November 9th, 2009 Always Dizzy
It is strange being back. As if I had been in a big whole all weekend and I had just climbed out of it. When I look back on it I just fall. People seem different, but at the same time they feel achingly the same. The things they say, the things they laugh at. It is high who is different, and I know it will fade. I walk through the hallways and see face after face after face. It is all the same. We’re moving forward, we’re moving to 4th hour 5th hour 6th hour. This trip has given me some strength, some nutrients to carry me ever onward. I can’t look back at this writing because it will all end up gone. There is a difference between Vanity and Pride says Jane Austen. Vanity is how we think the world sees us, Pride is how we see ourselves. These ideas have been floating in my head and not much else. What else can I say? Flying is what I expected. Airports are sort of lonely average places. They’re not like the movies. You don’t see Young beautiful lovers running through them begging their other half to stay. People come, people go. They’re always moving. Some wait though. Some work here. And I am just another face. Coming and going. Flying is what I expected. It’s a form of public transportation and like all the public buses I’ve been on is constructed to fit the needs of all people. It had been used by all sorts of people. And it seems a constant theme in my life, as some remain forgotten and some are quiet and ambivalent. This is a constant, deflated expectations. Once I get to wherever I’m going I find that I’ve forgotten something where I was at, and long to go back. There always seems to be something missing. In everything I go and I everything I do. I have found lately that I have internalized this notion and it has become a sort of characteristic in me. Yesterday I went to the Pennsylvania University campus. It was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen (the only college campus I have seen apart from UNO’s) There were students every where walking and talking studying, going somewhere. And I longed to be one of them walking down these streets, and have some place to go, somebody to meet, something to do. But I knew deep down, that there would be something ticking if I were them. Some impending doom –there always is-. There would be nothing there would be everything there would be something wrong. I knew If I went to school here, it would never be as good as it seemed. But maybe it would. Maybe this is just my internally defense mechanisms installed in order to make things seem not as good as they seem, but really they are. And to be quite honest I have no idea how to feel anymore. Someone. Somebody tell me how to feel. This weekend seemed to spent in lusty awe. I want, and I am in awe that such lives could exist. But secretly I know it’s never as good as it seems. Is it just me? Is it always not as good as it seems. It reminds me of a book when I was little. To little girls who lived across town from eachother. They stared at the other ones house and wished if only they lived there. The other one wished the same thing. Some how they switched homes for a day and realized that their own house looked just what they wanted it to look like. The story ended up happy, but will I end up happy. Why must everyone be happy. I heard a little blurb on talk radio. The man said something along the lines of why does everyone think god owes them something. Whenever a natural disaster happens the nations cry how could God do something like this. Why doesn’t he answer my prayers? What does he owe us, what have we given him?
The best thing I can hoped to be is humble and loved.