Actually, the mummies also made me think a lot about death, and life, too. I was already getting pretty existential in the past few days, probably due to lack of sleep, abundance of isolated thought time, and some moon alignments or something... and then my cat died back home... which makes looking at the photos I took of the cat mummies strangely ironic and grotesque.
That's why I am excited to get back to Santa Barbara. There are things I want to do, must do, and there is no time like the present. Life is fleeting, transient, and only so much is in our control. Actually, I'm not even sure how much of my control can get me where I want to be, but I will fight for it as best and long as I am able, which I suppose is all that can be said, really.
Anyway, feeling settled, despite dreams of what I'll do when I get back (six month vacation, finally acclimated to being away from home, will the productivity of high school return? Haha I hope I have time for it all. Shit, I've been watching to much Gossip Girl... it's infiltrating my prose). I love it here, I really do. I missed things at first, obviously, because being wrenched away from everything you have ever known (except that lovely vintage cardigan from Jet Rag, and my bestie MacBook Pro) is kind of a shock to the system. I'm not one usually for overt, overwhelming, and dramatic homesickness, and this was no exception. That's not to say I did not miss things terribly though. I think not to would have done them injustice. But now I'm finally spending less time imagining the 'what I'd be doing if I were in I.V tonight or Tehachapi this morning' scenarios. I don't love it here any more than I did when I first arrived, I think, because I loved it then... I just have a more pure understanding of my presence here. And quite honestly, I am delighted. Leaving for college caused a massive suppression of self which I have been decompressing ever since. I don't know that it will ever be the same, but it's getting much better, and being here, alone, I don't have distractions. There are no pillars or screens to support or deflect my suddenly independent 'adult' (ugh that word has so many icky connotations) perceptual foibles. Obviously, being here I have changed, for even though it hasn't been long, time has passed and with it comes change... but I feel most strongly that I have only managed to focus in on myself, my priorities, my ambitions, my vision... All the inspiration hasn't come back yet in quite the way it used to, but I think like volleyball and bagpipes it just needed a break. I can't say for piping, but the hiatus certainly did wonders for my sporting skills. I feel it's best to wait, and while that's happening I'm over here bolstering the natural resources I've ignored in some subconscious plea for protection against separation and loneliness. I think the result might be the best yet, or as good as it can get when you have to be at all responsible for yourself. I'm really glad I appreciated my childhood when I had it, just like my mom told me to. She was right about a lot of things.
Except perhaps my legs. I think they are much larger than she told me they were. Oh well.
P.S.- I just reread this, and honestly, it's a lot of semi-superficial borderline-B.S. It's true, but also... really, I am always happy. There's this level... where I'm happy, I find inspiration in everything, joy in everything, a pure ecstasy, riveted in life and thought and sense... and I'm actually so damn confident I feel kind of guilty and don't talk to people about it. Because it's rude. And I'm not sure most people want to hear it. (Not that people probably want to read this, either, but hey... it's one in the morning, I need someone to talk to, n'est-ce pas?) Besides, I'm pretty sleepy right now so rambling goes on a bit. Not to say that what's up there is a trite and flippant bundle of falsehoods. It's not. It's just... I'm a hell of a lot happier than that all sounds, and it's barely a smudge on the surface, it's just caught in the reflection at the moment. And I think it's worth examining. Plus, writing practice, even if it's dithering blather doesn't hurt, I daresay.
P.P.S.- If you're wondering why I'm so tired and what all the talk was about mummies, check out the other blog because I'll be covering that soon. It's been quite a day.
No comments:
Post a Comment