Monday. 12.8.08 8:42 pm
It is eight forty-two at night. The house is quiet. There is a spool of leather lace on the desk in front of me; I feel the need to pick at the sticker on the spool and pick it up.
Googly eyes spill out in a small clatter.
I break into uproarious laughter.
Technically yesterday, now.
Saturday. 12.6.08 10:56 pm
Saturday. 11.29.08 9:23 pm
There was this one thing my grandmum said about winter, when I was at her house, a couple days ago. My parents were talking to her about the early winter we're having, and she told us it had been nice until a couple weeks ago. "And then it just came down. Like a curtain," she said.
I think that quote will stick with me for a while. I hope. Maybe by writing it here, it can stay longer.
My dad couldn't handle himself, today. Last night was probably the last time he'll see his mother alive. He wouldn't eat breakfast and drove recklessly the entire way to the airport, where he found problems to curse at.
I can't blame him, but at the same time, he put my and MY mum in danger.
That's just not right.
But then I couldn't yell at him.
And then I started thinking about the difference between how we take death and how other cultures take it. I really wish I'd been raised with the mindset that this isn't the end.
Monday. 11.24.08 9:15 pm
Not the band, of course, hehe.
There was a train sitting right in my driving path, when I left school. I watched all the other cars go around and turn down this mysterious, dirt path with gravel strewn haphazardly, just enough to help you maintain friction.
I almost even considered putting the car in park so I could really wait for the train to pass.
But the newfound path looked so...there. I'd ridden or driven to school two years of my life, only to just now find a new path to freedom?
I put my turn signal on and followed the last two into the abysmal track.
It was a kind of long road, and I had a harder time controlling this huge thing encompassing my body--my car; some of you may know him as Charles or Devious Charles (if you're being formal). Dirt flew over my windshield. I couldn't see more than the car right in front of me, but there was still this feeling of calm and happiness bubbling into me. We took another turn, then came to a fork.
I signaled for the women turning my way to turn first. She smiled and waved, I smiled back, but too late.
But that's meaningless. We drove a little longer then wound under the tracks, finally over. We hit normal road again, after a couple holes in the path.
And I thought it was over, except I had no idea where I was, other than that I was turning onto the correct street; thank God I remembered my street names.
I took a left; no good. It didn't feel right (haha PUNNNN), for some reason. I trusted my gut and made a three-point turn in the middle of the road, not reckless, for once, minding my traffic.
Then I sped all the way down the road, which is truly the beauty of the country roads--no cops.
Things started to look familiar.
Then I was at the turn, knowing my exact path to home, only a few minutes behind schedule.
I turned the knob for my wiper fluid and for my music. My car boomed of success.
Charles, you are SO getting a car wash.
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