Jamie
I have thought about it for a long time, and I believe I will begin introducing myself as Jamie once more. This may not seem like such a grand event, but to me, it has much meaning. It is a symbol, just as wishing to be called James was once a symbol. I wanted to be called James because I wanted to be big more than anything. I wanted to have maturity, and the respect and acclaim (read: coolness) that I thought a more adult name would bring. Now, I believe my thoughts are in another direction, certainly not antithetical to the first, but perhaps skewed a few degrees.
My mother still calls me Jamie, sometimes, as do, well, a motley collection of people I have known throughout my life. My composition teacher, last semester, began calling me it, and I found I no longer minded it as I did when I was small. I still do not know why he chose to call me Jamie instead of James - I made no request to be called by my former nickname. I hope it has something to do with the overflowing joy I feel sometimes; Jamie just seems a more joyful name.
An older woman and her husband who live a few doors down from me call me Jamie, as well. I believe this is a relic of my mother's presence in the neighborhood where I live. I remember this to you because I do not wish to make my lack of rancor at my teacher's choice seem like something that had happened out of the blue. People have called me Jamie before him, and I did not mind it as I did when I was young. God, but let's explore this joy.
Tonight? Who can say why it is that tonight I feel this way. I will make a short list, and will try to not make it a list at all, since those are sometimes boring to read.
Lucidity was the best explanation, I thought, earlier, rubbing the smooth sole of one of my feet against the top of the other. Lying in bed, awoken for no particular reason, thinking softly to myself and rubbing my feet together. I remember moments like it happening when I was a child - it could have something to do with my choice to wear clothing to bed tonight. Ah, that's a good thought.
Or perhaps it had to do with the DXM HBr in the Nyquil-generic cough syrup I had taken before bed, or the ensuing lack of constant noseflow that I attribute to another ingredient in that kirschwasser. Comparing what is possibly just a normal twenty year-old state now with my earlier elephantine blasts into tissues could lead me to enjoy all the things I have taken for granted before this moment, such as the ability to breathe deeply, and through my nose, of all things! Will wonders never cease?
Sweet Jamie, reading this later, please try to remember what you have done today - you finished an assignment when you really wanted to play a game instead, you took a walk in the bright sunlight of one o'clock when it woke you through your window, and you drank some cough syrup. Mmm... cough syrup.
Teehee.
My mother still calls me Jamie, sometimes, as do, well, a motley collection of people I have known throughout my life. My composition teacher, last semester, began calling me it, and I found I no longer minded it as I did when I was small. I still do not know why he chose to call me Jamie instead of James - I made no request to be called by my former nickname. I hope it has something to do with the overflowing joy I feel sometimes; Jamie just seems a more joyful name.
An older woman and her husband who live a few doors down from me call me Jamie, as well. I believe this is a relic of my mother's presence in the neighborhood where I live. I remember this to you because I do not wish to make my lack of rancor at my teacher's choice seem like something that had happened out of the blue. People have called me Jamie before him, and I did not mind it as I did when I was young. God, but let's explore this joy.
Tonight? Who can say why it is that tonight I feel this way. I will make a short list, and will try to not make it a list at all, since those are sometimes boring to read.
Lucidity was the best explanation, I thought, earlier, rubbing the smooth sole of one of my feet against the top of the other. Lying in bed, awoken for no particular reason, thinking softly to myself and rubbing my feet together. I remember moments like it happening when I was a child - it could have something to do with my choice to wear clothing to bed tonight. Ah, that's a good thought.
Or perhaps it had to do with the DXM HBr in the Nyquil-generic cough syrup I had taken before bed, or the ensuing lack of constant noseflow that I attribute to another ingredient in that kirschwasser. Comparing what is possibly just a normal twenty year-old state now with my earlier elephantine blasts into tissues could lead me to enjoy all the things I have taken for granted before this moment, such as the ability to breathe deeply, and through my nose, of all things! Will wonders never cease?
Sweet Jamie, reading this later, please try to remember what you have done today - you finished an assignment when you really wanted to play a game instead, you took a walk in the bright sunlight of one o'clock when it woke you through your window, and you drank some cough syrup. Mmm... cough syrup.
Teehee.