first real thought.
damn damn damn. just had a good entry going and the computer decided to close my window. what a cathartic exercise this is going to turn out to be. now the whole gist of this is going to be completely different than it started as.
i had this whole thing going about bob dylan, how he is an aquired taste, and how i remember seeing him in concert when i was in the 5th grade, and being able to look back now and laugh at myself and the events that went down that night. i guess all the detail i wrote about earlier doesn't matter so much.
i approach writing with some trepidation, as i am scared of the computer. of its inadvertent, random and spontaneous wrath. (SAVE, liz, SAVE the frigging document.)
I await some mala beads from a friend. she has decided to send them to me, for what reason, i am not sure and pretty sure it doesn't matter. but they have been to tibet and blessed and i will be graciously wearing them.
my otherwise semieloquent writing cannot be mustered right now. someone told me the other day that my emails from italy sounded like i was trying too hard. i was shocked. either at the fact i was so transparent, or that i actually had spent enough time writing them that it was that apparent. (yes these two aspects are differnt) but i think what we write and how we write it is a direct reflection of the person we are. at least at the moment. the emails were thoughtful and tried to be insightful. this is just existential and daily vomit. Beware.
'times they are a'changin'...' no kidding.
i am reading books right now, and i can't get enough, nor can i read fast enough.
i feel like my mind is defunct, not interested in thinking clearly because my mind is indeed in other places. all over in and out and across and near and up and down and ohmygod i'll never get it all down.
i have thought of writing a book sometime in my life, but i wonder if i have experienced enough things in life, enough bad things, that it would be worth reading. it's like the only justification for being indulgent enough to write about my own life, having experienced true tragedy, direct and raw. i wouldn't write about anything else because i don't know anything else better. it is all introspection and lenses and perspective and learning. would anyone actually want to read it? maybe i will know someday.
my grandfather asked me on the phone today how my love life is. i told him it is nonexistent, like it has been since last summer. he said, 'finally you're learning.' and i wanted to ask him, 'so, what, you can be completely in love with your wife and companion of 57 years, and i can't have a fling here or there that break me into pieces?" but i refrained from asking. knowing that my elders almost always know better than i do, and the only reason they don't is for generational changes, daily things that don't end up mattering anyway, in the grand scheme of things. it was interesting. not a new conversation, but today would have been his 59 years of marriage, had my dear grandmother not passed away two years ago. however, she is still very much part of my life, of his life. just as my other grandmother is still very much in my heart, in my other grandfather's heart. i can't imagine being so in love with one person in one lifetime that it can affect your grandchildren and your grandchildren's friends. i actually can imagine what it is like, but have yet to find it. i think maybe people have yet to find it, this life or the next, now in life or later. it makes me want to weep, the possibility of creating a family, a network or similar features and mannerisms and experiences and behaviors which may be attributed to parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles...i guess one lifetime of surviving marriages is not such a common thing these days. but i wouldn't actually know. i have been lucky. very very lucky. and some say it's not luck, you chose your parents. i say maybe, but i know they have given me more than i can understand. can it all really happen from a guy in a bar seeing a girl across and saying, "she's the one..." how does this all work?
sometimes i doubt whether i will find someone or have children. friends of mine will immediately laugh, knowing thoughts like this passage have existed in my brain for the length of my life, and will say, 'you're crazy. you'll be a wife and lover and mother and you will work and all of it'. i still am not convinced.
i had this whole thing going about bob dylan, how he is an aquired taste, and how i remember seeing him in concert when i was in the 5th grade, and being able to look back now and laugh at myself and the events that went down that night. i guess all the detail i wrote about earlier doesn't matter so much.
i approach writing with some trepidation, as i am scared of the computer. of its inadvertent, random and spontaneous wrath. (SAVE, liz, SAVE the frigging document.)
I await some mala beads from a friend. she has decided to send them to me, for what reason, i am not sure and pretty sure it doesn't matter. but they have been to tibet and blessed and i will be graciously wearing them.
my otherwise semieloquent writing cannot be mustered right now. someone told me the other day that my emails from italy sounded like i was trying too hard. i was shocked. either at the fact i was so transparent, or that i actually had spent enough time writing them that it was that apparent. (yes these two aspects are differnt) but i think what we write and how we write it is a direct reflection of the person we are. at least at the moment. the emails were thoughtful and tried to be insightful. this is just existential and daily vomit. Beware.
'times they are a'changin'...' no kidding.
i am reading books right now, and i can't get enough, nor can i read fast enough.
i feel like my mind is defunct, not interested in thinking clearly because my mind is indeed in other places. all over in and out and across and near and up and down and ohmygod i'll never get it all down.
i have thought of writing a book sometime in my life, but i wonder if i have experienced enough things in life, enough bad things, that it would be worth reading. it's like the only justification for being indulgent enough to write about my own life, having experienced true tragedy, direct and raw. i wouldn't write about anything else because i don't know anything else better. it is all introspection and lenses and perspective and learning. would anyone actually want to read it? maybe i will know someday.
my grandfather asked me on the phone today how my love life is. i told him it is nonexistent, like it has been since last summer. he said, 'finally you're learning.' and i wanted to ask him, 'so, what, you can be completely in love with your wife and companion of 57 years, and i can't have a fling here or there that break me into pieces?" but i refrained from asking. knowing that my elders almost always know better than i do, and the only reason they don't is for generational changes, daily things that don't end up mattering anyway, in the grand scheme of things. it was interesting. not a new conversation, but today would have been his 59 years of marriage, had my dear grandmother not passed away two years ago. however, she is still very much part of my life, of his life. just as my other grandmother is still very much in my heart, in my other grandfather's heart. i can't imagine being so in love with one person in one lifetime that it can affect your grandchildren and your grandchildren's friends. i actually can imagine what it is like, but have yet to find it. i think maybe people have yet to find it, this life or the next, now in life or later. it makes me want to weep, the possibility of creating a family, a network or similar features and mannerisms and experiences and behaviors which may be attributed to parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles...i guess one lifetime of surviving marriages is not such a common thing these days. but i wouldn't actually know. i have been lucky. very very lucky. and some say it's not luck, you chose your parents. i say maybe, but i know they have given me more than i can understand. can it all really happen from a guy in a bar seeing a girl across and saying, "she's the one..." how does this all work?
sometimes i doubt whether i will find someone or have children. friends of mine will immediately laugh, knowing thoughts like this passage have existed in my brain for the length of my life, and will say, 'you're crazy. you'll be a wife and lover and mother and you will work and all of it'. i still am not convinced.
posted by Elizabeth at 10:53 PM
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