Life feels like a big question. I’d like to know where the answers are but I suspect they lie at the end of the journey. I’m not ready to be at the end, so I guess I’ll find them like every other mortal – by living my life and making my mistakes – but that seems so hard right now.
I find myself writing "Rebecca was here [insert date here] and she was [insert emotional state here]" on walls, on floors, on pieces of set around the town. I don't know why, but it helps somehow.
S. shaved his head last night. I like it a lot…he’s even more distracting than he was before. I love it when you rub someone’s head and it feels like it’s covered in velvet. Plus it looks really good. Mmmm…
I’m listening to music on an iPod, which is a new experience. I’ve been instructed in the use of the little thing, which is a wonder to me. Five buttons and a little dial and that’s all you need to listen to hundreds and hundreds of songs. Weird. It’s S.’s iPod so it’s all his music. It is both educational and interesting to listen to and see where our tastes meld and where they take sharp departures.
I should be working right now – but I thought I should also put something on here to let myself know that I’m still alive and capable of creating something independent of school work, even if it’s small.
That feels like an answer. An answer I needed.
Rebecca was here January 22nd 2007, and she was comforted.
That's enough for now.