There’s always so much to write about, and I hate how I keep forgetting them. On the drive home from Anu’s just now, I came up with so many things, yet now sitting here I can only remember wanting to write entries on “my greatest enemy”, “the end of freshman year”, “summer again”, “PROM 2005”, “how I love to create”, and “the new book that I’ve decided to write. Not having music on when driving home alone at night is my best mode of brainstorming. I like how Xanga/LiveJournal pushes me to write regularly, about random things that come to mind. It’s such a waste to lose thoughts like this, and I appreciate how much blogging contributes to our collective literature. Never before has there been so much literature (and those who say that blogs, about our lives isn’t literature can go kiss Shakespeare’s dead arse) churned out every day, with such easy access to anyone in the world. If each person’s life experience is a world on its own, these blogs and the internet have built a viewing bridge into so many of our fellow universes. If anything, blogs are a constant reminder that each and every person does indeed have a life they’re living, and that not matter how bad we seem to be, look around the blog world enough—there’re those in much dire positions.
Anyway, on this new book idea, while I was driving home, I was hit with an inspiration. I was thinking as usual, trying to stay awake this time, and suddenly decided that I want to write a book, and call it “On life… (at 20)”. It sounds crazy now, but bear with it—the whole book will be a reflection on life and existence from a personal point of view, and within this book there will be chapters on relevant topics on living that I’ve come to think about over the past (nearly) twenty years of my life (yeah it’s really scary thinking that I’ve lived that long). I already came up with “On living”, “On purpose”, “On love”, etc… I’m not presuming to know what any of these really are, but I’d like to keep track of all the reflections I’ve had over these things, and the process of how I got to where I am now. Haha… and I’m sure my childhood reflections will give a person or two a laugh, and maybe a couple more a moment of thought. I figure that even my thoughts are worth something.
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I’ve been doing a little reflecting lately, and yes, I know that I say/do this all the time, but this time it’s something more. The first year of college is over. Glimpsing back at the past as I sit in my room at home behind the same old computer, it’s as if summer ended—WHOOSH—and its summer again. Of course I know so much more has happened, but if it wasn’t for all the reflecting that I’ve done over the year, I could almost believe that it was all a dream.
[I’ve decided to move this entry from Xanga to Livejournal. I think there’s finally a structure to my blogging now… Xanga is for living, Livejounal is for reflecting.]
That alone is enough of a reason to keep reflecting—to remind us that we are living significant lives, with events that push us, people that change us, and experiences that shape our experiences to come. Haha—there’s a Cathy-isque line there—not like I didn’t write them before.
Digressing… digressing…
I never said what reflecting I’ve been doing, have I… Well it’s that I’m scared of honesty, and since I started writing more and more in blog form, I’ve almost grown to fear reflecting in candid truth to myself. I’m so political that I’ve begun to politick to my own self-concept. How sad is that? I suppose it would be sadder if the whole situation weren’t so complicated, and if it weren’t for the fact that more people read this LJ than I know. But that’s the way it should be if I’m to continue writing as I have been.
But I think I’ll do a dare and put my faith on (selective) truth.
And this is where I ask the readers to keep the read to themselves. I didn’t choose my readership here, but I do ask that you refrain from choosing secondary readers.
One of the other thoughts I had while driving back is that I think I know why I’ve been having such a hard time liking anyone else, and that’s because I never completely stopped liking the last person. That’s my only valid explanation, short of saying that no one “better” has been found. In spite of her happiness in her current situation, and what I thought of as “okay, moving on” recent reflections have led me to believe that some part of me is still stuck in her gravity aura. Squishy seems to believe that some part of us is always attached to people we’ve liked in the past, and while I say this is true, there’s enough commitment to new true “likes” to render those of the past relatively insignificant. I know this is true because of how I escaped the one before. It was hard. It was a choice. I even cried on the outside, in awe of its significance—Rosa and Kai kai as my witnesses, I let go of that one before. But it’s so hard to move when the last person still has such a strong pull. In spite of my list of C’s and K’s (very interesting coinkedinks!), I’ve told my closest friends that I truly believe that I’ve only really/truly liked these two people (with one major recent in-between exception) over the past three years. Only these two have had my utmost respect, and admiration, and appreciation, and tinglyness in nearby vicinity. Sureness comes in degrees, but these two are orders of magnitude higher in how sure I was. Moving on is hard to do, and convincing myself doesn’t quite achieve what I need to be pulled away again. This past attraction colors everything I do (regarding the next), even if I don’t know it. Yet on the surface, I’ve let myself move on. On many levels, I’ve pretended (often without knowing) that I have completely escaped the pull of the last stellar object, but now, I really really think I haven’t. The old pull is still there, in spite of a year’s worth of distance, and knowledge of continued distance. Looking ahead, the “click” factor just hasn’t hit, and whether it’s because of all the other distracting factors (past stellar object included), or maybe the key just doesn’t fit, I don’t know. If I was strong enough of a man, no sexist notions intended, I wouldn’t move until I heard/saw/felt that click. I mean… force hard enough, and the lock will break, but that’s not real; just a case of the wrong key shoved into the wrong heart.
Time… everyone I care about says that time will tell things. Maybe they will. Until then, I’ll take the last one’s advice, and “take things slow…”
I’m so weak… I need the God’s guidance ahead and strength behind me… time maybe for prayers… Emmy would be proud.
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Yeah… like I said, so much to reflect on, so little space. I wouldn’t write this in Xanga. Too public, too uncontrolled. Too insincere. LoL–but if *someone* doesn’t grill me about this entry, I’ll be rather disappointed.