Thursday, January 04, 2007
Now here you go again
You say you want your freedom
Well who am I to keep you down
Its only right that you should
Play the way you feel it
But listen carefully to the sound
Of your loneliness
Like a heartbeat.. drives you mad
In the stillness of remembering what you had
And what you lost...
And what you had...
And what you lost
Thunder only happens when its raining
Players only love you when they're playing
Say... women... they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean...you'll know
-Fleetwood Mac - Dreams
Fleetwood Mac makes me feel ever so slightly better.
[Quick post from parental residence (no longer my home)]
Yesterday someone jumped off the bridge by my parents' apartment building, landing in the rhododendron bushes of our garden. The police car and ambulance parade looked like CSI, only sadder, and without Catherine in her cleavage-exposing work clothes. The unfortunate soul was covered in a white sheet. Several hours later I noticed that someone had left him a pot of red geraniums and several flickering white tea lights. They were all knocked over and extinguished when I went back there today. Casualties of a cold and windy January, like the jumper.
Spent way too long reading Lauren Greenfield's Thin at the bookstore today. I adored Girl Culture, and Thin is equally brilliant, but oh so sad. Maybe reading books about anorexia is an unlikely cure for depression, but it did give me a bit of perspective. At least I have no desire to starve myself.
Please don't think that Claire is mean and cruel. She's not. She just has virtually no experience being depressed, or even temporarily sad. And I can't expect her to empathize with me anymore than I can understand why someone would jump off the bridge into my parents' garden. It's happily beyond her realm of experience, and I envy that.
Apparently she misses me. Or so she texts.
Things will get better. At least that's what I keep telling myself.