me: I want a Serengeti
Andy: what's that?
me: an open plain of land with lots of exotic animals.
me: make it happen
Andy: Okay, I'll go buy a chunk of Kenya for you.
me: yay! how do we get it here?
me: aren't clouds weird? no really, they're weird.
Last night was the starlight parade, which is the second largest parade in Oregon. The theme had something to do with Pirate-y goodness, but even better was the Star Wars entry. Since my camera decided to a douche, I didn't get very good pix, but rest assured that there were wookies, jedis, and a shitload of ewoks. The Storm Troopers were pretty charismatic, though:
I'm watching Gladiator right now, which is about as close I'm going to get today to working on my paper for my Roman Life and Culture class.
I've found myself using LJ as a weird pseudojournal, not actually updating with things from my life, but rather updating feelings, expressions, alluding to events in my life but not wanting to actually say what's going on. Not recoring life's events. Is this because LJ is frivolous, or is it because I've actually discovered/developed a shred of privacy? I used to be a person of absolute here and now, events rather than ideas, the common person rather than a philosopher.
And don't worry, dear reader, I haven't become a person of philosphy or any higher thinking, confidentiality just seems a little more precious nowadays. Ew. I'm growing up.
Things happened this weekend. I feel like each and every time that happens, things get better, or something like that. I've come to the point where I just don't care about hurting any more, somehow I'm the better person for it. I'm done hurting, which feels better. I see my life before me, and whether it turns out like I envision it or it turns out like I'm scared shitless it might (not at the hands of any one person, but rather at genetics and health), there's still the part of me that knows that I have to believe that it will be that way for it to actually be that way.
It all sounds very obnoxious, introverted, and overanalyzed, and maybe it's just the painful overplanning of my part, but somehow it feels better knowing that I might beable to change my own destiny. To plan it. But isn't the point of destiny that it's decided for you before you even live it out? Or is that fate? is destiny fulfilled and fate what you succumb to?
My gramma sent me a letter (we correspond a couple times a month. I'm her favorite grandchild but *shh* don't tell anyone) with a response to my fear of my health: that she had read somewhere "as long as you're afraid, you're still alive." And while that is somehow comforting in the fact that yes, I'm still afraid, and yes, I'm still alive, there's no point in being alive if you're just going to live scared. So somehow the flawed logic still comforted me, but I'd like to replace the fear with something else. Loving? caring? *shrugs*
*points up* that was all a bunch of crap basically saying that leukemia scares me shitless and it's always a little black cloud in the back of my mind that I somehow *laughs at self* think I can manage if I try hard enough. *snorts* Humans are such small insignificant creatures. I guess it's easier to think that way than actually think we're a small small part of the 'verse. And that I can't change a damn thing.
Also, is it nice to know what the rest of your life will play out as...or is not knowing better? Is the knowledge the power, or is the unknown the spice?
Oh fuck. I'm babbling. Reader, you are a brave person to have read all that crap.s