Tags: time

three words.

You're in my sky.

Everything feels like it is falling into place, in the most odd of ways. Times are incredibly strange, now, people are even stranger which I thought not possible. It is an odd feeling to be wishing the year away, wake up one morning and realize that it is gone. I wonder if I will wake up one morning at 60-something or other and die wondering where all of my time went. Where does the time go? The Hermit has been nudging me and the High Priestess has been hailing me, they want me to look deeper. But, before I look into myself, I have to finish up a project. Once that project is done it will be acceptable for me to think instead of talk things out. (Oh dear, I have such a stupid crush on a straight girl. It is so stupid that I would laugh if it came to anything, but it so will not come to anything.) Once I am done writing about the other I will sort things out in the messy file drawers that make up my mind. I really am beginning to like where I am despite what I have lost and continue to lose (dead skin is how I feel about it.) Everything is falling into place.
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three words.

Seeing as you are a BASKET CASE, I have the right to intervene.

There's something in the poem The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (as it is a very long poem, I feel that I am justified in underlining it rather than putting it in quotes) that I'm supposed to know. It's been showing up a lot recently from a lot of different people. John brought a large book of Elliot's to my house on Sunday and asked me to figure out what the yellow smoke was. Is it trying to tell me that I'm not measuring my life out in coffee spoons? Is it trying to tell me that I am one of the women who come and go talking of Michaelangelo as if their pseudo-intellectualism is impressive? Because, after all, those who speak of this poem may as well be compared to those speaking of Michaelangelo. But I have not been speaking of it of my own volition, and I'm merely writing it here as to discern its meaning. Add another thing to my list of things that I have not done but attempted to do.
      Everything has been done is quick succession, and it is very dizzying thinking that time has not gone by very long. In one week so much can happen, but it feels like one week could not hold so many things as my weeks have been containing. I'm too big to be contained, I'm too small to be anything other than a drop in the ocean. Apparently I've been too influential, leading by my example which I'm not sure anyone realizes exactly what it is that I have been doing. Where I'm going to end up is going to be incredible, I know it. The road from here to there is going to be rough despite my will to achieve it. Let's see where the day goes, one day at a time.
three words.

Time and time again.

Time is a very intimidating thing. Time is enormous. It also is, as I've noticed, very inconsistent. It hurried me through my summer and has brought me here: the edge of it. It's a kind of scary place to be, considering as I'm attempting something that is both crazy and incredible (acting. Public speaking. Educated lying. Call it what you will.) After that ends, I start classes again. As soon as I get to a somewhat more legal age (22 days), I'm going to check out jobs. But what I've noticed about time is that it speeds up at the most inopportune moments. Then it slows down, like right now, at nights when there is nothing going on. There's no reason to wallow in any particular emotion nor anything to do other than eat, watch television, read, or sleep. I opted for filling in my new black and red datebook which I was forced to get.
      Tuesday was filled with a lot of noise and occasional moments of fun. Dianna, Eden, and Connie decided that for the ride to TCNJ (The College of New Jersey), with CCSC (Children's Chorus of Sussex County), they would ride with myself and my mom. Three incredibly different people ended up in the backseat of my mom's car. Three people incredibly different from each other, as well as myself. There is something to understand that I'm not overestimating: I'm incredibly different from everybody you meet in the tri-state area, more or less. That's a comforting thought as well as a discontenting one. It was amusing as Mrs. Mello was announcing the car rides, I corrected her on my mom's last name. I've been in the choir for three years and she still cannot pronounce my last name. So I corrected her because that's what I do to every single person who mispronounces my name. "It doesn't help if you scream it." After we got into the car Dianna said, "You know, I just realized that Mrs. Mello really doesn't like you, does she?"
      We took the "scenic route" that Mrs. Mello knew with these really fucked up directions and we ended up following two people. Connie and I spent a lot of time making fun of Mrs. Mello and... everybody else. Well, that's us. When we got to the TCNJ thing we went up the stairs, down the stairs, up the stairs, down the stairs, and up the stairs again practicing the cannon, Now I Walk in Beauty. After all was done, we got ice cream on Rt. 31 and found out the trip is going to be to Italy. Awesome. Worth staying for. Blah blah blah. We sang in the car to Greenday, Bowling for Soup, and anything else that came into someone's mind that everyone else knew. We also got lost several times because my mother decided that instead of going on 206, we were going to follow Karen and co. and make fun of them. (Actually, we wanted to follow Karen because she had a GPS... but, we actually found out we followed her for the former reason.) Enjoyable. Life is scary. Time is vast. I'm 5'2ish and 90ish lb. I'm a fucking giant. The end.