem, anger, bereavement, drugs/alcohol. When we went over the suicide unit, I remember sensing the symptoms in him. I remember worrying, and knowing that I was wrong. Of course I was wrong. He�s fine. We�re all fine. But I don�t think he is.
Thom called me the other day. I like his sense of humor best of anyone�s. I am eager to be twenty, to get on with it.
I am ready to get on with it. I�m seeking renovation, I think. Is that good? People are always eager when they try to improve themselves. And it so often falls flat. I just don�t know. Here�s some Weakerthans:
I'm unconsoled
I'm lonely
I am so much better than I used to be
Rely a bit too heavily
On alcohol and irony
Get clobbered on by courtesy
In love with love and lousy poetry
And I'm leaning on this broken fence
Between past and present tense
And I'm losing all those stupid games
That I swore I'd never play
But it almost feels okay
But it feels okay
And I'm leaving with goodbye
And I'm losing but I'll try
With the last ways left
To remember sing
My imperfect offering
The last few lines of �The Awakening� haunt me. Can I be a book critic? I wouldn�t know what to say. But I don�t know what else I want to say.
I�m thinking about some of the things I have lost, randomly. A close relationship with Aunt Krissy. A working friendship with Laura. Edward, as a guardian. A boyfriend, and friend, in Danny. Mere friendships that entailed, like Andy. Andy. The essence of Petie and Julian, whenever I want it, on demand instantly. Megan, until she returns, if she�ll have me. Pete; I didn�t even have that, I wouldn�t take it, and I already lost it before I even had it. I should have kissed him. A kiss is just a kiss.
All of these things ended up being people.
I�m ready for my vacation. I had all summer, all summer, away from people, the thought of them in my heart and mind. And now here I am again, accessible, and it�s gone. Vacation time. For some chilling winter sunsets.
I want to delve into the romance of my body. I�ve been writing about this for a while now. I want to recede myself from social life, from priorities involving approval and gratification. I can be my own lover.
What happens next? I always end up asking myself. More me. Less everything else. Kill your mind.
To me this feels like a very bad entry. But I am trying. I am trying both to get back to and away from some sense of myself. Trying to tackle some simple creeds.
If it feels good and it sounds nice, don�t doubt yourself, don�t even think twice.
leesah-likes at 4:50 p.m.