mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- flash of white light Did you know that waking up to a smiling, laughing kid is probably one of the best ways to possibly wake up? I mean, second to having an acoustic guitar played two inches away from your face while your best friend screams incoherent lyrics, yeah, but really, what could top that? I woke up the first way today. Babysitting has never been one of my favorite pasttimes, but with little-little kids-- two, three, four-- its different. Especially with Katelynne. She got me up today by turning on the television, loud, and jumping on the bed. The weird part? I was HAPPY to be awake. I thought it was cute, just fucking adorable to be woken up at 10am by the Sci-Fi channel at full volume. The really nice part? I sleepily asked for a hug and a kiss and she giggled and snuggled up beside me and patted my arm. We spent the day playing with the block-books I bought yesterday-- tiny books with the numbers one through ten on them that you can stack like building blocks-- and singing the alphabet and watching the show where the big, friendly, yellow monster says "Great pooglie mooglie!" Oh, and I discovered that I have inherited my Mother's irritating habit of trying ten different outfits on a child before picking one. Unfortunate. Being around Katelynne again has reminded me how much I really DON'T hate the world. I tend to forget that we don't come into this world shitty and manipulative and angry, but rather, that we choose-- or are conditioned-- to adopt those characteristics. Katelynne, she hasn't become another piece of human trash yet. She still has the chance to become someone better and smarter and kinder than the rest of us. She's little enough that there's hope for her. It's... uplifting. I spoke with Adrian tonight about perception, about how perception is everything. I know it, logically, but I try not to dwell on it-- the fact that everything is relative and really, nothing means anything and everything means the world. I find that when I really think about life, about living, I begin to feel very, very cold. I mean, if all of my thoughts and feelings are learned responses to external occurances, and if each of my feelings are granted importance or relevance by either myself or others, what does anything mean? Is sadness sadness? Why is it bad? Why is happiness good? Happiness feels good, yeah, but WHY? Could I be conditioned to enjoy sadness? Is it all a problem with language? Is sadness really sadness if we learn to relish it? What do we call it then? I think something shorted out in my brain during that conversation, and I have since come to the conclusion that I shouldn't try so hard to come up with answers. I'm going to work on just living, on feeling and thinking and BEING, and ignoring the labels and the stupid little rules and the niceties. Adrian is nuts, yeah, but when I told him that it didn't matter whether or not we care or try or enjoy our lives- to anyone but ourselves, that is, and sometimes not even then-- he responded, "Exactly." So I'm choosing to enjoy. 2:47 a.m. - 2004-07-14 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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