I have too many confessions to make. Too many, quite possibly, to ever begin. There is some secret and deeply buried part of me that commands I kneel down on entrance to a Catholic or Episcopal church, swiping the requisite holy water cross pattern in some failed attempt at self absolution upon arrival, vastly more out of simple earned respect for my Abuelita, or Grandmother, than out of any real urge to suddenly convert to a religion which condemns me for any number of assorted heresies and impositions of shattered faith. There are things which literally no one knows about me, and probably never will, and there are even more things which only my cherished older brother, or father, or old man, will ever know. I know and have seen things which would make the most jaded of you run screaming, white-haired, for the hills. And I don't pretend to care about some of them.
I don't necessarily know where this is coming from, tonight.
I only know that there are a lot of things in this world that I haven't tried, and would like to.
Things that a kid who ate out of garbage cans to survive (not out of some pathetic rich kid's mentality to rebel) is never supposed to have access to. I know that I've already done a ton of things which I was never "supposed" to do. Like being the only name on the President's List at my college after basically dropping out in my freshman year of college.
Or staying alive this long with some of my diagnosis.
I just know that my blog is an outlet for me to tell the truth, and to ramble, and I intend to take full advantage of that.
I only know that tonight, laying in my bed with my window open to the night and my arm around the largest of my 3 dogs, an orphaned and abandoned (like me) white Lab named Baudelaire (Baudie for short), when I heard him sigh, deeply and satisfied, it was all ok but there's still a bunch more I need to do. So I think despite my health, I may stick around to finish some of what I started.
I don't necessarily know where this is coming from, tonight.
I only know that there are a lot of things in this world that I haven't tried, and would like to.
Things that a kid who ate out of garbage cans to survive (not out of some pathetic rich kid's mentality to rebel) is never supposed to have access to. I know that I've already done a ton of things which I was never "supposed" to do. Like being the only name on the President's List at my college after basically dropping out in my freshman year of college.
Or staying alive this long with some of my diagnosis.
I just know that my blog is an outlet for me to tell the truth, and to ramble, and I intend to take full advantage of that.
I only know that tonight, laying in my bed with my window open to the night and my arm around the largest of my 3 dogs, an orphaned and abandoned (like me) white Lab named Baudelaire (Baudie for short), when I heard him sigh, deeply and satisfied, it was all ok but there's still a bunch more I need to do. So I think despite my health, I may stick around to finish some of what I started.
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2 comments:
S...I remember getting a text from you when you lived here in Phx for awhile. We'd met briefly at the gallery and I had visited the apt you had thought about getting in Mesa across from the LDS temple.
I bet you remember it, most of it, if not all of it.
I asked you in the text if it was on purpose or by accident, you said both...I liked the comment. Now, I think I should have gotten to know you better.
You seem exemplary in some ways...
I would recommend instead of a blog consider writing an autobiography. I'm sure it would make for interesting reading and be cathartic at the same time.
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