the examination of treasures
I've just spend the last hour reading my old livejournal posts, and I have such an affection for the young, raw, unknowing Jess. My internal sense of self has stayed pretty steady throughout my life, so it's only now seeing my past musings (in love, out of love, OH MY GOSH A BUNNY) that I realize how much I've ripened.
Lots of things swirling in my head tonight. I wonder if last weekend I overstepped the boundaries of safe and sane. Still, disruption and disturbance inevitably lead to self-examination and (hopefully) newly revealed truths, so I have no regrets. I still shudder, however, thinking about it (horror? excitement? something more unsettling?).
The best part of my day is undoubtedly my nightly walk from the 86th street station to my apartment on 96th. Completely unnecessary, pointless expenditure of energy, and yet without those twenty minutes of anonymous wandering I would feel lost. The artificial day created by millions of lit windows, the crush of blackwhiteyellowpoorrich folk..It's during that time that I feel the day stream off me like smoke, the dullness vanishes from my eyes and I rejoice anew to be in my own skin.
I wish that when I had been close to people, whether in romance or friendship or something in-between, I had better appreciated their beauty. Now looking over long-discarded poems, notes, old pictures and songs, I am both grateful that I have had such wonders in my life and grief that I did not fully appreciate their radiance.
I feel now a bit like a candle, glowing and burning.
Lots of things swirling in my head tonight. I wonder if last weekend I overstepped the boundaries of safe and sane. Still, disruption and disturbance inevitably lead to self-examination and (hopefully) newly revealed truths, so I have no regrets. I still shudder, however, thinking about it (horror? excitement? something more unsettling?).
The best part of my day is undoubtedly my nightly walk from the 86th street station to my apartment on 96th. Completely unnecessary, pointless expenditure of energy, and yet without those twenty minutes of anonymous wandering I would feel lost. The artificial day created by millions of lit windows, the crush of blackwhiteyellowpoorrich folk..It's during that time that I feel the day stream off me like smoke, the dullness vanishes from my eyes and I rejoice anew to be in my own skin.
I wish that when I had been close to people, whether in romance or friendship or something in-between, I had better appreciated their beauty. Now looking over long-discarded poems, notes, old pictures and songs, I am both grateful that I have had such wonders in my life and grief that I did not fully appreciate their radiance.
I feel now a bit like a candle, glowing and burning.