Time.
The blank page is a plane
It contours to the mind’s wildest dreams
From the wickedest fiends to the lovliest maidens
Barren desert to frosted blight
Where imagination runs wild and anything is possible.
~Nichole Root
I put that at the start of every one of my journals. Every new virgin journal that I buy is christened with that poem at the top of its first page. It’s been that way ever since I first read that poem, years and years ago when I still lived in Utah. When I still spent every waking moment with Nichole Root.
See, boys come and go. Boys are on my mind right now; I wish they weren’t, because CERTAIN boys are just an albatross around my neck. But true friends never leave. They’re always there
Nichole has been trying to call me for weeks. Why haven’t I called her back? Because I don’t think I have sufficient time to give her as long of a conversation as she deserves? Because I’m tired of being disappointed by the shortness of our conversations and how we never seem to be able to call each other back? And what about Bethany? I haven’t seen her in ages and ages. Hell, I haven’t CALLED her in ages. What is WRONG with me? These are my two best friends, the people who know me better than I know myself…right? Why is it that I don’t let myself get close to anyone anymore?
Even when Andrew hugged me…I mean, Andrew is a really good friend of mine and nothing more (heaven knows he has enough problems with women without ME further complicating things), but still, when he hugged me I turned stiff as marble. As if I was afraid of the touch. Am I afraid?
I think I am. I am afraid. But why? I recognize and acknowledge the fact that I’ve become a much more distant person since I moved away from Utah. I don’t like it, but I acknowledge it. Why, then, can’t I seem to overcome it? I’m distant in almost every way, and my parents have been noticing it, too. My dad points out how I always “hide” in my room on my computer, and Maman always gives me the “appraising/reprimanding” look whenever she tells me to “join the family.” They’re right. I am a recluse. What in seven hells could possibly possess me to want to stay away from my own family? I love them to death and WANT to spend time with them. I want to spend time with them…don’t I?
Is it just that I’m growing up? Is it just that I’m branching out, trying to find my independence, my identity, and a foothold in the big blue world that is mine and my own? Or am I truly becoming painfully introverted like my brother? I’ve always been an extrovert; I’ve always thrived off the company and attention of other people. Always. Since I was a baby always. So what’s changing now? It can’t be my personality…I mean for goodness’ sake, a person is a person and one doesn’t change THAT MUCH just because of a little thing like getting older. My father said that deep inside me, that cheery, cheeky little girl is still there…the one that, on the first day of preschool, broke the ice with all the nervous young parents by calling out, “Hi! My name is Kelsey, and this is my friend Daddy!”
So what happened to her? What happened to the clever, confident, grinning me? Not the bouncy, hyper me, because that has been a source of embarrassment for me for many years…the fact that I was never able to control myself as a kid, and sometimes still have a problem curbing my enthusiasm.
Or maybe that’s it. Have I suppressed my own inner child? Have I become so scared of reliving the horrors of the playground that I’ve locked that confident, pink-faced, strawberry-headed self into the far reaches of my mind?
What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve always loved that aspect of myself more than I was ashamed of it. I always reveled in my hyperness because it made me unique. It made me different from the rest of the sheep. It made me stand out. It’s only in recent years that I’ve starting putting it in check. Why? Because that’s a necessary thing for growing up? Because I can’t be exuberant and adult-like at the same time? I will not hold to that. I will not accept that. My cousin Anthony said that adulthood is a state of mind: that you don’t lose who you are or what you are because you get older. That you don’t have to “act older” just because you are. And even though my dad told me to tone down the manic laughter, even though I’ve been told over and over to stop being so hyper all the damn time (which I’m not anymore, I’m not! I’m calm and lethargic and a fucking BUMP on a log and I HATE how little emotion I’m capable of anymore!) for the longest time, all through my childhood, Daddy was never “grown-up.” He was as big of a kid as my brother and I, and I LOVED IT. But now…now…now he keeps saying he’s getting old, and his beard keeps getting grayer and grayer, and his hair thinner and thinner…but I can handle those. What I can’t handle are the crow’s feet, or how he doesn’t smile as much as he used to or laugh as loud as he used to. How he grunts when he gets up from the chair or squints when he looks at the computer screen. And it makes me want to cry every time.
Maybe Bethany was right. Maybe change is the enemy of us all; our long-time, hated enemy. But maybe it’s not change. Maybe it’s time.
It’s time.
Time for me to finally practice what I preach and be the driver in my own life.
Things to do:
-Take driver's test with Andrew to FINALLY get liscence (Tuesday morning)
-Call Bethany (Tuesday afternoon)
-Call Nichole (Tuesday night)
-Call Stephanie P. (Wednesday morning)
-Call my mother (Thursday night)
-Take advantage of the fact that my older brother is staying with us for a week and spend every waking moment with him
-Get up early every day
-Go to bed early every day
-Memorize new school/work schedule
-Figure out if/how I can take a road trip/visit someone in the month I have left before the semester starts
-Visit my cousins! Aaron, Anthony/Laurie/Jessica, Shane and Dani
-Pray that I don't get tied up in a relationship like the one I had with Brandon EVER. AGAIN.
*bows*