baggage's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Not afraid of the roller coaster "MY God is so quiet, that sometimes I can not hear him when he speaks loud." So, hey-whateva-I'm back here again-wandering around and realizing that some of my favorite diaries haven't been updated in weeks-some months. It's funny when I remember how I used to update every day. And now, geez-where did all that creativity go? Up in smoke along with Mom's soul I suppose. Her death killed my will to write. But, I do believe something (anything), is slowly coming back. And that's why I'm here again. Although I really have nothing to say. Except that this is the first Christmas without her, and I'm wondering how everything will go. You see-this is my favorite time of the year. I love the chill, the whole process of buying presents, the wrapping, the holiday parties.... And, not to sound selfish, but I don't want my mom's passing to take that feeling away. I want to feel the way I used to feel when December came around. So, I'm trying. And, I suppose writing will help sort me out. Onto other things. Tonight I bought myself a long, black coat. I've always suffered from the chills-meaning that I tend to run cold like a car with no thermostat. While everyone is comfortable, I lean towards the freeze. Not sure why-poor blood circulation perhaps-or maybe my shaved head-either way, I m a perpetual goose bump. So, I figure a nice long coat would help. I hopped off the train, walked into the mall, and prepared myself for an hour or so of shopping to find the perfect mate. What I found, instead, was a welcome smile from the cashier. She lobbed a few adult-sized compliments my way and I found my chill replaced with that silly giddy warmth that you get when a stranger smiles in that funny way that sez all the right things. She made my night. Woweee. A few weeks back, I was pulled onto the Cirque Du Soleil stage. What happened during the next 10 or so minutes was beyond fun-I was kissed, embarassed and kissed again and finally walked off the stage wearing a blond wig and some sort of skirt. Wowee-again. So many spots of joy. So many moments that make me happy to be alive. I cling to these silly things. I always thought that happiness was this hard-attained spiritual connect with god or whatever it is up there. It was something you worked towards-something permanent-something significant. But now, i find myself clinging to these little moments of giddy. Is that shallow? 10:17 p.m. - 2003-12-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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