(no subject)
i've always envied the movie flashback; my mind just doesn't work like that. sometimes i think i've spent so much of my life recording details because so little really stays with me. when i reflect, i remember loose outlines of situations, people, places, all heavily shaded by retrospective emotion. i place little faith in my ability to accurately remember how or even what, and it's the one thing that i continually stuggle with in the constant fight for significance.
a song will shuffle on my ipod and it will take me ten seconds to place it, to justify why i paused when i heard the faintly familiar chords. sometimes i have trouble believing that the past happened - that i was that connected to people i never talk to anymore, that i was someone capable of things i now find baffling. then i'll start to wonder what will eventually happen that i have no way of now knowing and yet again shatter my fragile, temporal sense of who i am.
yesterday, as we waited in the hallway to take team pictures, we all inched out to incorporate the whole team in a circle. i smiled invitingly at the players who took the longest to join in. it's hard for me to define the specific attachment i feel to them - it varies by player the way that feelings will always vary from person to person, but the overwhelming sentiment is one of protection. i find it hard to force them to stop talking sometimes because the animated expressions that accompany the banter remind me so much of me at sixteen, desperately trying to get reassurance that these things i think and do are indeed normal. the topics vary, from which boys are to cutest, to the pitfalls of high school jobs, to the acceptability of stealing the kids dinner while babysitting. i can still relate to them on every level, most embarrassingly on the topic of high school boys, who i still feel a forlorn affection for just by the inbetween nature of their stature and composition of their faces - still retaining boyish qualities with the faintest hints of facial hair and future hardening.
lately, i'm content to be idle, to stay snuggled under covers fifteen minutes longer and just listen to the music play. i'm learning to take life slow, though i still often fail to be able to watch a movie without simultaneously reading a magazine or fastly falling asleep. i'm more tired in the evenings, but i'm more alive during the days, more likely to pick up a complaining seven year old and tickle him until he gives in, more likely to try a new, challenging class at the gym, more likely to smile for no reason as i take long, strong strides down sidestreets.
so much of life is a process that it makes the fickle promise of tomorrow even more necessary. i'm hopeful that i'll get past this, but desperate to be given all the time it will take, to be able to have this year last until i'm ready to place this present in the past, to let it become a blurry and incomplete flashback, to move on and silently mourn the things i've loved in spite of so much sadness and indifference.
a song will shuffle on my ipod and it will take me ten seconds to place it, to justify why i paused when i heard the faintly familiar chords. sometimes i have trouble believing that the past happened - that i was that connected to people i never talk to anymore, that i was someone capable of things i now find baffling. then i'll start to wonder what will eventually happen that i have no way of now knowing and yet again shatter my fragile, temporal sense of who i am.
yesterday, as we waited in the hallway to take team pictures, we all inched out to incorporate the whole team in a circle. i smiled invitingly at the players who took the longest to join in. it's hard for me to define the specific attachment i feel to them - it varies by player the way that feelings will always vary from person to person, but the overwhelming sentiment is one of protection. i find it hard to force them to stop talking sometimes because the animated expressions that accompany the banter remind me so much of me at sixteen, desperately trying to get reassurance that these things i think and do are indeed normal. the topics vary, from which boys are to cutest, to the pitfalls of high school jobs, to the acceptability of stealing the kids dinner while babysitting. i can still relate to them on every level, most embarrassingly on the topic of high school boys, who i still feel a forlorn affection for just by the inbetween nature of their stature and composition of their faces - still retaining boyish qualities with the faintest hints of facial hair and future hardening.
lately, i'm content to be idle, to stay snuggled under covers fifteen minutes longer and just listen to the music play. i'm learning to take life slow, though i still often fail to be able to watch a movie without simultaneously reading a magazine or fastly falling asleep. i'm more tired in the evenings, but i'm more alive during the days, more likely to pick up a complaining seven year old and tickle him until he gives in, more likely to try a new, challenging class at the gym, more likely to smile for no reason as i take long, strong strides down sidestreets.
so much of life is a process that it makes the fickle promise of tomorrow even more necessary. i'm hopeful that i'll get past this, but desperate to be given all the time it will take, to be able to have this year last until i'm ready to place this present in the past, to let it become a blurry and incomplete flashback, to move on and silently mourn the things i've loved in spite of so much sadness and indifference.