smeared black ink
Sitting here listening to The Postal Service. Got a call tonight from Mom and Dad down in Phoenix, Grandpa is in the hospital: severely dehydrated and ill. I didn't realize how important my family was until today. Well, that's not true. It's one of those things you always know, but you are seldom reminded of. Sort of like the foundation of oppression being racism. Seldom are we reminded of it, but it's always there. I'm so ready to graduate right now... so ready to move on, help change the world. No matter what happens to me I never lose sight of that goal. I don't really know what I feel right now. I have this crazy emotional obsession 3500 miles away that I'll probably only see once or twice again in my life, but I still can't shake it. Life works in funny ways, mais non? I have become acutely aware of this paradox of feelings in my head and my heart. Not knowing where I'll be in six months, what I'll be doing, and still I'm okay with that. I always say that life is the thing that happens in the meantime. I guess I'm living. Comforting, but disconcerting. How can I be so comforted with my life when I know so many others are out there suffering in theirs? I'm not really sure if I do enough to fight the hate in the world, and everything that it brings along. Back to my other entry for today regarding identity. I don't know how people create discreet lists of their identities. I sit here and try to think of all mine and it seems mind-blowing. Beyond that, why limit yourself? It seems so ridiculous. When we limit ourselves, we not only limit our possibilities but the possibilities of others, too. It is not enough to speak the language of possibility, we must live it. It must be a holistic process that informs our minds, affects our hearts, and nourishes our souls. Maybe I'm just rambling and it makes no sense. But it feels good to get it all out. I haven't written in a while, until I was reminded that I have a blog by said person 3500 miles away. Thanks Zack. Maybe I'm needy, maybe I care, I'm not sure where that line is drawn. But I miss you. It might sound silly, but what the hell. What is life if you wait for the end without paying attention to the means? Paying attention to the meantime is what it's all about. So fuck it. Fuck it all. I haven't been able to stop thinking about that week back in October when you were here. I guess it's always good to have sweet memories, that way when you have nightmares you have something to comfort you.
posted by Alaska @ 11:25 PM
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