October 3, 2002
Feel Flows
Am listening to the Smashing Pumpkins' 'To Sheila.' You should all listen, too.
You know, my pet turtle spends way too much time trying to escape. He is either sleeping or scrabbling madly at the side of his tank.
Do I really treat him that badly?
You know, I'm scared of the future. Scared that it might not be what I want it to be. I mean, when I do get my book finished, will it just be Marian all over again? Should I search for an agent or a publisher? Should I bother?
Am I destined to have tomes of unpublished works forever beneath my bed?
It wasn't that I hadn't tried with Marian. I did. You know I did. And the only thing that was born of those endeavors was my coming to the conclusion that the whole work was a piece of juvenile crap, a complex I have yet to entirely recover from.
I can want so many things... but how do I get them? My being in college is for the purpose of perspective only. If I have a degree, someone will take me seriously. If I have a degree, I'll know what I'm talking about. You can't go to college to be a writer. You either are, or you aren't. I can get better, of course I can get better, but that isn't going to have anything to do with this liberal arts education.
It is sad that Mike is caught up in my visions of my future, a fact I will not be anytime soon disclosing to him. He says things, sometimes, almost unwittingly, in reference to our future selves, a future togetherness. He doesn't do it on purpose. I don't think he even does it with a desire in his mind.
He doesn't want me that way.
I am surprised by how much I am willing to tuck under my belt.
Things are never so difficult as they seem to be in the middle of the week.
Mike will likely co-op in the spring, and still work at Argosy on the weekend. That will leave us with only Friday and Saturday evenings/mornings.
It scares me that I'm comfortable with the idea of that. Comfortable because I think of the future, think of seeing him more often, most often...
I can't think like this, because it isn't logical. I can't think like this because I've thought like this before and been painfully wrong.
He won't break my heart. He promised.
He is my one and only. I can stop looking. I found him. Things can't get in the way of that. And even if they do, it's not like that in the books. Not in the movies. If my life is a melodrama, I get the sweet, inevitable resolution. I get the pain, too, but I get the conclusion.
Am I in the first chapter of my distress or nearing to the last?
astera at 5:46 p.m.