Sunday, January 14, 2001
i walked slowly home from katie's house, in no hurry to arrive at my house. i new that once i got here, my state of mind, finally calm and focused would be shattered to a billion peices, like glass on the sidewalk, by distractions and noise. it seems that this happens to me everyday. i will ride home on the bus, staring out of the window and putting my thoughts in a sensible order. i will get off the bus, adjusting my backpack, laden with books and homework, but my mind will be focused, on whatever topic it had dwelt upon previously. i will walk past the high school, ignoring the groups of adolescents participating in their infantile mating games, throwing snow and making excuses to touch, grab, throw each other. i will continue, unfazed, past a gaggle of gossiping girls, smoking cigarettes and assuredly feeling mature and appealing, with their nicotine and cell phones. i will hear swatches of conversation, intricately woven into the patchwork quilt of their life, their friends, their school. perhaps i will wonder if they really want to be there, or if they go home and write volumes of poetry, wishing that they had someone with whom they could entrust their real feelings, instead of being only able to back bite and critisize to win acceptance. i will not wonder this for long. i will pass them, my coat wrapped against my knees by the wind, then blown away again. i round the corner, emerging from the throng of loitering teens. i will cross the street, being careful not to slip on the ice. i will see paul and his adopted son, noel. i will wave hello and keep plodding forward. i will see the city workers, destroying my street, and i wonder when they will finish. i open the gate and walk into my back yard, a pitiful little square of earth that my mother uses for gardening in the summer. i will fish my keys out of my coat pocket, and unlock the door. i will walk up the flight of steps, and enter the kitchen. i will hastily remove my backpack, coat and drop my text books. i will write this down as speedily as i can, hoping to beat the distractions that will come. my brother will enter, perhaps turn on the television, or maybe he will greet me exuberently, cooing over the rat that sits bleary-eyed on my shoulder, just awoken from her afternoon nap. i will tell him testily to leave me alone for a little while, i need to concentrate. he will probably tell me that i'm acting like a bitch, and i will shoot an explicative back, or perhaps just roll my eyes and growl. my writing will reflect this.
i hope i've clearly shown you why so much of what i write here is somewhat negative. it's because silence is a rare commodity, and when i see it glimmering before my nose, i hold on by the skin of my teeth.
posted by emily oi! at 6:09:00 PM
0 comments
i walked slowly home from katie's house, in no hurry to arrive at my house. i new that once i got here, my state of mind, finally calm and focused would be shattered to a billion peices, like glass on the sidewalk, by distractions and noise. it seems that this happens to me everyday. i will ride home on the bus, staring out of the window and putting my thoughts in a sensible order. i will get off the bus, adjusting my backpack, laden with books and homework, but my mind will be focused, on whatever topic it had dwelt upon previously. i will walk past the high school, ignoring the groups of adolescents participating in their infantile mating games, throwing snow and making excuses to touch, grab, throw each other. i will continue, unfazed, past a gaggle of gossiping girls, smoking cigarettes and assuredly feeling mature and appealing, with their nicotine and cell phones. i will hear swatches of conversation, intricately woven into the patchwork quilt of their life, their friends, their school. perhaps i will wonder if they really want to be there, or if they go home and write volumes of poetry, wishing that they had someone with whom they could entrust their real feelings, instead of being only able to back bite and critisize to win acceptance. i will not wonder this for long. i will pass them, my coat wrapped against my knees by the wind, then blown away again. i round the corner, emerging from the throng of loitering teens. i will cross the street, being careful not to slip on the ice. i will see paul and his adopted son, noel. i will wave hello and keep plodding forward. i will see the city workers, destroying my street, and i wonder when they will finish. i open the gate and walk into my back yard, a pitiful little square of earth that my mother uses for gardening in the summer. i will fish my keys out of my coat pocket, and unlock the door. i will walk up the flight of steps, and enter the kitchen. i will hastily remove my backpack, coat and drop my text books. i will write this down as speedily as i can, hoping to beat the distractions that will come. my brother will enter, perhaps turn on the television, or maybe he will greet me exuberently, cooing over the rat that sits bleary-eyed on my shoulder, just awoken from her afternoon nap. i will tell him testily to leave me alone for a little while, i need to concentrate. he will probably tell me that i'm acting like a bitch, and i will shoot an explicative back, or perhaps just roll my eyes and growl. my writing will reflect this.
i hope i've clearly shown you why so much of what i write here is somewhat negative. it's because silence is a rare commodity, and when i see it glimmering before my nose, i hold on by the skin of my teeth.
posted by emily oi! at 6:09:00 PM
0 comments
