Alas, A New Decade

Everyone loves a sin, no matter how small.

Writing from a diner that serves humongous pies on beautiful plates and hand churns milkshakes in real time, pouring it in a glass cup with whipped cream, a cherry, and a red and white striped straw. I’ve been here for a while; it’s sort of my favorite past time, haunting places. With a book, iPad, and pen, I’m kept busy for at least three hours. Maybe four if I’m in a good mood. And I am in a good mood. I’m twenty today. So that’s cause enough for four hours, no? Anyways, the diner’s bustling with conversation and laughter. It’s hands down the loudest diner I’ve ever been to in my life. I got two and a half hours of reading out of the loudness. I love it. I haven’t had headphones on at all today, and now it’s night, and it’s still been feeling like I’m listening to some form of music. Maybe the world’s music? Maybe. I love it. My tails been tucked under my ass all day, but it was important, very important, and I’m glad I’m alone. Yes I did cry, but I’m grateful for being able to cry about this and nothing else. I’m grateful and silent, unusually so, and I’m twenty. Whatever that should mean for me.

And now I return, in the Japanese friendship garden, with a maple sage latte, and at least fifteen bugs circling around the trees behind me. I have a turtleneck peacoat on and I must say, it’s too hot for a turtleneck peacoat and a maple sage latte. I could rectify this situation by simply removing my peacoat from my back, but I will not. I digress. I am very physically uncomfortable but very mentally contented. And that’s enough for me. I’ve been on a noise ban. Lately I’ve been feeling that everything is a little too extreme, and too loud, and life is better enjoyed with no background music. The world provides it’s own music, I’ve learned. Though, right now I have one wire headphone in which is singing Fiona Apple in my ear as I write to you, and I’ve accepted that too. I’m beginning to think I’ve accepted everything. What’s the next step after acceptance? Does no one ever get there so the rest is left unwritten? Or is acceptance the last step? If it is, no it isn’t. I’m contented but I am not adequately happy. There’s a difference. If acceptance equals contentment, what is happiness’ equal? But then, who am I to ask? Well, everything. I’m absolutely everything in my world view, and perhaps absolutely nothing in yours. But I’m not standing where you are. Doesn’t perspective make the world insanely small? Or is it me continuing to shrink everything around me to make myself appear larger than life itself? I digress. This is the first birthday I’ve ever had where I’ve felt a difference of some kind. An extreme shift. Normally I’d be frightened, but, disruptive as it may be, the shift is insanely quiet. And so, I reckon I won’t notice all the effects until they’re set in stone. And as I’m writing to you I’m remembering my unwavering passion for writing. My unwavering love of literature and expression. I’m thinking if I wrote and read more I’d unlock true happiness in my contentment. And so, now I’m beginning to believe happiness’ equal is the constant pursuit of passion.

Again, I write to you in a rundown theatre watching Hamnet. I got a ticket for the very back row of the theatre because god forbid someone sits next to me. When I resolve to be alone, that’s how I like to be. Alone. I don’t mind casual conversation; making someone laugh in passing - but that’s about the extent of it. Two hours alongside a person I don’t know, listening to them chew and breathe, I’d rather not. Anyways, I got all the things. Something sweet, something sour, popcorn no butter, and a cherry vanilla diet coke. I like to cosplay a glutton sometimes. I guess everyone loves a sin, no matter how small. I barely made a dent in my “things” though. But it was the comfort of them being there. You understand? Hamnet was devastating. It’s probably my film of the year. Which is insane for me; the way I view films like I breathe oxygen. I went into it completely blind, and left consumed with grief and an entire new outlook on life. I went to my hotel and felt an overwhelming fear that I didn’t know enough, and a surety that I held the grief of the entire world in my heart.

Alas, I am at my final resting place. For the night, at least. I am in complete silence, and the room is relatively dark, except for one lamp, illuminating the right side of the room. I’m hunched over at my desk; if Catherine could see me now she’d beat on me about my posture, but I suppose some things just will never change. I’m writing, of course. In silence, of course. That seems to be all I do lately, sit in silence. Write. I think this year is all about silence and observation for me. I think it’s all about learning, acceptance, and reservation. But that’s just what I need. I think, its important to be all quiet, pensive, and lonely. And so, that’s what I am, all of the time.