JANUARY 1

A new place to rest our feet before continuing the climb. At least today no one has expectations of me to be productive. The whole world collectively hung over and in recovery mode. I always wonder, were they celebrating the beginning of a new year or the end to the last one? Last night in my belligerent attempt at eloquence I proclaimed to my loved ones that I was poised and ready for both. The clock struck midnight, I raised my Belgian brew to the stars, then proceeded to kiss the love of my life, pondering our voyage.

This is truly a lovely time to reintroduce oneself. And who better to introduce yourself to but to those who mean the most? I'm seldom a proud person but I try not to be too stubborn about it when I am. I enjoy health kicks and positive thinking and have discovered that both of these things are easier said than done. I like taking my time enjoying the real things in life and mostly try to ignore the fact that existence has its limits. Sometimes I pretend the magical things are real. It gives me a nice sense of innovation.

New years resolutions. I don’t buy them! I’m also no fan of the gym during the entire month of January. Overnight it develops into a sweaty institution heaving with resolution makers. They’ve all eaten one too many holiday pies this season and consequently so want to lose 40 pounds. So the hordes jog awkwardly to Kelly Clarkson on the most popular mp3 player Best Buy had to offer this holiday and for the first time in months I actually have to wait my turn. Alas, from this day forth, January shall become my month of rest. Bonne chance you fucks.

Phantom noises. I lay next to my boyfriend in bed and he startles at the most peculiar sounds. I love his responses more than I think he’ll ever know. It’s late and sleep has begun to arrive. The washing machine turns a new cycle and from the bedroom I can hear the water falling in its cylinder and from a light unconsciousness he sits up and exclaims something like… “the mantis shrimp tank has sprung a leak!” or with his ear to the television remark that he can hear running water from inside. I return to my prior state, smiling.

Last night I went on an adventure all without leaving my bedroom! I was a faceless soldier with a shield and a mask and all the technology dreams can dream, and as dreams go I was on a mission to save the world... I stomped through marshes and dark underground buildings and tip-toed around expensive looking villas on beaches all in the name of honor. I pondered it today and thought perhaps in these action packed dreams I’m actually fighting for my conscious life survival. So! Friends I bid you adieu, it is time to rest up for tonight’s escapades!

Sometimes I feel like people seriously don’t get me. It sounds so melodramatic but I really don’t mean it in that way. I mean that in the process of communication, somewhere in the abysses between thought and speech, some cantankerous part of my psyche jumps out and interferes. It’s sometimes embarrassing. I’ll have a perfectly well thought out sentence planned, and then near the end everything goes haywire and any remote internal feeling I’m having at that time sputters out on the pavement. Right there in front of me like I’m watching myself trip running downhill. I am frequently bewildered.

It was a lovely day for a ride. I zipped around in a scarf and a pair of moccasin slippers without a single care in the world. Even the bitter cold or my inability to get a decent night of sleep couldn’t dampen my spirit. The sun was out and I’m always happiest when it is. My morning lecture is supposed to be about plant biology. Today we discussed quantum physics. I think my professor is dyslexic. Togehter. Ohter. Wiewing. Proper comprehension is often quite important while instructing about something on a different spectrum than what’s in the class description.

It started with a glance. I suppose perhaps several. I certainly wasn’t ready to rearrange my life for you and you weren’t ready to enter it. I went home and wrote some words on a page& that’s where the idea of you began to stir. I knew who you were and that you wore a hat and drank Izze with your lunch. But after time I knew something else and that was that I wasn’t the same and that I needed to get used to that feeling. I knew no matter the time or distance we would always find eachother.

Last night I was informed that I have been deprived of a central part of childhood folklore while lying in bed and questioning what was meant by “I need magic sand!” So this is where I take initiative and educate myself on the subject. Ahem. Supposedly the sandman is a popular fictional character in Western folklore that brings sleep and dreams by sprinkling magical sand onto the eyes of children. The sleep in their eyes upon waking is supposed to be the result of the Sandman's work the previous evening. Interesting. Perhaps I have discovered a reason for my insomnia!

Super Mario 64. I know, right. Pathetic. Perhaps the sole reason for my late entry. Silly, silly dear. I think I’m getting too old for video games. Or perhaps I’m just getting too lazy. I have thrown all concept of time management out the window. Or I just believe too simply that I deserve a break from baking so much pumpkin bread and reward myself with four hours of brain slowing activity. I should be ashamed. Really, I should. But the funny thing is I’m much too preoccupied with thinking about how to scale Tall Tall Mountain or whatsit. Hell.

The whole experience has also dramatically increased my fondness of cursing. In fact sometimes I half believe I have a mild case of turrets syndrome. Alas, I have never been one for articulacy in the heat of battle. Ask my delightful boyfriend who has many times had to decipher my often maddening vernacular. But I continue my search for the terrible side effects of video game playing as to discourage myself from wasting any more brainwaves in front of the television, so that perhaps something productive will come of my long weekend. Aha! Yet Bowser beckons. The prat little bastard!

I had another adventure last night. But this one was different. It spoke to me in shiny fish scales and tree-rooted beasts with mossy eyelids. I battled great beasts and manipulated evil. The city had its revolution, and the people stood defiant against injustice. I was in fact the one to deliver salvation in a most obscure form but I won’t tell you what because perhaps one day you’ll pick up a book and flip to a page and find out yourself and it will be much better this way because real words on a page always has more magic.

I had a terrible morning because I had just awoken from another vivid dream but this one far more terrifying than the last because in it was us and I went through losing you all over again and I hated every second. In my dream you were too proud to admit you had done the hurting and thought me too daft to realize you no longer wanted me around so you lied instead. I hate dreams like this because they remind me of bad times which I no longer associate with the one who holds my heart in his hands.

It’s bitter and wrong of me but sometimes I can’t help but remember our earlier years and let it get me down. I hope that whatever you didn’t see in me then keeps you here now because quite frankly I’m in love with you, dammit, and I think you underestimate me when I say I knew it all along. It was flightier then, I liked the sound of your name and your laugh, but as time passed I instead fell for the crack in your voice when you started to cry and the crease in your skin from the bedsheets.

I’m sore all over. The cold weather and my frugality are a poor match for the season. Electricity bills are well known for sky-rocketing during winter months and I’m bound and determined to go against the corporate grain. I pile on the blankets at night and have invested in some delightful moccasin slippers to keep my far extremities warm. I make tea unremittingly in every flavor that can be served hot. All my efforts to keep the bills low, however, have somehow resulted in every muscle in my back and neck feeling oddly like beef jerky. From the cows perspective.

Tooth paste. The blizzardy cinnamon kind. Cottage cheese. English muffins. Some black eyeliner if the budget permits. Bread. Salmon. Spinach leaves. Crutons. Glorious varieties of cheese.Wine. Granola. Face wash. Shaving cream. Pria. Burnable CD’s for dad and mum so they don’t listen to rubbish all the time. Flavored water. Beer. Newcastle perhaps if it’s not ridiculously overpriced. A red hat. Some mittens. Socks. These are all things I need very soon although half of which, I fear, I will most likely forget to purchase once I get to the store. Except for probably the cheese, which I overspend on regularly.

I believe my apartment is falling apart. I actually ran the heat today for the first time in quite a while, nearly all day, and the (perhaps nonexistent) insulation has failed to retain the heat I’m paying for the damned machine to produce. If you choose to stand by a window, bring a sweater because the drafty coldness is quite hospitable here. Management can all go to hell for being so wretched and for insisting on hiring incompetent douche bags to do their dirty work. I’m finished! Show me the way to next year and a more solid structure. Enough.

Tonight I read something real and true and I was struck in a way too big for words and I feel fulfilled and alive but also sorry at the realness as if I’m shrugging at the heavens admitting “yep, it’s really the best we got” and in that moment I realize God is probably the most ok one with all of this because down here on earth we’re still aiming for perfection, too busy to realize that in the end all that will matter is that we lead full lives in balance with the rest of the world and eachother.

Insomnia returns. I thought for a while I could avoid it, like I thought I could avoid doing this entry tonight. Evidently I failed at both. There’s a nice glow to 4:00am though. Friendly in a “misery loves company” kind of way. I stumbled across a song I only just learned the lyrics to and they say it’s hard to be a human being and I cant tell you how fulfilled I am that I learned these lyrics now instead of any other time. The apartment’s in rare form tonight—quiet. Perfect for not sleeping and daydreaming beneath snow stars.

There hangs a painting on my wall and it excites me. It shouts in happy reds and yellows, greens and blues and its thick black lines drawn as if with children’s hands hold more mystery and maturity than any text or transcript. I like to look at it and remember. And when I can’t remember, which is most of the time, I create and make believe which always seems to retain more magic. Mostly I think of you and where we came from. Love can seem such a dangerous beast. I’m so glad I overcame my fear of losing you.

FUCK. Fuck fuck a million times fuck. Or at least 100 because that way I’ll have done something fruitful with this delightful slice of hell commonly known as insomnia. I feel like screaming bloody murder and pulling at my hair until I pass out from exhaustion or alternately pain. I hate being this goddamn tired. Every emotion is heightened to its maximum reach and suspended over long, long periods of time so I am never to recover. Or at least that’s how I feel now. I’m still pissed about our <> as you so gently called it. FUCK. Fuck.

Je veux écrire en français ce soir. Aujourd’hui c’était froid. La semaine dernière j’ai entendu que la ville où j’habite est le plus sombre dans le Michigan. C’est vraiment parfait pour une personne qui absolument adore le soleil. Je suis triste de temps en temps à cause de ça. Je partirai pour la Floride dans quelques semaines. Je déteste attendre. Ma mère m’a donne une lampe qui s’appelle << GoLite >> pour m’aider avec la tristesse. Je souhaite qu’il va m’aider. Je ne suis pas heureuse maintenant. Je déteste le temps et je ne dors pas. Nique. Merde. Et quelque chose d’autre.

Today wasn’t a good day. I feel so filled to the brim with unexplanation I don’t even know where to begin. And of course, my “n” key is being difficult just as I decide to try. I can feel the weight in my arms and legs and neck, all dragging to a monotonous drum. It’s as if they’re no longer a part of my body, but useless appendages with one goal of exhausting me. I’m finding myself to be sad again. It sounds odd but I can feel it. It must be chemical. A train-wreck. A misplaced set of keys.

January must be the longest month in existence. I think perhaps Father Time has some crude sense of folly that I’m just now discovering. Today it was warm, and tomorrow it will be well below freezing. Along with our sinking economy I think this place just may be doomed forever. You might laugh but even into college I pray for snow days. A day where weather has stopped time and we’re all given a day to catch up on real life. I suspect I will dream of snow days far into my working years. Time to flip my jammies inside-out.

It’s now that I begin to think. The cursor twitches nervously in front of me and I’m stunned stupid in its gaze. I’m convinced this is all some awful punishment, I say out loud to no one, for stepping on ant hills as a child or picking my nose in public. The wind blows wickedly outside. I am anxious and awake and listening to its menacing whistle. There’s a free counseling center at my University. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt me to go, though realistically it probably would. Truth hurts, but I’m due for a dose. I feel ungrateful and crass.

He fell asleep again. It’s become such an amazement to me how easily it can happen. I don’t know why, it’s quite a natural phenomenon that I myself used to be able to perform with quite ease. It’s different now though. I’m jealous. And very tired. I feel pained and crazed this time of night because I don’t feel alright and there’s no one awake I can possibly reach out to. Though with this in mind, I now know I wouldn’t do well on an island. In any case, the sleep deprivation is encouraging an acute paranoia about most everything.

I’ve made quite a habit of writing these entries between midnight and 6 a.m. while I’m not sleeping. Or perhaps I really am sleeping and the entire month of January is just a reverie! I think actually I might prefer that. The protein skimmer in the fish tank is humming as it skims. I’m thankful for the white noise that’s distracting me from the solitude. It almost sounds intentional for this time of night. I have an exam in 12 hours. And then another, again, in 36. I don’t know why I find this important to include in my entry.

A pirate sword hangs above my linen room door and I like it best because it makes me imagine the not-real things that lighten my heart and make me feel most like a child. I’ve been such a grown up lately. Sad, lonely, and tired, all mostly at night but sometimes during the day. But today I have changed my perspective and will keep writing my story about the boy and the beast and the stars in the sky and the soldiers in orange and royal reds. I won’t concern myself any more with text-books or bills or grown-up worries.

I wish I could fill this entry with silence that is hushed and chock full of meaning and sentimentality. I wish you could hear that right now, I do, because in that quiet where we both exist, we could leave this place and sit atop the moon and let our feet swing carelessly off the edge. This is where objectivity would sink in gently as the moon-dust settled softly on the ground and we would learn by observing the distant earth that there are 2 poles to everything and perspective has much more to do with life than we think.

Today I dug deeper and I found it’s cold even underneath my scarf and sweater. But I’ve resolved to brave the winter instead of shriveling away. Help is on its way in 5-7 business days, and though it couldn’t arrive sooner I am pleased to report that I think things are going to turn out alright. My living-room is so alive right now with flowers. I smile when I walk through it. And tonight I splurged and bought the pricy tomatoes that smell like heaven. Tonight I fought with things that remind me I am alive. Tonight I won.

Mere minutes are left to sum up the month and only 89 words left to do it. But how can I try to make a conclusion to a life that can be so difficult to predict, explain, or control. Today my Uncle was diagnosed with very aggressive cancer. He’s in his sixties but has a very young heart. My family is devastated. What’s worse is that now my other 3 uncles are at a 40% greater risk. I hate how ungrateful the flirtation with loss can make you feel. Like a million unsaid words suddenly arise out of the sadness.