June 30, 2003 :: 11:32 p.m.
when the sun sets on tomorrow
Sitting here with the blank white entry box staring at me, I find myself strangely lacking ideas. I have nothing new to say, nothing witty or sarcastic or interesting. My day consisted of reading, cursing my "free to any schmuck who wants to take it" garage sale giveaway sewing machine, trying to dress like a girl and failing miserably, making a skirt that is already is desperate need of adjustments (I fucked up one of the pockets so that it only lies flat when it's pointing toward my ass), eating spaghetti with Adam, watching a breathtakingly beautiful sunset by the river, and taking a trip to the grocery store to pick up various personal hygiene products (for him, not me, which is fortunate since I can't afford them). And it suddenly strikes me as odd that any day involving a sunset like the one we saw tonight would seem dull or boring in any way.
I believe there was a time, perhaps back in the carefree days before I became a bitter, jaded bitch with a shriveled and blackened grape where my heart should be, when just witnessing nature's grandeur was enough to make me smile contentedly. Tonight, sitting on the sun-warmed concrete steps by the full and healthy Susquehanna, I did revel a bit. I had Adam next to me, a wonderful breeze was playing through the trees, and one of the most spectacular displays of color that I've ever laid eyes on was playing out in front of me. For a moment, it was perfect - the warmth, the love, the beauty - the absolute tranquility that presents such a stark contrast to the bustling city streets not 100 feet behind us. But it didn't last. Even as I heard myself exclaiming over and over again about how beautiful it all was, my mind was consumed with the thought that it would end, it would all be dark and ugly again, as if the sun would take my vicarious joy with it when it hid behind the mountains. For all the peace and brilliant, vibrant beauty, there was a pervasive sadness, a sinking black hole that could be ignored for a few moments but never destroyed or forgotten.
That is the difference between what I call myself today and who I used to be. It's amazing what a few years can change.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005