february 12

the list

I started an entry where I was just going to make a list of things on my mind, things I want to come back and write about later. But I couldn't stop. It all started coming out. And it was raw and garbled and choked and...too much. So I stopped. But I will come back to it. For now, back to the original plan:

The Olympics - I'm watching them for the first time in 10 years. And loving them. I love watching people go out there and do something they've devoted their entire lives to and do it so well. Or not. I love seeing both. The good and the bad, they both leave me awestruck, the risks they all take.

Old friends - I've been on another one of those kicks where I'll try to do what amounts to online stalking of people who used to be big parts of my life. And it occured to me: Why do I tell myself that I can have these people in my life again? One of them, I ditched in an incredibly dramatic and immature way. The other, who was once in love with me, tried to reach out to me but wasn't happy when I questioned his engagement to a woman I used be with who I knew for a fact was a lesbian. And the other always resented me, that's why she didn't come to my wedding, and why she's never tried to contact me. Let it go, right? I should. I know. It's just hard to imagine that I'll never see these people again. They were all so important to me at one time. And I would have done things differently, had I known better. But that's when it hit me--maybe *they* wouldn't have. I know some of this has to do with Vincent. I'm still having dreams about him. It's strange how he plays a different character in each dream, just like I painted him at different stages in my life.

The Time After - I don't know what else to call it. It's five months later. It's coming up now for people in new ways, or in the same old ways. This comic got me good last Sunday. I'm back to crying three times a day. I see it in the NYC journalers. They found more bodies this weekend. Five months later. I mean, I know. I know that this will be with us forever. But it's just now becoming clear what this means, what it will be like to carry this with me, constantly. Will this define us? I imagine how I will tell my children about this and I know I will never be able to convey to them what it means. I will try to describe the Before to them and then the After, but I won't be able to. Or perhaps, by then, I will. I have no idea. I just know that I'm terrified of forgetting about the Before. I scoured the web to buy posters of pictures of the WTC Sunday night. I bought two. I stole images of a bunch of others, mostly of ones that were sold out. I know that's wrong but I did it anyway. Like when I stole costume jewelery from my mom after she and my dad got divorced. I want to touch Before again.

Back to work now.

- february 12