kiss the way we were goodbye
why is it that packing is always so much easier than unpacking?
it just seems so unfair. shouldn't destroying something you've spent so much time on be just as hard as creating it?
it seems so simple to just end things i don't know where we find the will to begin. but we do anyways don't we? over and over and over again. too bad it doesn't get any easier.
so i'm all packed and ready to move back to irvine. sure i'm excited about the apartment. but just the thought of turning that empty space into my home makes me want to spend the entire year living out of boxes. i mean what's the point right? i'm going to have to pack up and leave again once the year is over.
maybe it's the knowledge that this isn't the last time you'll have to take those first steps that makes it so hard to get yourself up off the ground and start your journey.
well as i was dreading the thought of unpacking i decided to start the cleaning process. i mean i'd have to clean up eventually so might as well do it now while i was still feeling productive right? well as i was throwing away months and months worth of sweat and blood i came across a story i began when i was a senior. you know. one of those stories that you begin but never get around to continue. it's always hard to pick something up again and finish what you started.
although i was expecting a crappy excuse of what i had thought then. no doubt. to be worthy. i was surprised by my own writing. it was decent. more than decent. kinda entertaining. and sometimes the words i used made me think i wrote that? did i actually use that word in that phrase? lol i know what you're thinking. is anna actually praising herself? how lame is that? but the truth is i've always considered my vocabulary to be well.... simple. so when i go back to read old essays. blogs. stories.... it always surprises me that my wording isn't just plain old crap. you know?
anyways.... so there i was reading that story and it made me wonder what's going to happen next? will he see the girl again? what happened in that one missing page? where it is i cannot fathom. i mean i never throw anything away.... under the bed? probable. and it hit me that i did not remember where i had intended the story to go. i have no doubt in my mind that i'd already figured out the ending of the damned thing and some of the plot as well. i have some sort of disease in which i only plan the beginning and end before hand. so basically after writing the intro i draw a blank and quit. which really isn't that fair for the ending now that i think about it. but i just couldn't remember where this thing was headed.
and then i had this uncontrollable urge to continue the story. and write that one missing page. i remember what happened. he runs into the girl. she's working at the amusement park. he treats her to funnel cake to make up for spilling well funnel cake on her. i just wish i had the exact words i'd used back then. i feel like forgetting my preplanned ending and parts of the plot has somehow given this story a new life. i'm sure that whatever i was planning then cannot compare to what i am planning now. but the words... i'm afraid i just don't have them anymore. i'm afraid they've left me bit by bit since highschool and that i am still losing my ability to write as i type these words.
lately i've been feeling that my rants just aren't what they used to be. it feels like im trying to imitate what i was. like i'm nothing but a shadow now. the feelings aren't as intense and the words can't convey my thoughts the way they did back then. back when my emotions just spilled onto the page.
maybe i can only express myself when i'm sad and angry. so being happy does have it's draw backs. lol
so sorry my friends for subjecting you to my horrible writing. but i'm hoping to improve by typing my thoughts out more regularly.
i swear this is the longest period of time i've kept something close to a journal.
on another note. i've decided on the official summer 2008 song. backstreetboys- just want you to know
not that much of a stretch from 2007's pop star by ken hirai.
both make me want to sing out loud with the volume turned up to the max and the windows down. make me forget about the world. ignore it.
but the two are completely different. marking two summers that don't even come close to resembling one another.
and that makes me kinda sad.
it just seems so unfair. shouldn't destroying something you've spent so much time on be just as hard as creating it?
it seems so simple to just end things i don't know where we find the will to begin. but we do anyways don't we? over and over and over again. too bad it doesn't get any easier.
so i'm all packed and ready to move back to irvine. sure i'm excited about the apartment. but just the thought of turning that empty space into my home makes me want to spend the entire year living out of boxes. i mean what's the point right? i'm going to have to pack up and leave again once the year is over.
maybe it's the knowledge that this isn't the last time you'll have to take those first steps that makes it so hard to get yourself up off the ground and start your journey.
well as i was dreading the thought of unpacking i decided to start the cleaning process. i mean i'd have to clean up eventually so might as well do it now while i was still feeling productive right? well as i was throwing away months and months worth of sweat and blood i came across a story i began when i was a senior. you know. one of those stories that you begin but never get around to continue. it's always hard to pick something up again and finish what you started.
although i was expecting a crappy excuse of what i had thought then. no doubt. to be worthy. i was surprised by my own writing. it was decent. more than decent. kinda entertaining. and sometimes the words i used made me think i wrote that? did i actually use that word in that phrase? lol i know what you're thinking. is anna actually praising herself? how lame is that? but the truth is i've always considered my vocabulary to be well.... simple. so when i go back to read old essays. blogs. stories.... it always surprises me that my wording isn't just plain old crap. you know?
anyways.... so there i was reading that story and it made me wonder what's going to happen next? will he see the girl again? what happened in that one missing page? where it is i cannot fathom. i mean i never throw anything away.... under the bed? probable. and it hit me that i did not remember where i had intended the story to go. i have no doubt in my mind that i'd already figured out the ending of the damned thing and some of the plot as well. i have some sort of disease in which i only plan the beginning and end before hand. so basically after writing the intro i draw a blank and quit. which really isn't that fair for the ending now that i think about it. but i just couldn't remember where this thing was headed.
and then i had this uncontrollable urge to continue the story. and write that one missing page. i remember what happened. he runs into the girl. she's working at the amusement park. he treats her to funnel cake to make up for spilling well funnel cake on her. i just wish i had the exact words i'd used back then. i feel like forgetting my preplanned ending and parts of the plot has somehow given this story a new life. i'm sure that whatever i was planning then cannot compare to what i am planning now. but the words... i'm afraid i just don't have them anymore. i'm afraid they've left me bit by bit since highschool and that i am still losing my ability to write as i type these words.
lately i've been feeling that my rants just aren't what they used to be. it feels like im trying to imitate what i was. like i'm nothing but a shadow now. the feelings aren't as intense and the words can't convey my thoughts the way they did back then. back when my emotions just spilled onto the page.
maybe i can only express myself when i'm sad and angry. so being happy does have it's draw backs. lol
so sorry my friends for subjecting you to my horrible writing. but i'm hoping to improve by typing my thoughts out more regularly.
i swear this is the longest period of time i've kept something close to a journal.
on another note. i've decided on the official summer 2008 song. backstreetboys- just want you to know
not that much of a stretch from 2007's pop star by ken hirai.
both make me want to sing out loud with the volume turned up to the max and the windows down. make me forget about the world. ignore it.
but the two are completely different. marking two summers that don't even come close to resembling one another.
and that makes me kinda sad.