Saturday, June 28, 2008

Harry Potter's Phoenix is Cooler

I sit listening to the love I have always tried to ignore, country music-and beside the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, Caydence Elizabeth, whose blood runs through my veins. I must leave, before I think too hard about my sister's comments to bring "unwrinkled clothes" to the hostel, or another trip to Wal-Mart ensues. Going into that store was like turning my back on everything I have learned this far in college. After mentioning this to my sister, she replies "Well, now you're learning how to rebel!" Very true. She had a baby four months ago and somehow manages to be about 10 pounds smaller than me. Still, nothing is more fun than home-made cookie dough, like the kind we used to steal out of the fridge as kids. I must leave, but not before giving my niece 100 more kisses on each toe. Phoenix offers me no inspiration whatsoever, only burning migranes which take over any will to create. The only sane time is the night, which I have been trying to avoid. Making decisions for myself seems to be the theme of today's study. Either I never know or I always lie. Bardoff says I should concentrate more on commitment, that going to three colleges for one semester each, is the "worst plan ever". Lguit says that it's better to keep trying to find something that works better, then to stick with something I know does not work. I'm going with that one for now. For being engaged twice by the strawberry age of 20, I think I've had enough run arounds with commitment for awhile. I tell Caydence about New York in Spanish and plan when I am going to stop settling for the men I am only 25% in love with. Quarters never buy anything flavorful.

.:.:.

Looking at this child is like looking at every baby picture ever taken of me in the face. What's weird is that she is capable, in baby form, of expressing every fear and turmoil that I have. Whats weird is that she is capable of experiencing pleasure the same way. And, as my sister turns into a mother, she shields her face from the sun, she closes her eyes so that she can sleep, says she'll be there to keep safe-and one day those hands will slip away, and not fade, for nothing will have made more of an impact. And no one wants to think about it now, but I see it too much in its impermanence.