Another night reporting LIVE (when I should asleep!) from my dark, cluttered room - Mostly cluttered with books. So that part could be worse, right?
But anyways... gah, where to begin? There's so many small and medium blog post worthy events that have played out in the last 3 weeks. Yet none of them feel transcribable yet. I don't know why. Maybe I'm more tired than I realize - yes, it may be that. I'll just get out what I can for now. This will probably not be much.
My cousin reached out to me today. I haven't seen her in 5 years. I haven't seen any of my extended family in Pittsburgh since 2018.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my dad had never gotten the thousand mile away job offer that began their spirited southern adventures (Howdy!) and changed the fates of so many. I could have been a Pittsburgh girl... I spent so much time there growing up and am infinitely grateful.
I can't fully explain why I lock myself up in a stale, silent house in Dallas. A city sprawling with culture and possibility in unique ways... that I still don't engage with for the most part.
I don't want to be reminded of my golden past. Being young. Having hope. Possibilities. I especially don't want to be reminded of the things I didn't become. Or see all of the changes. Older generations spirited away.... I hate it.
I can't go back because I can't go back.
"The golden era."
How can I hate what was so beautiful and such a gift? I had the love and support every child should have. Brains. I was special. I know I am still special in my ways. (I have a new diary and I've already given it a title - "Something of the stars." I feel like I am. It'll end up being a literal bookend to my other diary - "More heaven than earth." )
My current diary is titled "The sanest thing in the world is love." That's one quarter of an Anne Sexton quote that has been circling the drain of my brain for several months. I thought I'd just slap it on this diary and call it a day.
I read an article that said "the most distant stars are intrinsically brighter, have more mass, and are therefore likely to die in supernova explosions."
Voila! "Something of the stars."
So I didn't mean famous. It isn't even that deep of a metaphor.
(Obviously all of this = sleepy sleepy ramblings.)
Goodnight!
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