You are only young once, and I am seized with the desire to document it, devour it, write down this madness of life. I want to fly higher, every new day again. I am seized witht the desire to be that person, that young one who has experienced life as fully as possible. I want the nitty-gritty, the down-and-dirty, because that is where the beat of life resides, the beat of my heart. I want to document this, with this pen that produces such beautiful writing. I want to devour it, eat up the messiness and chaos, give it a home in my stomach and let it settle into some sort of peace. The balancing act. I want to experience joy with my friends, in places you can't help but remember and be in awe of. Of times where everything is perfect. I want it all. I think I'm ready for that tattoo, showcasing me to the world. This is who I am, and it's messy, and sometimes it's ugly, but this is my life, and this is my skin, and I want to write my life story on it, in ink as well as wrinkles and callouses and scars. This is my skin and my story. I am the main character in my life. I'm not a supporting character, someone in the background. This is who I am, and where I come from. And I am young, and I will revel in my youth, in the joy of being young and free. I love this pen, and how black the ink is, and how it stains my hands, a sort of semi-permanent testament to this act of recording. And these ink-stained fingers are me. This is me, and I am not apologizing for who I am. My head is bursting with ideas, bursting with plans and life to be lived, my life for me to live.
Whenever I feel like this, I try to calm down after a while, but last time I had the brilliant realization that there is no real reason to calm down. In fact, even though I'm super emotional right now, I love it. I love living. Forget that vicariously living bullcrap. I want to live and feel and explore this place I call home. This state that is mine, this place that I love. I am a Michigander, this is where I'm from, this is who I am.
I live feeling, so much. I want to fly higher, every new day again. Also, the scritch-scratch of this pen is really, oddly satisfying. I want to do, to produce, to make stuff. This year is going to be a year of doing, of activity. I'm going to produce, not consume. I have things to do, life to plan and live and riff and improvise. This is my life, and it's time that I do something with it. I want to bring this passion I'm feeling right now to bear in all aspects of my life. When someone describes me, I want passionate to be one of the adjectives used. *Deep inhale* I am so full of life right now. I am so pumped for this next 358 days. Each day I want to have done something. I feel like I should stop to pray and stuff, but this flow of sanity is too precious. Plus, I kind of feel like this is a sort of praying. Like God is in this and is with me just as much as if I was reading his word.
There are 24 hours in every day, and I want to use every one of them being productive and really living. Because once again, this is my life and it's my responsibility to live it. My privilege and right to live it. This emotion, and joy, and excitement seems like pure sanity. Oh man! I'm going to have to copy this into my journal. Yeah, I'm listening to, who else but James Duke? Cause when I'm in this mood, only his music fits. Fancy that. I've used so much ink! Woah, I didn't buy extra ink because I wasn't expecting how quickly I'd use it. Oh well, I have blue ink. Which I don't/won't like as much as this black, but that's okay. I'm going to pour myself some tea. I think I'm coming down from the peak of my "I want to LIVE!!!" excitement. Which I suppose is good, because I do need to go to sleep at some point. I'm going to go to a couple of museums tomorrow. I'm pretty excited. I'm going to go all by myself and it's going to be really, really great. I'm going to enrich my life. (My ink is now half gone...) I'm excited about that, and everything else I'm going to do tomorrow. Probably read stuff for school. But that's okay, because I'm excited about learning as well. Because I'm going to be passionate about everything in my life. I'm going to pare, prune down my life to what's really important to me. Love, that's it, isn't it? I love my life, myself, and most importantly, God. And I think this joy about this year comes from God. Well, it's joy, so it pretty much has to come from God. Thank you Lord! So much love, all the time.
Yesterday, as I was walking, I pretended that the giant fluffy snowflakes floating down were angel kisses, kisses from God landing feather-light on my nose, cheeks, eyes. The thought made me smile and kept me smiling for a while. The mysterious smile of a person who has a happy secret. And today, while walking in the snow, the idea for a poem came. And I wrote it down and I'm pleased with it. It's perfect and wintery and magical. And I produced something. I made the world a better, happier place. Or at least, I made Kiersten happy, which amounts to basically the same thing. Every day, I want to be able to look at my day and point to one thing I'm proud of. I'm going to keep a record of these things. I seem to get the most brilliant ideas at one in the morning. The idea/decision to fast this month was made at about this time Monday night. And I'm okay/happy with that decision.
And yeah, the poem that I wrote is about love and togetherness and wishing your beloved was there with you. It's about the idea of real love and sticking to it and being comfortable and happy with each other. Not needing to talk to communicate. It's about a Smultronstalle, and bringing those you love into it.
Tonight, my brain and pen are running at the same speed. It's marvelous. It's right. Tonight, this, feels right. Feels correct. This music, this blackcurrant tea. This pen and notebook. These christmas lights. This time, 1:30 feels right. This is why I love winter. I love winter because of this mood, and how I can look out the window at the whiteness on the ground and know how cold it is outside, and how warm it is inside. I love it, so much. Oh, and another thing that's right is this pink sweater Grandma gave me. It's like a hug from my family every time I wear it. Plus, it's a good color for me. My tea is all gone... I love how this is so stream-of-consciousness. This is so great. I can't wait to get out and start doing stuff. I'm starting to feel sleepy, but I don't want to let this mood go. I don't want to say goodbye to this.
I love to devour books and movies and assorted things, so much so until they become part of the way I think and speak, until I don't remember where they come from because they're just a part of me. Until the words become part of my cadences, part of my speech. Until I don't realize that I'm quoting things. I have so much to devour this year. So much to take in and make a part of me. And I'm excited about life! Wherever this lust for life comes from, I hope it sticks around.
"I've felt alive before but I'm sane this week. Even hard labor feels good. Even staying up late cramming is rewarding and makes me radiate some sort of weird excitement. I can't decide what to credit this sudden "lust for life" to, but I'm surprised and delighted at its persistence and I hope that it remains with me.
I want to fly higher, every new day again."
No comments:
Post a Comment