Return of the Journals

EEK! Deadlines! I was suppossed to have my Journals article done for Swanky Gruel oh....friday? Instead I've chosen to halfheartedly clean my room and catch up on BSG and Scrubs this weekend. And shop!

So time to backtrack a little bit, to my 'deep thinking and totally depressed' phase. I saved this one because, well, I'm very close to it. It's the Mucha 'Zodiac' journal my parents gave me for christmas in 2000, and I love it. Wanna see a picture?

I guess it could have been a mid-twenties thing, or maybe because I was married to a man who didn't love me...needless to say, there is some *seriously* weird shit in here. For example, my little bon mot on garbage. Ironic now considering my line of work.

"There is a drip and dribble in the scorching asphalt outside, now smoky after the rain. Those tiny rivers and garbage vessels float away down the drains, under the surface. And that is the secret, to see the life that lies beneath the surface, ready and waiting to take our place. And then will We be those garbage vessels? Will we float down the tiny streams? Down the drain? Go under the surface, waiting until the day we come back into the sun?"

I read a few pages more and concluded I was thinking about myself as a Morlock, because I was reading 'The Time Machine' at the time.

Sometimes you look back and are totally surprised that there are things about you that haven't changed all that much, for instance, I bring up this entry...

"Little bits of stories, mixed with little bits of truth. And who ever can tell the difference wins. I never finish my journals. I figured that one day my kids or more likely nieces/nephews would end up with all of these. if I never have kids, I'll give them to Claire. Whoever ends up with all of this stuff will discover a few things: 1 - That I'm a flighty bitch and 2 - that my only identities are the ones superimposed over me. I feel like an almost-clean slate, maybe a little dusty. But don't get me wrong, I'm almost 25, it dosen't bother me. I have a few basics that make me...me.
I am basically always happy."

and again...I must have had some kickin' PMS when i wrote...

"Ever hear the expression 'total crap'? My writing = total crap"

Insecurity isn't sexy in anybody. Especially me. This was all a very dark time in my life. Where I was stuck, tied to the train tracks with the train coming all the closer. What I never realized is that I had a knife in my hands the whole time, It was up to me to cut my own bonds. And when I did, my mood, and the mood of this journal, changed perceptibly. My life is far from perfect right now, but if you look past the inability to get ahead financially, the unfinished degree, and the ever-persistant doubt, you'll see that I am finally happy. This time in my life has held the most challenges, but as Locke says "it's the struggle that makes us stronger".

So to wrap up, the almost-last page of this journal (because it's true, I never do finish them), more bad poetry.

This one is called "L'orange" ::*ahem*::


It's in the thinnest morning light
that I see you standing in the kitchen
peeling an orange
waiting for winter's first thaw

We adhere to our careful canticle
skirting around each other
each of us reluctant
to breach this stasis

but today there is a smallish peace
and I feel you
softening in my arms
your mouth tastes like oranges.


Eeek!