It's the two-year anniversary of imagination. Julie would understand. Although her November was the pits. Mine...that was when I bought a new journal. That was when I would peruse books at Borders and drink coffee in the evening. That was the month of East of Eden and All the Kings Men. It was a month of tights and falling in love. It was a month of emo British lyrics and rearranging my bedroom. And I haven't thought about it in awhile.
Granted, there were lots of screwed up things then. And I was pretty absorbed in myself and teenage ennui and things of that nature. But there was something there. Something lovely though I'm not sure how real it was. Though it felt real.
I'm too serious in college. I think too much about what the future holds. I worry. Conversations revolve around schoolwork and scheduling and next semester...that's just the way things roll. Campus organizations and endless paths of brick...it's like a plastic organism.
I'm complaining, I know. I'm trying to reclaim something I lost upon coming to college...even though I've gained so much more. Youth is fleeting, beauty if fleeting, success is fleeting. I wish I could see things through the eyes of a centenarian.
In the meantime, I will wear tights. I will look outside of the library window at the flaming orange leaves and wait for them to fall. And I will pray...pray that God will help me reconcile this longing for shomething differnet with contentment in the here and now. My thoughts aren't the most glorifying at this moment, and it makes me wonder if this blog post has any purpose whatsoever. I don't think I've said anything.
Oh well. Who really does?
I need to just go pray.
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