Friday, July 28, 2006


Since this Sunday or so, I've felt a bit off. Off isn't the right word. Sad. Sad is closer. It's not that I haven't had some really wonderful moments, because I definately have. I had some really sweet really real times this week. I lived some edible hours out journaling in library mall with the sun shining and the breeze blowing. I laughed from the pit of my belly out in the rain yesterday, soaking wet on the front stoop under a green umbrella- just because the rain was so funny. But I often found myself feeling down. Again and again. Every day, I have wanted to cry, but haven't been able to. That's unusual for me. And it got worse and worse until last night.

I guess you could say I hit bottom, but that implies a bad thing and it wasn't. When all that sad stuff got let loose and ran off, I found I was very okay. Oddly enough, when my bundles of insecurities surfaced, I found I was very secure, indeed. When all my fears bubbled forth, I found myself unafraid.

I finished at work around 9:15 at night and decided to walk home. Usually I get a ride when it's dark out, but this time, I just wanted to walk. State Street was still bustling with boys on skateboards and girls on dates. I didn't have my iPod on. My mind felt clear and I liked it. When I turned onto Gorham, there was a car playing "Wonderwall" waiting to turn. I smiled because it was perfect.

"Wonderwall" is present in all sorts of places in my life. Places like the place I was last night. It's left prints. I remember it playing in Norway when I was 16, riding in the back of a car through the snowy mountains with Ragnhild, Torbjorn, and Karine feeling very alone. And then singing it with friends on the sunny southern coast at Skjaergards along with a guitar when I was really confused about life and love in general. I remember singing it along with Jean as we drove through the desert in South Africa. The passenger seat was on the left side of the car. I was pretty confused then, too.

When I heard the song, I felt connected to all those other moments. It was sweet. Very sweet. I smiled and thought all along Gorham.

Cassie was there when I got home. "How are you doing?" she asked.

"You know," I said, "I don't care how fucked up the world is. I don't care how fucked up I am or how much I fuck up. I just don't give a fuck. You know why? Because God is there. Right now, I don't even care if He's good or bad or if He loves me or His character, or any of that. He's there, and that's enough. You know, I'm not happy right now. I'm not. But, fuck it. I don't care how I am. Because beneath that any of that is joy. deep deep joy and that is untouchable. And you know, I may not feel happy, but I feel GOOD. I feel honest and I feel REAL. It feels good, Cassie. I like when I feel like this and I like when I say fuck and mean it. Sometimes I just need a good fuck."

"Some people might take that sentence the wrong way."

"I know it."

We laughed.

I slept well last night. And when I woke up I felt really fresh and good. This morning, Amy and I danced in the kitchen to U2 and the Verve. And I studied on my bed in the sunshine. All morning I felt free and honest and real and joyful and happy, and, fuck, I felt alive.

Last night, Cassie said the only road to freedom is revival, and the only road to revival is death. I didn't understand what she meant entirely. The word "revival" is a bit too christian-ese for my taste and my ears have a habit of turning sideways when I hear it.

But I've been thinking about it. She was right. Thank God for death. And thank God for life. And, fuck, thank God for fuck.

Peace, everyone. Have a really GOOD day, whatever that looks like.


At 29 July, 2006 04:49, Anonymous sr looney said...

....I guess I'll think twice next I ask "how are you doing"....(hee-hee ;o])

At 29 July, 2006 05:00, Anonymous sr looney said...

you realize, of course, you'll likely revive (as in revival!) that whole discourse on the fword (you know, how versatile it is, blah blah).....I do think it is a rather fascinating word....phonetically pretty unique and I often think it would be interesting to somehow trace its origin and its usage/cultural roots over did people/cultures come to find that particular group of letters and that particular sound offensive?

Glad to hear you're revived!


Post a Comment

<< Home