05 april 2000 | back | archive | forward | girl | sign | e-mail

and we wonder where the loneliness comes from.

how can we possibly feel empty when our lives are filled with everything we ever wanted? we drive the cars. we flip open our cell phones. we grasp our laptops. we stand tall on our shoes. we run our fingers through our hair. we are young. we are fast. we are beautiful. we are rich. we have it all.

but when we sit in our halogen lit and candle scented rooms at night, listening to our tori amos or morrissey, kept company by the humming of our computers and flashing screen of the television on mute, we are lonely. our thoughts surround us, but they are more invasive than comforting. our dreams keep us warm while we sleep, but they are more frightening than inspiring. even in a circle of chattering and guzzling friends, we are alone.


maybe we are lonely because what we really need is understanding. and i'm not talking about the understanding of nietzsche or sartre, i'm not talking about literary references or how our stocks will rise, i'm not even talking about knowledge or anything visible or tangible -- i am talking about the acceptance that we don't understand; the surrendering to God or fate or whatever you choose to call It. realizing the vastness of the world and the smallness of us.

we are great, sure. we are talented, yes. we are successful, i can see that. but we are not everything, and we are not doing this on our own.

sometimes we are so busy looking at the big picture that we forget to notice the little things right around us. maybe we aren't spending enough time with our mother who is sick or our friends who are alone. maybe we are forgetting to tell our friends we appreciate them or sacrifice a little for somebody else who doesn't have as much.

i say we, and maybe you're doing everything right, but i know i'm not. maybe you know your priorities, but i don't. i am always forgetting, but i don't want to. i don't want to live my life thinking it is all about me, because when i do i focus on my hair, my clothes, my shoes, my walk, my talk, and the moment i look up i see nobody else around me. i see me, staring right back at myself.

and there's gotta be more than that, more than me, more than you, there must. maybe it is deeper than our skin, clearer than our eyes, and truer than anything we've ever breathed; maybe it's there, staring right back at us.

the 1st and 3rd tuesdays have come to be two of my favorite days in the month. i get to experience people sharing their art, whether it's music or poetry or comedy, and i always leave so inspired to create some of my own.

i've got a serious case of spring fever.

want to go to bed with maura? well you can't! but you can read up on her sleeping habits.

"i can sing just like madonna, but only when i have a cold." -- quibblings of a ganeesha, a charming diary i've been perusing a lot, lately.

how many of you think this is a journal, and how many think it's a weblog? i'm just curious. (if you don't care, then don't e-mail me just to tell me that, silly.)