friendsTime for another incoherent rant. Nobody need read these, mostly I'm trying to get these thoughts out of my head so I can attain some sense of functionality, because right now I'm a total invalid due to my self-sustaining, all-encompassing, ever-overworking thoughts.
I understand that The Lord is with me. I understand that I'm never really alone. In days not long past I was perfectly okay with abstract comforts from the other side. And I suppose if I had no other option I still would be. But something in me has changed since September. I'm not the same anymore. I've developed, or at least unearthed a strange need to be somebody's friend. I desire friendship. It feels like I shouldn't. It feels like I should be okay with my solemn silent ways. And I am. But I'd rather (for the first time since I was small) share that with someone else. And not just anybody; I want to share my friendship with someone like me.
I miss the days long, long past when I was always one pea in a pod of two. Jake, Rilee in first, then Sean, Aaron, Lexie. I guess Alisa and I in the very farthest reaches of my memory spent a lot of time together before they pulled up roots and moved a little further away.
Things were just never the same after Rilee and Aaron moved away. I haven't hardly spoken to them since. You know what's strange, that just comes to mind now? I remember Rilee's old phone number. I remember when they came out with the 'dial down the center with 1-800-collect' comercial I had to laugh a bit, because you dialed down the center to get her phone number.
I remember I used to torment that particular phone number with prank calls all the time, until they invented caller ID. I think I made her mad.
My memories of those days are beginning to fade. I didn't lock them so tight in a time capsule like I did my memories with Alisa. Yet, the memories of Northridge are so much more recent than the others, so there is more there to begin with. What's more, they exist in somebody else's mind as well. This is why I have witheld continuation of my novel. One day I wanted to get together with Rilee and Lexie and reminiss, hopefully get some more ideas of what was important to them, what they remember, then I can finish. That manuscript I've printed, that 116 someodd pages of work, no, that's more of a pre-write. I really don't know what about those days was so powerful as to get me to reimerse myself in those memorae, but I feel this constant pull towards those things, those friendships, those adventures.
One time I need to make a list of the 'fantasies' (if that is truely what they were) we enacted. I will then select the ones that I can mold into a story. I know somewhat where it is going to go, but I didn't like the way it got there in the prewrite. There was much less there than needed to be. I covered too much time in so little writing. There was so much I had to leave out for sheer lack of...well...anything. Cronologically having this story appeal to my expost facto obsession is just difficult.
When I finish this project, be that in five years or a hundred, I feel I will finally be able to make peace with this strange Gift that caries with it such obsession, such sentimentality from which there is no escape. It feels more human to be so attatched, but at the same time It's a difficult thing to try and walk through the motions of life day after day instead of spending all day in a self-indulgent internal memior of nostalgic thought.
We had the Kings over for dinner tonight. I love spending time with the twins. Sister King, bless her heart, endures so much, and what's worse, she does the same thing I do. She must have endured similar rhetorical bully propoganda that she cannot beleive that she is not self-indulgent or overstepping her social confines by speaking to us, to anybody. She cannot wrap her mind around the fact that she matters to us, that her oppinions are valued. What's more, I don't think there are very many members of our sunday school class that give her the kind of reasuurance she needs. There are only four of us that openly do so, and two of them are her own daughters. That should not cheapen the effect, but let's be honest, it does. A cute girl telling me I'm sweet is more meaningful than my mother saying so. It's sad, but true.
The twins...I wish I could spend more time with them. They're a year older than I am. They are much more grown up than I am. But i think we have mroe in common than they admit. Especially Kaitlyn. Both of them grew up much the same way I did. They're the babies, and by a good number of years too. I see signs that they grew up in the same social hierarchy that I did, and occupied the same slot on the totem pole food chain. It was the roll of people like them and me to be stepped on by the popular crowd. It gave them a sense of satisfaction. I think for them their frustration and sadness at their role was similarly undealt with. They, like me, must now reconcile that.
Kaitlyn and I spent a long time talking when I made her ASL video for her. There was nothing else to do. We had to wait for hours during capture, translation, copy, copy, cut, post-production, the whole mess took a dang long time. But it was nice. I spent most of the day just talking with her. She'd try to describe difficult things about her personality. I understood much better than she thought I would. On more than one instance I was able to find coherent ways to express what she was trying to tell me. Why did I understand so well? How can I not? I feel, act, in deed I am in very many ways similar to her.
And not just her. Kristy is much the same, but because she is more appearantly outgoing it is hard to detect. She told me one time that she is not social by nature, but she tries very hard to act outgoing and inclusive despite her inate personality. Or rather, I told her that such was my disposition, and she told me that I had accurately described hers.
The twins are as different as they are alike, if such a dualistic concept is possible. I have no trouble at all telling them apart. Even at long distances it is easy to tell. Yes, their faces give them away, but even if they didn't I would be able to tell. Kristy walks straiter, her eyes jumping around calmly but quickly, as if she consciously does not wish to dwell on thoughts very long. Kaitlyn, like me, will stare absently as she walks at a tree or a bird or a crack in the sidewalk. If she's like me, then her thoughts are not on the tree or bird or sidewalk at all; that just provides something convenient for her eyes to do as her thoughts sink deep as her mind dwells upon them. But then, there is so much about them I don't know, so I can't say for sure. Much of this is hypothesis based on observations of subconcious anomalies that seem similar to mine.
They have their own friends, their own age, from their own neighborhoods. I think though (hypothesizing) that they feel much the same way about their friends as I do mine. Perhapse I only wish they do, for if such was the case it would be a good experience to befriend them; true friendship.
But it is difficult because for the same reasons. They have enclosed themselves. They are caring and loving girls but have done much like I have. Ever since my friends all moved away, the attatchment, that comradery, that close friendship that we had left with them, at in the absence of such things, my heart ached. Subconsciously I have built walls around me, refusing to get too close for fear of the same sense of internal lamentation. Is it a farce to imagine that their walls are of the same brick and mortar?
Of course, five minutes talking with Hannah - REALLY talking - and all walls brake down. She has a penatrating power, it is near impossible to keep thoughts and feelings from her.
That aside, I would be willing to open myself up emotionally to the King twins if I could. If they'd let me. I fear that even if my wishfull hypothesies were correct that it would still be a long shot that they would feel the need as strongly as I do to find that kind of friendship. And besides that they have each other. I know that that can be a bittersweet relationship, but at least they've always got somebody they can turn to.
Not that I don't. But it would still be nice to have that kind of friendship as I have hardly known since those days past. Hannah was that person for a while, but I fear that the chasm my feelings for her have created has become unspannable. I don't think she has the capacity to fill the desire for frienship I have at this time. She's wonderful when she's around, but then ten miles is a fair distance, some days more than others.
The nights first tear.
And even when she is around, my nerves collapse and I become the sullen, meloncholy, ypained person I try so hard not to be. It's not her fault of course, but that does not lessen the pain that her presence can occasionally cause me.
The last time I saw her though, yesterday if it was not a dream, was a good visit, though short and emotionally shallow. Such shallowness and detatchment and emotional distance seem to make up the fabric of our relationship these days. It's a sad way to live, but not nearly so sad as the alternative; openness with each other.
So no, I do not feal utterly alone. The strength of my brothers from the far side of eternity are with me much more than I realize, and the spirit of my God is near me so very often. That total, chilling, heart-stopping alone feeling has faded into the most distant of memories, because I have only felt it when in the gall of my own weakness, which thing I have left long behind me. I am never alone. I feel the strength of wonderful, perfect beings that love me and have an active concern for me. I don't want to take away from the significance of that, however...
-I hate to include a 'however'-
I still feel alone in the lesser sense of the word, in the temporal and emotional sense. I desire friendship. On this side. Is that wrong? Should I just be satisfied with a distant but also deep friendship with a distant rose, with the unseen presence of a real but abstract God?
Or can I long for more?
The second tear.
I understand that The Lord is with me. I understand that I'm never really alone. In days not long past I was perfectly okay with abstract comforts from the other side. And I suppose if I had no other option I still would be. But something in me has changed since September. I'm not the same anymore. I've developed, or at least unearthed a strange need to be somebody's friend. I desire friendship. It feels like I shouldn't. It feels like I should be okay with my solemn silent ways. And I am. But I'd rather (for the first time since I was small) share that with someone else. And not just anybody; I want to share my friendship with someone like me.
I miss the days long, long past when I was always one pea in a pod of two. Jake, Rilee in first, then Sean, Aaron, Lexie. I guess Alisa and I in the very farthest reaches of my memory spent a lot of time together before they pulled up roots and moved a little further away.
Things were just never the same after Rilee and Aaron moved away. I haven't hardly spoken to them since. You know what's strange, that just comes to mind now? I remember Rilee's old phone number. I remember when they came out with the 'dial down the center with 1-800-collect' comercial I had to laugh a bit, because you dialed down the center to get her phone number.
I remember I used to torment that particular phone number with prank calls all the time, until they invented caller ID. I think I made her mad.
My memories of those days are beginning to fade. I didn't lock them so tight in a time capsule like I did my memories with Alisa. Yet, the memories of Northridge are so much more recent than the others, so there is more there to begin with. What's more, they exist in somebody else's mind as well. This is why I have witheld continuation of my novel. One day I wanted to get together with Rilee and Lexie and reminiss, hopefully get some more ideas of what was important to them, what they remember, then I can finish. That manuscript I've printed, that 116 someodd pages of work, no, that's more of a pre-write. I really don't know what about those days was so powerful as to get me to reimerse myself in those memorae, but I feel this constant pull towards those things, those friendships, those adventures.
One time I need to make a list of the 'fantasies' (if that is truely what they were) we enacted. I will then select the ones that I can mold into a story. I know somewhat where it is going to go, but I didn't like the way it got there in the prewrite. There was much less there than needed to be. I covered too much time in so little writing. There was so much I had to leave out for sheer lack of...well...anything. Cronologically having this story appeal to my expost facto obsession is just difficult.
When I finish this project, be that in five years or a hundred, I feel I will finally be able to make peace with this strange Gift that caries with it such obsession, such sentimentality from which there is no escape. It feels more human to be so attatched, but at the same time It's a difficult thing to try and walk through the motions of life day after day instead of spending all day in a self-indulgent internal memior of nostalgic thought.
We had the Kings over for dinner tonight. I love spending time with the twins. Sister King, bless her heart, endures so much, and what's worse, she does the same thing I do. She must have endured similar rhetorical bully propoganda that she cannot beleive that she is not self-indulgent or overstepping her social confines by speaking to us, to anybody. She cannot wrap her mind around the fact that she matters to us, that her oppinions are valued. What's more, I don't think there are very many members of our sunday school class that give her the kind of reasuurance she needs. There are only four of us that openly do so, and two of them are her own daughters. That should not cheapen the effect, but let's be honest, it does. A cute girl telling me I'm sweet is more meaningful than my mother saying so. It's sad, but true.
The twins...I wish I could spend more time with them. They're a year older than I am. They are much more grown up than I am. But i think we have mroe in common than they admit. Especially Kaitlyn. Both of them grew up much the same way I did. They're the babies, and by a good number of years too. I see signs that they grew up in the same social hierarchy that I did, and occupied the same slot on the totem pole food chain. It was the roll of people like them and me to be stepped on by the popular crowd. It gave them a sense of satisfaction. I think for them their frustration and sadness at their role was similarly undealt with. They, like me, must now reconcile that.
Kaitlyn and I spent a long time talking when I made her ASL video for her. There was nothing else to do. We had to wait for hours during capture, translation, copy, copy, cut, post-production, the whole mess took a dang long time. But it was nice. I spent most of the day just talking with her. She'd try to describe difficult things about her personality. I understood much better than she thought I would. On more than one instance I was able to find coherent ways to express what she was trying to tell me. Why did I understand so well? How can I not? I feel, act, in deed I am in very many ways similar to her.
And not just her. Kristy is much the same, but because she is more appearantly outgoing it is hard to detect. She told me one time that she is not social by nature, but she tries very hard to act outgoing and inclusive despite her inate personality. Or rather, I told her that such was my disposition, and she told me that I had accurately described hers.
The twins are as different as they are alike, if such a dualistic concept is possible. I have no trouble at all telling them apart. Even at long distances it is easy to tell. Yes, their faces give them away, but even if they didn't I would be able to tell. Kristy walks straiter, her eyes jumping around calmly but quickly, as if she consciously does not wish to dwell on thoughts very long. Kaitlyn, like me, will stare absently as she walks at a tree or a bird or a crack in the sidewalk. If she's like me, then her thoughts are not on the tree or bird or sidewalk at all; that just provides something convenient for her eyes to do as her thoughts sink deep as her mind dwells upon them. But then, there is so much about them I don't know, so I can't say for sure. Much of this is hypothesis based on observations of subconcious anomalies that seem similar to mine.
They have their own friends, their own age, from their own neighborhoods. I think though (hypothesizing) that they feel much the same way about their friends as I do mine. Perhapse I only wish they do, for if such was the case it would be a good experience to befriend them; true friendship.
But it is difficult because for the same reasons. They have enclosed themselves. They are caring and loving girls but have done much like I have. Ever since my friends all moved away, the attatchment, that comradery, that close friendship that we had left with them, at in the absence of such things, my heart ached. Subconsciously I have built walls around me, refusing to get too close for fear of the same sense of internal lamentation. Is it a farce to imagine that their walls are of the same brick and mortar?
Of course, five minutes talking with Hannah - REALLY talking - and all walls brake down. She has a penatrating power, it is near impossible to keep thoughts and feelings from her.
That aside, I would be willing to open myself up emotionally to the King twins if I could. If they'd let me. I fear that even if my wishfull hypothesies were correct that it would still be a long shot that they would feel the need as strongly as I do to find that kind of friendship. And besides that they have each other. I know that that can be a bittersweet relationship, but at least they've always got somebody they can turn to.
Not that I don't. But it would still be nice to have that kind of friendship as I have hardly known since those days past. Hannah was that person for a while, but I fear that the chasm my feelings for her have created has become unspannable. I don't think she has the capacity to fill the desire for frienship I have at this time. She's wonderful when she's around, but then ten miles is a fair distance, some days more than others.
The nights first tear.
And even when she is around, my nerves collapse and I become the sullen, meloncholy, ypained person I try so hard not to be. It's not her fault of course, but that does not lessen the pain that her presence can occasionally cause me.
The last time I saw her though, yesterday if it was not a dream, was a good visit, though short and emotionally shallow. Such shallowness and detatchment and emotional distance seem to make up the fabric of our relationship these days. It's a sad way to live, but not nearly so sad as the alternative; openness with each other.
So no, I do not feal utterly alone. The strength of my brothers from the far side of eternity are with me much more than I realize, and the spirit of my God is near me so very often. That total, chilling, heart-stopping alone feeling has faded into the most distant of memories, because I have only felt it when in the gall of my own weakness, which thing I have left long behind me. I am never alone. I feel the strength of wonderful, perfect beings that love me and have an active concern for me. I don't want to take away from the significance of that, however...
-I hate to include a 'however'-
I still feel alone in the lesser sense of the word, in the temporal and emotional sense. I desire friendship. On this side. Is that wrong? Should I just be satisfied with a distant but also deep friendship with a distant rose, with the unseen presence of a real but abstract God?
Or can I long for more?
The second tear.
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