September 18, 2002
Revelation on a Wednesday Morning
The little magnetic poetry refrigerator sitting on my compute desk read, somewhat ineloquently, 'You are my dream.'
Mike picks it up, reads it, shuffles the letters about a bit, and presents it to me anew, grinning.
"Now it's like Yoda. 'My dream you are.'"
I feel like Margaret Cavendish. I could be content with just being a woman, a regular woman, if I could have my writing. So I could be married. Maybe even have kids. Could I still have my hours wrapped in fictional reveries? Could I still have that?
Am I just fooling myself?
I'm drinking grape juice and listening to Bright Eyes' 'A Poetic Retelling of an Unfortunate Seduction.' Rather like it. Sounds a bit like Modest Mouse.
I should be doing my labs for Spanish, but, you know, now I'm feeling a bit like John Gray. I love the classics. But I cannot say I really support this classical education, not at present, not when I'm so occupied elsewhere. I'm in school because I like to learn about things. Certain things. I want to take Literature and History. The rest of this...
To quote.
"Must I plunge into metaphysics? Alas, I cannot see in the dark, nature has not furnished me with the optics of a cat. Must I pore into mathematics? Alas, I cannot see in too much light; I am no eagle."
Can you tell I paid attention in English 132 today? I pay attention everyday. That class feels worthwhile. And interesting.
I didn't have a conversation with myself when walking to Spanish at a quarter to eight this morning. I didn't. Honest.
Okay. So something along these lines.
I can't just make decisions about who I am. Those absolute immobile stone traits I felt I had in the past... have suddenly become as mutable as clay. Not river clay. I'm talking freaking lime green play-doh here. Ground into the carpet.
I am Jillian. Just Jillian. I used to vow up and down that I was going to be a musician and marry Taylor Hanson. Guess what? He's married now. I'm not fifteen anymore. I play guitar for myself... and occasionally sing quietly for others. That's not who I am. That was who I most adamantly was. And because I have changed... does not make that any less me. Just not me anymore.
I'm not going to make anymore promises. Not to myself. Not to anyone else. I'm just going to try to live my life as best as I can. There isn't anything I have to do, there isn't anything I should do. Be happy. Be fulfilled. Respect and love those around me.
Buddha claimed that life is suffering. That the only way to end suffering, is to end desire.
Well, I don't want to. I want to keep desiring. I want to keep suffering. Someone told me once that I was an old soul. Somehow I think they must be wrong, because I haven't had enough of life yet.
I am in control of my life. And I can take responsibility for whatever choices I choose to make. I don't owe anyone anything. Only me. Just me.
Just Jillian.
And I know what I want.
astera at 11:11 a.m.