Sunday, December 7

The Reminiscings of Me

Original Written Date: Feb 5th, 2008

Outside the February 5 o'clock sunset slowly disappears behind the row of trees across the street, as the thirteen year old inside of me bobs her feet to the spice girls. I remember the time when I was in the car with my father and he told me that just like his childhood bands, the spice girls would eventually go out of style no matter how wonderful they seemed to be. Naturally, I didn't believe him. Now here I am, four months before my 18th birthday pulling out that old CD for sheer enjoyment. It doesn't matter how awful something may be, if it reminds you of your childhood, you somehow always feel this unusual connection with it. This is the very reason why almost eighteen year olds do some of the things that they do. This is also the reason why there is a very big difference between owning a stuffed animal as a child and owning a "teddy bear." Sure having a collection of cute and cuddly stuffed animals that you sleep with, arranged just so on your bed is a pastime some people hold onto, even in their teen years. But owning a teddy bear, or other significant animal for your entire life is so different. It is the thing that you held when you felt the troubles of age three. It is the Kleenex you used to dry your tears after you scraped your elbow in a dramatic bike crash at age 9. It is the comforting memories of better times when you first overhear your parents talking about divorce at age 11. Without that precious bear, you would have never made it through your first heartbreak. and now, it has become something so much more than just a stuffed animal. Whether you take it with you everywhere you sleep, or hold it close to you when your world falls apart, it has become a part of you, something that you just couldn't imagine life without, because you have never had to experience life without it. Like an old spice girls CD, it connects you to your past, regardless of what is coming in the future.

You can feel the cold from outside with the curtains open, especially in February.

Wednesday, December 3

The View From My Window

The angle of the moon through my window has created the illusion that there are six of them. Its distracting me from the long night of papers I have ahead of me, or so I like to think, but I know that there is something else. Something inside of me that wont allow me to just crack down and get to work. My mind is distracted and I don't have the ability to control my thoughts and refocus them onto pentateuch. It seems as if all hope is lost, I ironically tell myself only moments before my eyes scan the floor and come across the book: how to find hope when all hope is lost, lying on the floor from my research for my english paper. People who resort to books to solve their problems really have no hope. I put my hood on for comfort, there is something very comforting about a hood. Every time I feel awkward, uneasy, or like I don't know what to do with myself, up goes the hood. Everybody has a different group of things that are their 'comfort' things. For example some people need a good book and a fireplace, others a tub of ice cream and a sappy movie. Me, when I feel that overwhelming need for comfort, I resort to my hood. also a great big cup of coffee from home, just like mom makes it, a really good pair of socks, and music that makes my insides hurt. Only one of which is available to me right now, and one of which should not be played if I intend to get my three papers done.

 I guess I will just look out the window at the six moons and pray for this night to be over.