Saturday, December 21, 2002
There is a cat. His name is Roberto Tomás. He isn't mine. I named him. I hope it stays that way. I have a habit of collecting cats.I just started redecorating the living room. I plan to do the whole house and [really] clean my room. This will probably take up my whole vacation. I am not against that. CChristmas is when I do my spring cleaning.
Who wants to help? It'll be fun!
When the glamour [of one's marriage] wears off, or merely works a bit thin, they think they have made a mistake, and that the real soul-mate is still to find. The real soul-mate too often proves to be the next sexually attractive person that comes along. Someone whom they might indeed very profitably have married, if only - . Hence divorce, to provide the 'if only'. And of course they are as a rule quite right: they did make a mistake. Only a very wise man at the end of his life could make a sound judgement concerning whom, amongst the total possible chances, he ought most profitably to have married! Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might have found more suitable mates. But the 'real soul-mate' is the one you are actually married to. You really do very little choosing: life and circumstances do most of it (though if there is a God these must be His instruments, or His appearances). It is notorious that in fact happy marriages are more common where the 'choosing' by the young persons is even more limited, by parental or family authority, as long as there is a social ethic of plain unromantic responsibility and conjugal fidelity. But even in countries where the romantic tradition has so far affected social arrangements as to make people believe that the choosing of a mate is solely the concern of the young, only the rarest good fortune brings together the man and woman who are really as it were 'destined' for one another, and capable of a very great and splendid love. The idea still dazzles us, catches us by the throat: poems and stories in multitudes have been written on the theme, more, probably, than the total of such loves in real life (yet the greatest of these tales do not tell of the happy marriage of such great lovers, but of their tragic separation; as if even in this sphere the truly great and splendid in this fallen world is more nearly achieved by 'failure' and suffering). In such great inevitable love, often love at first sight, we catch a vision, I suppose, of marriage as it should have been in an unfallen world. In this fallen world we have as our only guides, prudence, wisdom (rare in youth, too late in age), a clean heart, and fidelity of will..... -- J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter #43
Friday, December 20, 2002
Today was not a good day.I couldn't wake up before 1pm. I felt blah. I hazily spent three hours doing nothing when I should have been cleaning my room. Mail came. Things got worse. I'm not good at the spill-all confrontation. They knew it. I acted stoic. I went to my room. I cried and broke fast. Was generally self destructive. Lashed out, at my parents for interferring-- very passively in solitude. We all convened after dinner and watched "Firefly" and pretended nothing was wrong for two hours. My mother said she wanted to get me a math tutor.
I got up and did the laundry.
I have to clean my room.
You don't understand.
I really have to clean my room.
really.
And I reallyreally don't want to yet.
I just don't feel like it. I'm preoccupied with something else.
Religion. Society. And..- yeah.
This isn't the time.
Thursday, December 19, 2002
I guess today's theme is "thank you". Well, no it's not. But this week has been the week of the illegal, the reckless, the subversive, and the all around naughty.I would like to thank Justin for telling Fatima of our plight. I'd like to thank RJ for *almost* helping. And I'd really like to thank Fatima for EVERYTHING she did that night. It's sad when I realize I'm safer at someone else's house for fasting than my own.
I spent a lovely time out shopping tonite. I was finally able to get my secret yearbook person*ah-gurpreet-em* their gift. I think it's pretty cool. I was also able to kill two birds with one stone, since by taking some terrible procratinator to spent 2year old monies(what, did they think they got interest or something? gracious. hehee...) and giving them the gift of my company for an evening I've gotten around trying to find them something cheap and fast.(jk!)
I was able to play tour guide and I found out that there used to be a strange concentration of people in the hacienda area. Odd stuff. And there's the most amazing neighborhood around the corner by the Golf Course. They're Christmas fanatics! I would be scared of them, but I really wish our area was half that "together".
Sunday, December 15, 2002
I have been just thick, and slow, and muddled all weekend. I feel as if I've been wading through syrup. Ever since early friday. Actually, since before then. I was falling asleep at the drop of a hat this past week. I woke up one morning with my glasses and the light still on and my hair still up and slightly uncomfortable since I was sleeping with part of a book jabbing me in the ribs.Then other nights I've been up until 1 or 2 am chatting and falling asleep. Then I make the strongest tea and drink awhile until it is cold. At 2 or so I go to bed and try futilelly (is that a word?!) to wake up with cold tea in the morning.
Friday was especially bad. I was totally in another place. I forgot to study for the Gov't test even though I knew exactly what to look at, after I counted my english journals to see how many there were I put it away and walked out of class instead of turning it in, and I didn't even remember to call for my ride to the yearbook thing until 6!
The Yearbook soiree was a really lovely time though. but it had a rather irritating soundtrack. And the buildings were much too high. I totally lost the moon. But it didn't matter. I still love Olde Towne. After that night, this weekend was rather a bust. I haven't really been able to process anything. Just ask Nate. I was being totally useless to him as a college app esay consultant. I couldnt even remember the question no matter how often he read it.
This has gotten just as long and drawn out and dull as the other time I write it. I can't think. I want to sleep but I don't want to stop working. Sleep feels like giving up. Giving up means I didn't know what I was doing in the first place, but I think I did. I just don't anymore. I'm hanging onto the coattails of what I started.
And Anyway, it's been a hard day's night. And I probably should be sleeping after all I've been doing that has turned out either worthless or wrong but it's nice to be able to go and talk to people, because the things that they do, I find that they make me feel alright... For a little while.
