I never thought I would care so much about a band getting back together, but I just found out that Five Iron Frenzy is reuniting and I am ECSTATIC. It's like someone took the best moments of my teenage years and brought them back to live in one brief blog post.
I wish more people would read and write in LiveJournal. I've been reading back over old entries a lot lately and it's a fantastic public record of how much I've grown over the past seven years. It's better than my private journal because I write for other people and therefore record more interesting events.
I had a dream about John the other day. He died six years ago and that shit still shakes me up. I don't know if I'll ever fully process it. My relationship with John affected every romantic relationships I've had in some way or another. I think he's the reason I take a very practical approach to relationships now instead of allowing myself to get poetic and flowery.
Truthfully, I think John and I would have continued to grow apart. He probably would have gone on to marry some punk-y Christian chick while I followed through with my adventures in Tucson. That, of course, would have been much easier to handle. I might even be able to have poetic feelings toward someone again. The best part would have been finally coming to terms with the fact that he was kind of a player and used the same little nickname for me as he did for another girl named Emily who he dated in between our little episodes.
I think what shocked me the most about the whole situation was this romantic, Notebook-ish idea that I got stuck in my head around the age of 16 or 17. I thought we would keep fatefully coming together over and over again for the rest of our lives. I was truly convinced that he would always be around. I really, really, really believed that God was trying to tell me something. And at that time, when I still had such a strong Christian faith, John's death was like a slap in the face. It felt like God said, "Just kidding" in such a cruel way.
Now I see that God never said any such thing. John was a gift, at the very least an incredibly rewarding friendship. I expected him to be something more. I expected him to be some kind of destiny or fate instead of appreciating what was happening in the moment. Most of me has matured out of such thinking about other people, but there's a part of me that feels as if it will never heal. As if it will always be waiting for another serendipitous incident where I bump into John at just the right time and we pick up where we left off and every other romance is just a placeholder in the meantime.
Nostalgia makes me feel drunk. So I write e-mails and Live Journal posts and send IMs to people on Facebook.
I miss poetry and writing and cats with fat paws...inspiration and having real feelings instead of being numb. Hugging the people I work for. Mostly, the sense of aliveness. Not being afraid to party and less afraid to get close to people. A little more carefree.
I noticed, though, that I'm never content. Maybe instead of wishing for the past I should focus on being more present. Stop dissociating and making myself numb. Stop hiding in my living room on Friday nights and resenting those who don't.
I am lately amazed at how much maintenance is required in order to stay alive from day to day. I mean, to start, I have to keep feeding myself. It's like gassing up a car except with my body I have to do it every three hours. Unlike gassing up a car, only part of this fuel gets used and then I have to spend time in the bathroom whenever my body demands. Speaking of the bathrom, there's hygeiene that takes up a significant part of each morning and evening: teeth brushing, showering, hair brushing. And after all that my body is STILL not deemed socially acceptable and I have to cover it up with clothes that I spent time buying, washing, and folding.
Somehow, even with all the time I spend in it, I am not capable of fully maintaining my own body and I regularly have to visit a medical professional to ensure that everything is still working correctly. How weird is it that with all the time I spend in this skin I still don't understand it in the least?
When do I actually get to LIVE? I have to spend all this time on the upkeep of my body. When do I actually get to use it to be alive? After all this scrubbing and feeding and checking and working to pay for all the damn things I need to meet my body's demands...what is left in each day?
I think if I were ever to go crazy (if?????) it would be because I'm too smart for my own good...I think too much. Or because I have too many good ideas in my head and too many things I want to do and CAN do but I don't know where to start.
It's always the geniuses who lose their minds!
At least, that's how I comfort myself in times like these.
I rode my bike today for the first time since the spring. What a great feeling! I am now energized for the rest of the day. I also dropped it off at the bike shop, so by tomorrow it should be in excellent riding condition for all my local traveling needs.
The weather is so beautiful right now. Seventy degrees and sunny. I wonder every day how I survived in Rochester for so long!
For the past three nights I've slept better than I can ever remember sleeping, and I wake up with energy and motivation. I'm active and I don't constantly feel the need to take a nap.
I used to think of myself as having too much to do, but I think that's because I spent so much time watching t.v. and sleeping and then never accomplished anything useful. Now that I am more awake and alive, I wonder what I ever did with myself every day before I got too depressed to do much of anything.
I keep having dreams about dying. I'm always at peace with the concept of dying. Last night, I dreamt about having cancer. I was prepared. It's strange to feel peaceful about something so scary.