i'm youth, i'm joy, i'm the little bird that's broken out of its egg!
i read violet and claire and then i read peter pan, and i realized that claire really isn't like tinker bell at all, not one bit. of course she's quite faerie-girl and all but she has none of tinker bell's personality to earn her such a nickname. she's not even like the overcommercialized disneyfied tink, sassy and pouty. she's too good-natured to be tink.
speaking of peter pan. i started it last night and finished it today during school with just a bit left when i got home. i couldn't stop reading. all my life i've loved peter pan but never really got around to reading it, and i'm so glad mrs loew's class gave me a kick in the rear to get it read at last. but my heart got all squeezed at the end and i had to put it down very fast as soon as i was done and go do something else and not let myself drift around and think because if i had i would have burst into tears (oh what a crybaby) over the ending. i think i always will no matter how many times i read it - because in my perfect world, in my own fantasy, the lost boys don't forget and john and michael don't forget and peter doesn't forget quite so much (i would say he doesn't forget either, but he has to, he's peter pan). and wendy grows up of course, but she doesn't forget and even though she grows up she doesn't grow up.
i wish i could leave my window wide open always so maybe peter pan could come and take me away to neverland so i could tell stories to him and the lost boys who are maybe there now, but he would never come and even if he did he'd never take me. i'm too old, too big, and even if i told him i still believed in neverland and could be gay and innocent and heartless if that was what it took, he wouldn't believe me.
i should so like to live in a house of leaves.
also, a tiny little mole got into our house somehow. maureen and i trapped him under a box and set him free outside. he gave me quite a start.
speaking of peter pan. i started it last night and finished it today during school with just a bit left when i got home. i couldn't stop reading. all my life i've loved peter pan but never really got around to reading it, and i'm so glad mrs loew's class gave me a kick in the rear to get it read at last. but my heart got all squeezed at the end and i had to put it down very fast as soon as i was done and go do something else and not let myself drift around and think because if i had i would have burst into tears (oh what a crybaby) over the ending. i think i always will no matter how many times i read it - because in my perfect world, in my own fantasy, the lost boys don't forget and john and michael don't forget and peter doesn't forget quite so much (i would say he doesn't forget either, but he has to, he's peter pan). and wendy grows up of course, but she doesn't forget and even though she grows up she doesn't grow up.
i wish i could leave my window wide open always so maybe peter pan could come and take me away to neverland so i could tell stories to him and the lost boys who are maybe there now, but he would never come and even if he did he'd never take me. i'm too old, too big, and even if i told him i still believed in neverland and could be gay and innocent and heartless if that was what it took, he wouldn't believe me.
i should so like to live in a house of leaves.
also, a tiny little mole got into our house somehow. maureen and i trapped him under a box and set him free outside. he gave me quite a start.