New Year's Eve and it's hard to believe
another zodiac has gone around.

While you drank yourself high on hoping
and watched the ceiling spin from the ground.

Counting down from ten it's time
to make your annual prayer.

Secret santa in the sky
when will I get my share?

Then you tell yourself
what you want to hear.

Cause you have to believe.

This will be my year.

This will be my year...Semisonic


Go Ahead Punk: E-Mail Little Squaw @ squawpunch@hotmail.com

AIM: gimletgurl7 (Remember when she used to be here?)

Tuesday, December 23, 2003

Do you feel so unsure when the world beats down your door?
But to know her was to say, she blew me away...
-The Candy Skins

Gilly says that we have too much stuff. Or in his words "crap". But I don't think he means "we" I think he means "me". Admittedly I do have boxes full of stuff that basically represents my formative years. As shown via notes and letters, etc... I saved all my letters. Not cards though. I only save a few cards and mostly from people who have died or people that when they die I will want to have an example of their love as written in their own hand for me.

So I have all these boxes. And they really are mostly Junior High and High School. From that period where I was sure that if I was in another place I could really be myself. That I would be different. I don't necessarily believe that now. Sure if I'd had rich parents and a mall and the ride to said mall I would have been outfitted in exactly what I wanted to wear. Mostly I would have worn pleated skirts with kick ass boots or strapless, flowered dresses with a crinolines underneath and high heeled mules in Junior High. I probably would have been a Madonnaette. Or I could be wrong. I just remember this one dress that I saw in 17 Magazine which was gorgeous. I wanted it so badly. Not only was it strapless but it was short with a crinoline. I still lust for it now all those years later.

I would have had a dreamy accent and longer eyelashes. I would have been mysterious and boys would find me intriguing. Maybe I would have had a tan (then again that's genetics and has nothing to do with geography)...My boyfriend would have been a skate rat with a a floppy hair cut and cool t-shirts...scabs on his knees and amazing taste in music that would eventually be called "alternative". Eventually being a mere year or two away...

And in high school I would have had an artsy (but not so artsy as to be wimpy) alterna boy who wrote me poems and rode a motorcycle to school, but was still a bad ass. He would have liked hip hop as well and wouldn't be afraid to dance. He would have been a good dancer and not in a gay wave his arms and do half splits kind of way. We would have rip roaring arguments during which we would pour out our hearts and then afterward fall into each other's arms. In the ultimate world I would have been dating Evan Dando and he wouldn't be a drug user or slut (he was at the time). I would have been a firey heartbreaker. I would have been Winona Ryder in Heathers. I would have Samantha Mathis in Pump Up the Volume. Or I had I known about her then, I would have been Parker Posey in every movie she's ever done. Fiesty, quirky cute and smart.

In reality I was different. At least that's what my closest friends from back then tell me. So different in fact that having a boyfriend was out of the question. Apparently I was too intimidating. Something about reading too much and talking about things that people didn't understand or know about. It was a very small town that I was in and it was all before the internet. I kind of had a black market culture thing going on via my brother, my books, my magazines, the propaganda I opted in to receive via mail and well, the movies that I loved and the people that I admired. I wanted to be swept off my feet, but apparently people thought that I was a wielding broom. Whether it was to sweep someone off their feet or to carry me away is undetermined.

So I have these boxes and part of me wants to just chuck them out the window and be free and clear of it all, but sometimes I just want to crawl inside of them and fill my head with all the yearning and dreaming and fuzziness it all used to provoke. Or maybe I want to still be melancholy and think that I was being short changed and that I was so much better than the situation and the "fakes" I was surrounded by.

I should have liked myself more back then. I should have never thought I was fat. I should have realized I wasn't ugly.

I should have just relaxed.

I should have kissed the boys and made them cry.

I must have been a surpreme pain in the ass. I must have acted way too superior as a way of compensating for my insecurities. If I met myself now I would probably annoy the hell out of me. It's no coincidence that on of my brother's college roommates called me "attitude" back then.

I don't feel angry/wistful any more. I am much more rational in my desires. I know and believe that my life is better than it ever was and better than I could have ever hoped it would be.

A lot of the things I dreamed about doing I've done and there's a very strong likelihood that I'll do it all eventually. Plus my dreams have changed. They've become less about me and more about the bigger picture.

Though, I think I may have peaked at 27. And then again maybe I didn't.
posted by JustKeepMum on 12:40 PM