Chasing sequences of scenes, having a gravitation towards the something, and writing about them is a theme more than seventeen layers and surely more years than perhaps is even known in the depth of... the abyss that is me.
This note was written on October 7th, 2008 at 1:34 PM about a former lover who was not Stars. There are sentiments within this that are very similar in theme towards that and the other romances I've had in my tenure. Enjoy if ye will.
High Fidelity. My favorite movie. “Ray” comes in to confront Rob. 4 different versions. Fantasy fantasy. 2 possible realistic.
A baseball game at the end of the summer. Newfound. Fresh. Warm Santa Anas. A sea of red hats. Momentum. The crowd in an uproar. The bases loaded.
He subtlety nudges her. And she looks up at the scoreboard.
“[boys name]He loves [girls name] her.”
She blushes and half covers her face. It may be a bit childish of a reaction but it is what it is.
He takes her face in his hands and he kisses her. The people around them clap.
The start of something…absolutely amazing.
A very determined girl lays in bed, pondering her thoughts. She looks up at paper lanterns… wishing they were lit.. imagining she was laying in the grass or on a beach, looking at a sea of stars. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen. She’s finally getting comfortable of being alone- even if she’s not been completely alone.. really ever. She feels incredible with him. She thinks about him all the time:
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Writing. Travel. The ocean. Technology The future. BoosterG
It seems petty. It seems childish. She smiles everytime she thinks of him… of when she reminisces the times with him… of the times she wants to spend with him.
A girl with many choices. Of pressure to take the paths that others may want. Of you, or you, or you. A scared little girl. The only steps she’s completely sure of.. are the ones she takes alone. Because she’s the only person she really has ever been able to believe in. Because even if people have believed in her, she looked within first.
Firecrackers in a night sky. Crisp night air. Hands held. Bubbles blowing. Pinwheels and dancing. Ribbons flying in the wind. Kites. Candles. Dewdrops. Kisses under a weeping willow tree. Names etched and frozen in time.
An old woman listens to her granddaughter talking about politics. Of talking in a way that fights her cultural background. She curses the girl.
“Someday you will love that of which you talk so lowly of.”
The girl shakes her head, ever doubtful.
A comic shop. A little girl in pigtails with her daddy. She smiles through loose and missing teeth. He grabs a book, and perches his daughter on his shoulder. He opens it and points… tells her these tales of fantasy. He lives by them- the words ever crafting his being and his daughter’s too. She idolizes her daddy, for he is her real hero. Someday someday someday.. maybe she will meet a boy to be this comic book hero.
A wee tot looks up at what seems to be a mountain of a dresser. On top is a black and white television and an Atari 2600. She wanted to change the game to Super Pitfall. Rock climbing it is. She reached for the drawers and started her way up the great mountain. Rustling trembles. Avalanche. The dresser had fallen. Her parents ran into the room, worried about the little girl. They moved the dresser off her. The girls reaction? Changed the video game of course, and continued playing as if nothing had happened.
A black haired twenty something ethnic boy walks up to a door with a single white rose. He has a nerdy but fashionable tshirt on and jeans. He’s not GQ but that doesn’t bother her. He has a way with words and stories… they’d written letters and talked for hours before meeting. It was built up. The sensations.. the rush of it all.
He takes her hand and brings her on a random adventure. He took her to places that reminded her of her childhood. Places that are important to him. He wants to show her everything. He revels in the moments where the glint hits her eyes and she glows with the new experience.
He wavers in fantasy and reality. Surely, this can’t be real or even lasting.. he once told her that “the light that burns twice as bright burns half as long. But what a sight to see for that half as long time period. What a great way to live.” Oh what little did she know then.
We lay tangled in arms talking…
him:”I think about you all the time..”
me:”Sometimes you’re kind of cute…”
him:”Sometimes, you’re perfect.”
me:”Sometimes you make me very happy…”
him:”Then I’ll have to work on that. I want to always make you happy.”
Breakfast at Tiffanys. Masks. Smiling. Sometimes it’s fun to be someone else.
We were cuddling in the bed and messing around. I like to roleplay in the bedroom. Wigs. Slapping around. Dirty Dirty.
He put the blanket over us.
him:”You can pretend I’m someone else.”
me: “I could be so mean right now..”
She sees other lovers not because she needs them to be fulfilled. She sees them because she enjoys them. Each different, fresh and exciting. Each intelligent, charismatic, passionate and successful in their own right. So many choices.. yet never enough. The rush of it all excites her. She doesn’t have to chose and its both liberating and refreshing.
“You only let them get close enough that you can let them go.”
But that one… that one…
All of the scenes are true except 2. For however petty and silly as they may seem, daydreams are not all far from reality. They do not always have to remain within a fantasy. Where things are headed I’m not sure. They say in a movie the pieces ultimately foreshadow and shape the plot. It has. But in life, the ending? The beginnings? Are all still in the making.
Savor the moments you have as if they were both your first and your last. Make your own movie. Write your own ending. Dare to live happily ever after.