So this weekend I watched a lot of Psych and read a little of Lady Chatterley's Lover and Little Nothings. I also started up Woman Warrior by Maxine Hong Kingston. I started to remember being in school and having reading assignments, and then I daydreamed I was a teacher and I felt all impassioned about trying out different things to get kids involved in their education. And I started to think about how this stuff actually prepares them for life, and what they could do with it. And somewhere I got lost on a tangent about things missing in my own journey into adulthood.
I can pick up faint scents of my youth, the chilled mornings, foggy wakefulness. The way my brain had a way of separating itself from mundane reality, and seeing something amazing in the color of a book spine, or the reflection of a thorn bush in an oily street puddle. And how in the daily social routines I found myself idealizing relationships, hoping for intimate breakthroughs explosions of romance or camaraderie.
Uploaded by ishidahiroyasu on Nov 9, 2009
So here's another Sunday falling away into the pink horizon. I'm staring at the fading light wondering about the end of my life, whenever that may be. I'm hoping there will be a lot more adventures, laughs, and quality time spent with loved ones. I'm hoping for sappy romantic moments, and feeling found in a woman's eyes and arms. I'm hoping for children curled up in my lap, dancing around me, or holding my hand to cross the street; they are my children, my children's children. I'm imagining a life so distant from where I am today, where struggling to arrive is something silly I did a long time ago, some patch of silver hair long since fallen out in the shower. In this future, everything is alright and the Sunday dusk is the loving embrace of my parents whom I've all but forgotten.
Uploaded by nick40nick40 on Sep 24, 2010