2003-07-14 - 11:32 a.m. Inauguration I scraped several entries. They were to emotional. I couldn't write what I wanted. How I wanted. I feel that I am being too dramatic. This gawd damn entry is dramatic too. I hate it. I'm taking a writing break. ________________________________________ I went to Pittsburgh to see Sam a few week back and we got on the topic of yearbook quotes. You know that all important thing that you stick into the yearbook next to your picture. I have lots of funny tales about what people put and why it was amusing, but this one is about sadness I suppose. I wrote an entry about this earlier, but its been some time removed and I feel that I can explain it better. I am having the bi-monthly bout with that old depression bug. This means too things. Less entries and less time spent on the entries that are written This is mostly because I am less funny and more bitter. I am not complaining that just the way it is. Before I go onto the story, since I don�t think I will update for a bit, I just wanted to thank everyone who has been reading this diary. I appreciate it, and I don�t take it lightly that you like what I write. It means a lot. Also to the girl from Buffalo who hasn�t left I note yet. Hi!!! How�s Billups? Also will someone tell me what a Blog is and what it means. But why Blog? Why that word? Is there a exact parameter to being a Blog? Thanks also to everyone who has left a note. Comments and such add a lot to each of my entries and I think people enjoy reading those as much if not more than the entry itself. Okay. Now for a story about Sam. The end of this is a hybrid. I just have my memory and its not perfect. Forgive me, I will steal words and memories and weave them to make them apply to this entry. When last I saw Sam we talked about his yearbook quote. Sam�s yearbook quote was a little blurb about liking school, his friends, his family, and his dog (I liked that he thanked his dog in the yearbook.) Then a short quote. O� how it roars by O Coupland. Of course the O should have been a D, but Sam believed that Pranava, the resident arrogant know-it-all on the year book staff had screwed him. The more popular theory held by most of us is that Sam�s �chicken scratches� typically make O�s and D�s look the same, and it was an honest mistake. But that quote meant nothing to me in high school. It means nothing to Sam now. Sometime after he wrote that, two days before Sam left for college, I believe, I asked him to explain what he meant. I found his description of the quote and the reason he put it in the yearbook to be moving. It had been awhile since I had found anything moving, and I felt dwarfed by the sincerity of his explanation. It was warm out that night and dark. There was very little light, but our eyes had adjusted to the low light. We were outside by his pool in the backyard. Lizzy was digging at her hole. I always wondered why Lizzy dug that hole. I wonder if she felt like she needed a bunker? Those days were very somber days. The thing was just six years later; Sam couldn�t even recall what the quote meant to him, or why he put it into the yearbook. John, upon my recommendation sometime in between that night by Sam�s pool and our trip to Pittsburgh read the same book that Sam did. I had also read it. I didn�t realize that we had been reading the same book, until I asked John to describe that scene to me, from the book. The scene where the quote was used. What triggered my memory was how John described it. So similar to the way that Sam did, though less emotionally, since I don�t think that it meant that much to John. I think that�s mostly an age thing. Things meant more to us when we were younger and less cynical. Less jaded by disappointment and reality. However, maybe due to my stunted mental growth or just a general inferiority it still meant something to me. And yet my two friends have both understood it better than I did, and it means very little to them anymore. It made me very confused and sad to experience Sam forgetting completely what that meant to him. I am not upset, it just worries me. Will he remember the conversation we had in High School? Will he remember when he said that a month ago? Will I remember it? And if I forget, what happens? Is it like it never occurred? Back after the conversation I had with Sam I went home and was very sad, obviously because he was leaving first to go to school. I gave him my favorite CD, and left him a note on his car, because I knew that he was leaving very early in the morning. I don�t know what the note said, I could only guess. I feel isolated and alone. I know this is strange, but things are changing and as usual I am resisting them. I have been very sad, and I have been very down. I used to think that being part of something would pick me up. Being part of something that had a purpose that extended beyond my small life. I want to be with people who believe in the same thing as I did. I have wanted to hear the sounds of a crowd. A crowd gathered in one spot supporting something bigger than them. I want to hear the clapping and cheering of an assembly, like the thunderous roar of the rapids. It�s so loud I can�t hear my own thoughts. O� does it roar. | |||||||||||
