Reflections

So I was just looking at some pictures on JB's myspace page, of her sitting in some kind of fancy black formalish dress, on a swing, and she looks about 15 or 16 years old. She looks all melancholy in the picture, and it made me stop and ponder things. I looked like that at one point during that period in my life. Hell, there was even a time when I could be found in the middle of the night, swinging on a park swing, thinking what I'm sure I believed were deep, meaningful thoughts. Not so sure now that they were deep in and meaningful, but back then I probably thought they were.

But it strikes me, looking at that picture of her, that there are no such photographs of me. No such evidence of me. I was never that innocent. I might have spent time swinging on a swing, thinking deep thoughts at night, but the innocence wasn't there. And there were no friends around to catch it on film. And by the point that there might have been someone around with a camera? Chances are, by that time, there were enough drugs to float a barge, and enough alcohol to float a cruise ship.But nobody to care. Party hearty, right? Not the best of decision making on my part then. And I doubt I even cared. Nobody to answer to, and nobody to care what I did.

And that's a trait I always kept. If you don't let anyone close, there's no one to hurt you. Oh, there are always people around. Looking back, scores of people around, in fact. To the outside eye, my place seemed like a revolving door most of the time. I was the local teenage runaway halfway house. In my mind I guess I was trying to save someone, the way no one ever tried to save me? Something along those lines at any rate. At some point, you have to stop fighting to save everyone else, and save yourself, and I eventually did that. I don't have a halfway house anymore. Not for wayward teens. Not for anyone.

And it's easier to not let anyone in, not really. Some wounds don't heal. They scar over, but the cuts remain. Some things you learn, and those lessons stay with you.

Sometimes you forget. And sometimes you remember. And sometimes you need to remember, and you fight for the memories.

Secret word of the day

I don't even know where to begin this evening. The current household score rests thus: Ezzie: 4 - Headphones: 0. I'd have to say Ezzie is winning. Danny's promised me a shiney new pair tomorrow, since he left the latest pair hanging from the treadmill, and the cat chewed through yet another cord. I have that stupid song "and the cat came back, the very next day, the cat came back he just couldn't stay away" in my head in reference to those headphones. At least he has good enough manners to only eat the headphone cords. Given the amount of other household cords that are within that stupid cat's reach, I should be grateful the only cords he likes are the cords to my headphones, which are the cheapie headphones I prefer. I can only imagine the pain in the ass it would be if he decided he liked the taste of, say, the Mac power supply cord, or something along *those* lines.

The wasp issue in the bathroom appears to be under control. Maintenance was in here earlier today patching over the hole in the wall, and there aren't any more wasps, as far as I know. Not entirely certain of it, because I wasn't here, but I'm told he saw none, and the problem has been taken care of. I hope so, anyhow. Bugs are bad. Yup. Bad.

I feel all scatterbrained, in a weird way (zing! word of the day!) and I'm not altogether sure why. It's as though I'm standing outside of myself, watching everything just sort of putter on around me. I'm watching everyone else doing their normal everyday routines, and I'm doing my normal routine, and everything is as it should be but something is off center. Only I can't explain what that something is. It's very peculiar. Nothing is wrong, per se. There aren't any large black looming clouds on the horizon. The world has not stopped revolving. The sun rises in the east, sets in the west. My stupid cat still jumps on my head every morning. But something is just...weird.

I have watched "Friends" many times, in reruns, over the years. It is playing as background in my apartment while I blog right now, and I can't even *hear* it, because I have in earplugs, and it has captions. And yet, even though I know what's going on, and I'm barely watching it, I still find myself sucked into this inane show. It's ridiculous. I have no idea why it's so fascinating. It's crazy. Why is this show so appealing? Thoughts? Anyone?