okay, i'm cleaning my room (which mind you, in no way indicates that my room will be cleaner when i'm done) and i found an old letter that i wrote myself my senior year of highschool. it was an assignment in my AP English class, and I'm sure i thought it terribly stupid at the time. I still think its kind of a stupid assignment, or at least much too cliche to be cool. and besides, she sent them to us much too soon, because i think it must have been only a year, it was in with stuff in the time period from my acceptance to UofM and etc. anyway, i'm just terribly impressed with 17 year old clarity and etc. 27 May 1999 Yeah. So. Dear me, or something.
Just like keeping a journal. except this is a one shot deal. Older and wiser. Thats all that happens anymore. Older. Wiser. Older older older. I'm aging faster than my body can keep up with. How'll things pan out? Tune in for our next episode: Bethany goes to college, or some terrible pun. Come on - do you get? do ya? do ya? Oh shut up. its been a long year. I'm looking forward to some rest. I don't want to look for a job. I'm glad "things" have come to some sort of resolution for now. Resolution from me being solely in charge of the way things go. My eyes are sore. Now I can sit back and let things take their own course through my interactions, not my decree. Will JOhn still be in my life? In what capacity? Will living in the apartment be terrible, or fun? Will Bethany escape from the RR tracks in time? Will Boris & Natasha's evil plan to end the world come to fruition? (Now the tag, Bethany) Stay tuned for our next episode... blah blah blah. Pirateship.org? Will Matt ever be happy. will I be an artiste... <--shut up idiot. Ramona A Stone.. I am with name... What will it take to make me smile? What will it take to make me happy? The same things. You are you dear. I know that, but 50 is older than 40, time passes, and the only way to measure the passage of time is through changes. The minute or extreme differences. You measure seconds in intake of breath constriction of heart twitch of eye. Minutes in thoughts, ideas. hours in steps, movement, the tree sways, the ant made it all the way across the ceiling. Days in smells baking bread, spring flower, cat fur. Weeks become more subtle, easier to miss, measured in blurs, the blurring of other senses, the forgotten individual breaths, the motion blurs to a stop, the thoughts blurred and forgotten into one nebulous idea. the smells become emotion on the back of your brain. longer intervals of time can only be measured in sensation memories. the feeling in the pit of your stomach that the smell of bread brings up. te tickle on the back of your neck when you see an ant. The stretchy feeling in your feet when you remember to breathe, consciously intake breath, make your lungs hold it, feel it, use it.
Time to go. Love things, and people.
Love Bethany
sound familiar? Its unnerving to feel like there is so much space between now and then, and yet see such little difference in me. does this mean that i am and have been a very strong solid person? is that a thing to strive for? does this mean i'm in a rut? is there something over the horizon that i'm missing? am i blinded by my own eyes? hm. all that aside i'm impressed (but honestly not surprised) by myself. i think i will go look up the rest of my old journals and see how irritating they are.. after i finish cleaning. really. |