12 December 2004 Sunday

23

I felt for sure last night.. that once we said goodbye no one else will know these lonely dreams; no one else will know that part of me. I’m still driving away, and i’m sorry everyday. I won’t always love these selfish things; I won’t always live no.. stop this.
It was my turn to decide; I knew this was our time. No one else will have me like you do. No one else will have me — only you. You’ll stay alone forever if you wait for the right time. What are you hoping for? I’m here and now I’m ready, holding on tight… don’t give away the end — the one thing that stays mine.
Amazing still it seems.. I’ll be 23. I won’t always love what I’ll never have. I won’t live in my regrets.
You’ll stay alone forever if you wait for the right time — what are you hoping for? I’m here and now; I’m ready, holding on tight; don’t give away the end — the one thing that stays mine.
You’ll stay alone forever if you wait for the right time what are you hoping for? I’m here and now I’m ready holding on tight don’t give away the end the one thing that stays mine.
~Jimmy Eat World

Is that a fair journal entry on its own? Could be, I think. The song’s been cited before. But particular songs have a way of showing up on a random playlist when you’re ready to hear them; or at least you stop skipping through once you hear a right song.

I’m sorry to not be where I’d intended tonight. Genuinely. Circumstances, I suppose.

Moments like this remind me how nice anonymity can be. It’s a different culture: online journals.
Am I saying what I want known? Is my language understood by all? Or a particular few? Or none but myself? I’d like to think, I suppose, that I’m being cryptic enough to be useful to myself. Anyone can surmise. Only I can know.

Such ..full conversations lately. ‘Interesting’ was the alternate word, but seemed misleading in its connotation. True exchanges, yet false, or incomplete, in feeling.

The hand we’ve been dealt. The timing, the place, the people. The fate. But we make our own paths and our own relationships and our own destinies. It’s the one if pleasant, and the other if more convenient. My belief is that it’s both. We make and create and draw our own fate. And from there we spin wider our webs in our own shapes.

“We make the best of what we have.” Yes. of course we do. But differing interpretations of “best” and “what we have” make cooperation in that regard a slight more .. vulnerable to discussion.

I’m going to bed early tonight. It’s 7:20 now and it feels like about 9. And I feel around 11 already.

I got a nice jacket today. Early Christmas present. It’s down; soft and light. Will be squishable for traveling, and keep me warm on the Great Wall — if we get out there. I’ve never been out there. It would be about time. Do I get to use my Chinese name out there? Or is that only a personal/family artifact, and not really available for practical utility?

It seems my computer may not go out with me after all. If that’s so, I’ll surely be experiencing writer’s cramp in my hand, as I reacquaint it with the art of pen in paper notebook as the traditional form of journaling.
And sometimes the words just won’t come; maybe the thoughts aren’t complete; maybe there’s not enough softness and subtlety to say anything usefully. So there then, best to just stop.
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