Sweet Disillusionment...Nectar of our Youth
I'm beginning to realize that everything will be OK. My grades are shitty, I feel shitty, the whole world is shitty...and yet it will all be OK. I'm beginning to resolve things. Resolution is good...
Plan the work...work the plan...I need to start doing that again. Apply it to everything in life. Perhaps I've just been impatient...No! That's all wrong. What am I saying??? That's just setting myself up for more disillusionment. I can't plan things. It's pointless. Especially now. Life is unpredictable. I just need to admit defeat...that I have no control. It was all just an illusion...
I dunno...I supposed I can apply that motto to school at least...We'll see...I need to buckle down. I realize I actually do have a lot to do. That will help. Staying busy helps.
Sadly, the best part of my day came when Senora admitted that my Spanish poem was amazing. I suppose despondency does nurture artistic talents...I like what she gives us to read. Nobody hate me for saying that...
I forgive people too easily. I really do. I should be angry with Phil, but I see too much of myself reflected in him to be angry...We're more similar than he knows...We're both turtles in our shells. Or at least that's my impression. You can never really fundamentally know anyone...least of all yourself. At any rate, I'm getting the hell back into my shell...
Perhaps I need to focus on the good things in life. Not everything is crappy. I have those to help me through hard times. What would have done without Scott these past four years? I'm completely dependent on him--for emotional support, for "welfare," for everything. I need to do something nice for him. Maya's been good to me, too, all in all. We have good times together. We share that same ironic, bitter, self-deprecatory sense of humor. Senior year has trampled us both. Also, I wouldn't know any Beatles songs if not for her. And I do feel so much better driving too fast in my car with the windows down, singing along to the Beatles and almost getting into accidents...
It's a nice day out. Maybe I'll go for a drive now. Or walk my dog in the forest. More likely I'll just go to sleep...or rent a depressing foreign film. Soap operas are another good option. Then I can feel better about my own life...
Has anyone heard the song "Dangling Conversation" by Simon and Garfunkel? I'm sad because I lost my CD and I want to listen to that song so bad...Maya, help me out here...
It's a still life water color,
Of a now late afternoon,
As the sun shines through the curtained lace
And shadows wash the room.
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference,
Like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
The borders of our lives.
And you read your Emily Dickinson,
And I my Robert Frost,
And we note our place with bookmarkers
That measure what we've lost.
Like a poem poorly written
We are verses out of rhythm,
Couplets out of rhyme,
In syncopated time
Lost in the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
Are the borders of our lives.
Yes, we speak of things that matter,
With words that must be said,
"Can analysis be worthwhile?"
"Is the theater really dead?"
And how the room is softly faded
And I only kiss your shadow,
I cannot feel your hand,
You're a stranger now unto me
Lost in the dangling conversation.
And the superficial sighs,
In the borders of our lives.
Plan the work...work the plan...I need to start doing that again. Apply it to everything in life. Perhaps I've just been impatient...No! That's all wrong. What am I saying??? That's just setting myself up for more disillusionment. I can't plan things. It's pointless. Especially now. Life is unpredictable. I just need to admit defeat...that I have no control. It was all just an illusion...
I dunno...I supposed I can apply that motto to school at least...We'll see...I need to buckle down. I realize I actually do have a lot to do. That will help. Staying busy helps.
Sadly, the best part of my day came when Senora admitted that my Spanish poem was amazing. I suppose despondency does nurture artistic talents...I like what she gives us to read. Nobody hate me for saying that...
I forgive people too easily. I really do. I should be angry with Phil, but I see too much of myself reflected in him to be angry...We're more similar than he knows...We're both turtles in our shells. Or at least that's my impression. You can never really fundamentally know anyone...least of all yourself. At any rate, I'm getting the hell back into my shell...
Perhaps I need to focus on the good things in life. Not everything is crappy. I have those to help me through hard times. What would have done without Scott these past four years? I'm completely dependent on him--for emotional support, for "welfare," for everything. I need to do something nice for him. Maya's been good to me, too, all in all. We have good times together. We share that same ironic, bitter, self-deprecatory sense of humor. Senior year has trampled us both. Also, I wouldn't know any Beatles songs if not for her. And I do feel so much better driving too fast in my car with the windows down, singing along to the Beatles and almost getting into accidents...
It's a nice day out. Maybe I'll go for a drive now. Or walk my dog in the forest. More likely I'll just go to sleep...or rent a depressing foreign film. Soap operas are another good option. Then I can feel better about my own life...
Has anyone heard the song "Dangling Conversation" by Simon and Garfunkel? I'm sad because I lost my CD and I want to listen to that song so bad...Maya, help me out here...
It's a still life water color,
Of a now late afternoon,
As the sun shines through the curtained lace
And shadows wash the room.
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference,
Like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
The borders of our lives.
And you read your Emily Dickinson,
And I my Robert Frost,
And we note our place with bookmarkers
That measure what we've lost.
Like a poem poorly written
We are verses out of rhythm,
Couplets out of rhyme,
In syncopated time
Lost in the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
Are the borders of our lives.
Yes, we speak of things that matter,
With words that must be said,
"Can analysis be worthwhile?"
"Is the theater really dead?"
And how the room is softly faded
And I only kiss your shadow,
I cannot feel your hand,
You're a stranger now unto me
Lost in the dangling conversation.
And the superficial sighs,
In the borders of our lives.