I’ve not done french in a long time, and I keep forgetting to grab the cds from my skinny gay friend, so I’m not sure how good my grammar is, buut my title says “This day”, which sounds nicer in French.
Even French sounds nicer in French. I mean, French vs. Francais? There’s no competition! “French” just sounds like a messy cheese sandwich. Francais(I don’t know how to put that little thing under the ‘c’) sounds like a smooth salad dressing. Who doesn’t love a good salad dressing? Messy cheese sandwiches, however, are much more debatable in terms of their lovability.
I want cheese now.
Have I mentioned I’ve gotten this recent desire to go to Paris? They way it’s talked about - and this issue of Iron Man(Fear Itself tie in) where he’s talking about how Paris is mostly stone architecture(fine. I get my facts from comics instead of, say, a travelogue. Sue me. And I asked my parents about it to confirm, and they HAVE been there. And I’d look at pictures but they’re all touristy. Or of the cafes. I mean, they all look the same! Why do people keep clicking pictures ANYBODY could just google? Oh, look, the Eiffel tower, like I’ve not seen THAT a million times. Oh, people I know are right in front of it? Big whup(
Whup’s a fun word).) and I’m picturing old, old buildings that radiate hundreds of years of history like stones radiate heat on a hot day. I love old buildings made of stone. Or stuff that’s mostly stone. I should maybe do some research into this so I can know what I’m talking about in some vague sense or the other. And the way people talk of Paris and the Parisians - aside from the jokes about rude french people - make them sound so alive. And colourful. And the kind of people I might find my kind of people in.
And there’s a lot of cheese. I hear they have a lot of cheese there. An actual french lady told me this, so it is, of course, true.
I no longer wish to ramble about paris. Paris is far and distant and besides, I need a music player, so assuming I ever actually get around to SAVING up money for something, it’ll be that. Music before Paris. And I still have to learn le langue de francais so I don’t look like a complete tourist when I get there, given my inherent dislike for all tourists everywhere.
But enough of that. I entitled this post “Ce jour” and not whatever the french is for “Vague & Distant Dreams”. I’m not sure I actually want to write about this day, however - I don’t think it was a very eventful day. There was an exam, there was mcdonald’s, there were magazines, there was a few “That 70s Show” episodes. Maybe I simply wanted the words “This Day” to be up there and strong and bold and emphasized in the statementyness by a fullstop because I want to live in the present. To quit worrying about the future, or the past, or parallel timelines(“what might have been” for the rest of you). I want to be.. here.
I’m at a relatively stable point in my life. I mean, sure, I don’t have my spending under control, but for the most part, I’m in a stable place. I have friends I can count on to be my friend people, I’m not failing all my subjects, I don’t hate anyone and anyone pretty much feels the same way… I’m not depressed. I’m uncertain about where I’m going, but I bloody well know my feet are, and I’m trying to take it one uncertain step at a time. Best as I can. All things considered, I could be worse.
I’m not at the best place I could possibly be right now and that keeps nagging at me! I’m not content, I’m tolerating! I go through each day in a semi-conscious drift - I’m flying on auto-pilot!
Or maybe my discontent is in the feeling that I’m reaching out but nobody’s really reaching back. And the rare times they do I find them annoying on shallow premises. Basically, I am discontent and I am NOT doing all I can to rectify that and I think I am trying to, whatsit, ignore my guilt over my laziness by ignoring my discontent completely.
Only I don’t really seem to feel discontent - for the most part - until I sit down and actually think about my life. I’m confused. I don’t know… I -
gah. Ce jour est aujourd’hui, et quoi est est. I see a laptop in front of me, and a dirty, greasy dish by my side, with remnants of melted cheese on it - I had a cheese omlette for dinner. I had bread, too, and it’s crumbs are all over the plate.
There is a girl, and sometimes,
sometimes, I just want her near - put my arms around her and keep them there and warmly never have to let go. She is just a friend… it’s just her - there’s something about her that makes putting my arms around her feel like I could be happy never having to let her go. Like… when my arms are around her it feels like the world’s been like a bed without a pillow, and she’s the pillow. It’s just a feeling. It’s hard to let her go. She is filled with warmth fit to bursting. And I’m not sure what that is, where that springs from.
Maybe it’s because - she’s told me stuff, and from what I’ve been hearing, she loves unconditionally. She truly does for the ones she does - she is the gold standard for how unconditional love works. And she’s confused because a lot of people have hurt her a lot. Not that anyone with half a brain isn’t wading through confusing waters themselves.
There’s something… frustrating about her. Like.. she holds back. Like a mythical magic ball of love energy that could power a city for centuries is hidden bubbling just below the surface and she hides it and keeps it there.
We were talking this morning. Her eyes never looked at me. They looked elsewhere - somewhere far off in the distance of her head. And her eyes are like that a lot. I will keep an eye on her eyes more. Maybe, maybe, maybe one day I’ll have some inkling of what she’s looking at.
One of the newer voices in my head tells me that maybe someday I’ll know what’s my business and what simply isn’t. Till then, however, my eyes will be on hers.