Dear Diary, I’m Bored
There are a million things to tell you, then I pull this open and all I can think to say is "whatup?"
I am bored in suburban towns. Seeing houses and families and all the lights go off at 11 pm and come on at 7 (or earlier, idk) and the kids go to school and I confuse everyone's car for my mom's and so on.
It's so creepy/freaky to me. Freaks me out.
Staten Island is particularly bad. Particularly and very. There's, like, nothing cultural here... or fun, really. Nothing uniquely fun in SI --Like I have fun shooting pool but I can do that anywhere.
That's as elaborate as I can be. I can say with 100% conviction that I do not like this place. It even makes me unhappy. I guess the flavor has always been this bad; I haven't stayed here longer than a week since I was 18. And I declared that would be the case since I was, idk, talking.
On talking:
I probably started getting pretty good at it around then.
I'm going to write here a lot more. I used to do this sort of thing a lot. Anyway...
Oh, right, a solution to my problems...
Had to critique a header design. I actually love that part of my work, conceptual design, but don't know jack about implementation.
The thing is that I have to figure out a place I want to live. I've had my guidelines set as:
- pretty air/outside (the lack of which is why I'm over NYC right now)
- awake at night (the lack of which elsewhere is the reason few places compare to NYC, for me)
On night, that's when I get most inspired. Other times I suddenly feel the urge to go shopping late at night, and the best most spots can afford me is a 9pm Target run. Negative.
Perhaps I shall make a list of the places that should meet these 2 qualifications. Iceland. IDK. Google says Thailand, West Palm Beach, Fl, and Orange County, CA. And on Iceland, this is amazing:
I know where I'll visit first.
Happiness!
Dear Grandma
Dear Grandma,
I can say beyond any shadow of a doubt that you are the most pure, genuine, beautiful person who will ever grace my life.
In fact, you are light, pure light.
I promise that should I ever feel negative, worried, or sad, I'll think of you, and how even though you must (being human) have felt those ways sometimes, you never seemed to. Or you know what? Maybe you never did, or at least didn't during the time that I knew you. Maybe you're self-actualized and love incarnate, and only act in and out of love. That's all I ever saw you do, anyway, and you're the only person in the world about whom I can say that. And even though I am crying now, I also promise that I'm not sad. You're at peace.
I'm lucky. Lucky that you're my grandma and that I got to hang out with you so much all throughout my life. Lucky to have made you laugh and wink at each other when we teamed up to get under mom's skin (but just a little bit, because you, a mother too, would only let my mom get so irked before you jumped to her aid).
I'm lucky that I wrote you a variation of this letter not-too-long ago and got to read it to you and see you smile.
I'm tempted to share cute stories about you being the only chick on the beach in a 2-piece, but they're not what flood my heart and mind when I think of you. There is no anecdote or metaphor for what you mean to me, except for maybe the pure light reference. Perfection, angelic... these are all still words, my attempt to quantify an essence. And I'll never be powerful enough to do it. No one will be. No artist, no language, nothing.
But, I plight myself by attempting because you deserve it, and more. And it's also for me, I'll admit that. I don't know what I'm hoping to get out of it but surely, it's something. I'm no where near as selfless as you are.
I know you said you'd have liked to see me be a nurse or doctor and I'm sorry that I won't be. That's another example of the way you viewed the world (note: I know I'm mixing up the tenses when I speak to you. There's nothing I want to do about that other than go with it), with preeminence. What can you give, how can you help, and how can you teach me to be a person who also lives that way. Robert got more of it than I did, I'll admit that too, but it's still there. While I'm on it I'll also admit that the natural impulse to be pure and "ethical" isn't powerful within me. But while it isn't instinctual behavior it is learned, and it is learned from you. Maybe all in all that is the thing I'm most grateful to you for (but it's hard to choose).
This is all I can muster right now gram, but I'll write to you soon, okay?
I love you.
- Laura
