December 27, 1998

Picture this, my dear reader. I'm sitting on the floor, leaning against my bed. Only I would opt for the hard wood over the fluffy mattress. My notebook is propped on my knee, my green pen glides across its pages, scribbling words and crossing out mistakes (two so far- I must remember how to write one day). Shawn Colvin is blasting from my stereo- the volume turned up four whatever one might call em's, the regular blaring volume seeming 'quiet' tonight. I'd rather be engulfed in Shawn's tunes than hear my brother's music from across the hall. I swear, if I were my parents, I'd move out.

This is the third time I've attempted to write this week's entry. Damn illegal operations.

So. The year is coming to an end. The lovable part of me is cheering this on in an Anne Shirley/ Jane Eyre kind of way. At first, I actually thought 1998 had been cruel to my, sending me evils to break my spirit. Now, though, it's quite apparent that this past year has been pivotal. The point being, every evil failed. At the moment, I'm feeling tentatively happy, hopeful, and good. Not just because of the beat pulsing through my veins, either. But you stop and question me- 'tentatively happy?' Well, yeah, in one most important area. We'll touch on it and then move on.

My friends and I fought more. And I'm not talking the run-o-the-mill people I laugh and eat lunch with, or even the close ones I hang out with. I'm talking the very few with whom I share a golden bond- the ones running on three years or so. I don't know why we went at it the way we did, but I have a feeling it was, in the long run, over trivial things that erupted into all importance after being shrugged off for too long. Yep. If I didn't hit the nail on the head with that, I at least grazed it. So far, we've gotten to the point of identifying our new alarming tendency, but have taken next to no measures to stop it. It all stands rather 'iffy' at the moment, and I find I'm watching myself to prevent further disruption. For the person who remembers the first day she fought with these guys (January 9, 1997), this circumstance is especially nerve-racking. What to do? Change, of course. I am, tentatively, and getting happier about it.

I'm such a liar. "We'll touch on it" that seemed more like shallow analyzing to me. Ah, well. I guess we should move on anyway.

OK, now onto why I'm totally cool about this year, and will miss actually miss it. I found a voice, a nice snugly place in the world for it (no one adores Ob like I adore Ob), and the will to shape life instead of letting it trample on me. Before, I had apologized for my self- skewed existence. Now, I value myself, and like the skewed things about me. I don't have the old need to conform or find acceptance in minds I wouldn't touch with a 37.5 foot pole. I have the acceptance I value, and don't need any other. I look out for myself, and ignore the exclamations of those looking out for their ignorant reputations. Maybe I was always like this, to an extent. The difference today is that I have a little more intelligence, a source of reasoned logic to back me up. If there was one thing I would change about myself (there is, multiplied many times over) I would open up more. In response to my common claim that no one understands me, a friend told me that I "hide it." Well, I think I'd like to prove him wrong. If it doesn't start a fight, that is. (c:

I went to Washington, D.C. I was admitted to the hospital, and actually felt affection towards the plush Pooh bear I received (usually, I can't stand the bear, but the sight of him in bandages with crutches made me smile). I experienced my first season of finals, my first rock concert, and my first taste of hurtful harassment from trusted sources. I played tennis and swung, sung, and [figuratively] flew late at night. I stupidly and unknowingly tarnished my name, and fought like a meek dirty beast to get it back. I threw myself into a new issue, and am in the midst of wading through the opinions I read to form one of my own. Be assured, I'm tired, and my voices are asking to be hugged and comforted, but as that's not likely to happen, I'll just welcome the new year with a smile and a rousing chorus of "Aud Lang Syne" (or whatever it's called- does anyone really know all the words, correctly?).

A few quotes for you tonight. Of course, my dear Shawn Colvin, from the album Fat City, "Orion in the Sky": 'But I love you baby/ And I know by and by/ We gonna find a way to heaven/ Just like Orion in the sky./ He can walk upon the water/ He can shine for everyone/ But can he protect us baby/ From all the sad things we've done' Oooo, that really hits home, doesn't it (of course, I'm only talking to the other kindred souls who have looked up at him on a cold winter's day, waved hi, stopped, and told him you were okay) And now, from my "Lonesome Loathes" notebook from last year: "Truly, this has been a hellish year. I've never ever thought so much to myself as I have this year. I've never ever shown my true self to people as much and I have this year. Make you want to look back and say, 'Oh, God! What have I done?'" Ha! Now, if that's not quirky, I don't know what is! Love ya, listener.@--> Ms. Rose