August 13, 2003--
"I express myself through songs other people write.
As I sit on the cold, gray marble floor, I see things that haven't changed for years. Things have been added, moved, removed, but nothing has changed. My clean clothes are still in a basket, my stereo still plays sad songs, my Christmas lights are still on the wall. Wherever my room may be, it will always be me. It will always smell of cucumber melon and pear glaze, there will always be candles on every surface, there will always be sad songs. I think about how fast everything is about to change and I hang on to every line of this song. My childish clutter lies all over the floor, but my mind is no longer that of a child. I feel ready to move on, grow up; yet often I'd just rather stop time. The faces of my friends are no longer those in their 8th grade picture. A sad but peaceful feeling lingers softly in the air. Obvious signs of a pack rat are strewn all around the room. A cigar box full of ticket stubs, guitar picks, old notes, deflated balloons, deflated dreams, risen hopes-- all so valuable, but only to me.
Next year, I think maybe someone will have painted over my brown walls with the kiss marks. Someone may be playing happy music on my stereo. Someone may have my floor spotless and clean. Someone may have even brought in their own scent. But I will always have my room somewhere. It will be different, but I will always be the same."
end.
[the other night, Justin and I were going through old mixed cds to see which ones we wanted to keep. reeve oliver and some from 9th grade were crazy to listen to, so many resurfacing feelings.
jealous sound, song #11 came on and reminded me of the day I wrote the previous section. Steven had just introduced me to "recovery room", and I sat on my floor and listened to it over and over. It is the "sad song" I was referring to. My feelings at the time were about graduating and how strange it was to be in that place. It's funny how fast I thought things were changing then, when really I had no idea how quickly time could move.]
2 comments:
thanks for the birthday post btw... and the lakehouse hosting..
it's strange how closely connected many memories are to certain songs, almost like they become one entity. it's impossible to listen to Plant and Page's "Gallows Pole" without remembering playing cards in my friend's basement or when I think about hanging out in his basement that song will inevitably come to mind
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