Our house is so poorly designed you can’t see the sun set from the inside without standing atop the toilet of the second floor bathroom (which I only realized today). That is the only room in the house with a window facing the west, without an obstructing wall. All the others are facing either north or south.
[Our house directly faces north, by the way.]
That doesn’t matter much, but after being exposed to all those stars and planets last weekend, I realized I might have been missing too much of these heavenly bodies.
The school arranged this illustriously awesome activity that lasted for around fourteen hours. (It was only thirteen for me, since my dad’s car ran over one of those nasty sharp objects. Right, L.A.?) Although I could care less if Venus is brighter than Betelgeuse, I think those hours spent camping on the soccer field was well worth it. I’ve never been awake for twenty-five hours straight just to wait for shooting stars or exploding nebulae but, well, it feels good stay up like a vampire who doesn’t shimmer.
Especially when you’re introspecting in the darkness with a friend whose mind works like yours (and feeding on a ruined birthday cake, in other people’s cases). It feels great to know you’re clearly understood without being judged.
[And hey, I didn’t realize how blinding the slightest of all lights can get at whatever o’clock.]
While the speaker was talking about the errors of the Star Wars movies (more on this on the following days), I focused on scribbling words on my notebook. I could barely see a thing in that theatre but I was getting these vibes again. I thought I’ll let them go already after this post, but certain circumstances are giving me a relapse and I’m sorry if I
Nevermind. Typing anything further would invite that relapse again. In fact, I’ll end this whole post after a few sentences. Hostility is sort of creeping back into me and I’d rather not to see myself type under the hateful influence again.
So…
All the windows are now showing the same thing, the same total darkness. There is only one post lamp on our street and it's not very bright. I love looking at this kind of darkness but I hate being in it. This is out of the blue but I read a part of my Journal Intime #4 and I conclude that darkness leads to profound conversation, with or without another person.
[Our house directly faces north, by the way.]
That doesn’t matter much, but after being exposed to all those stars and planets last weekend, I realized I might have been missing too much of these heavenly bodies.
The school arranged this illustriously awesome activity that lasted for around fourteen hours. (It was only thirteen for me, since my dad’s car ran over one of those nasty sharp objects. Right, L.A.?) Although I could care less if Venus is brighter than Betelgeuse, I think those hours spent camping on the soccer field was well worth it. I’ve never been awake for twenty-five hours straight just to wait for shooting stars or exploding nebulae but, well, it feels good stay up like a vampire who doesn’t shimmer.
Especially when you’re introspecting in the darkness with a friend whose mind works like yours (and feeding on a ruined birthday cake, in other people’s cases). It feels great to know you’re clearly understood without being judged.
[And hey, I didn’t realize how blinding the slightest of all lights can get at whatever o’clock.]
While the speaker was talking about the errors of the Star Wars movies (more on this on the following days), I focused on scribbling words on my notebook. I could barely see a thing in that theatre but I was getting these vibes again. I thought I’ll let them go already after this post, but certain circumstances are giving me a relapse and I’m sorry if I
Nevermind. Typing anything further would invite that relapse again. In fact, I’ll end this whole post after a few sentences. Hostility is sort of creeping back into me and I’d rather not to see myself type under the hateful influence again.
So…
All the windows are now showing the same thing, the same total darkness. There is only one post lamp on our street and it's not very bright. I love looking at this kind of darkness but I hate being in it. This is out of the blue but I read a part of my Journal Intime #4 and I conclude that darkness leads to profound conversation, with or without another person.
I'll leave with that for tonight. Mom says I should stick to a sleeping habit. I'll try to.
["The" is gone. Hallelujah.]
