2002-11-13 - 10:36 a.m.: vanilla coke

I've decided to move to North Carolina in December. I'm not sure, exactly, what's motivating my decision other than my innate lust for change. I need to be far away. I need to be in a place where I can't use my past as a crutch. I need to be in a place where I can experiment with who I am. I need to be (free).

I realize that technically one occupies the same amount of space no matter where one lives... but there's something about being surrounded by newness... new people places and things... being unsure of where you are or how to get where you're going... that makes life seem more full. It's as though... having memorized all of the little details of life in Michigan, I fail to notice them anymore.

I bought a bottle of red wine yesterday... and didn't even think about what it was. What it REALLY was. Outside of language and culture. Until I saw it in the light, saw these little bubbles just under the glass moving and merging, reddish greenish clear... it was so beautiful. It turned my whole world, just for a moment, into a scene from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory... where chemicals turn into magic potions.

Or sand. I was at the track last night (which is also a field) for ultimate practice... when I had to retrieve a disc that landed in the long jump pit. I stepped into the sand to grab it.. and couldn't help but be delighted by the way the sand moved under my feet. It was such a PERFECT texture. I don't know how I distinguish "perfect" things from "mundane" things... but someone did a great job designing dirt. It can really make you think if you look at it with the right perspective.

Ha. Like on drugs, right?

I'm glad I have this diary, because if I said even half of what I'm thinking at any particular time out loud, I'd completely discredit myself in the eyes of anyone looking for reason.

But at the same time.. I love being able to refresh myself.... to clear away the "build-up" of a pedestrian lifestyle to make things glimmer like new.. to get to a place in myself that hasn't really recovered, yet, from being born.

Sometimes I can get there. Most of the time I walk around pretending to know everything already. Defining things in nouns instead of adjectives.

I wonder if one can be autistic SOME of the time. That would fit.

Anyway.. time to do some serious reading. It's actually really hard not having homework to (not) do. There's no pressure. Free time really is free time. It's sort of depressing, in a way. I think I'll have to take classes my whole life just to have duties to shirk. Reading Baudelaire is more fun if you're reading it instead of what you're supposed to be reading. Otherwise there's something a little pretentious about it.

Maybe.

This is why people turn into simps when they grow up. They stop bending rules and start to take them seriously.

Never!

Bye.

inward...outward