rêves d'une âme perdue: inclined confusion

Run.

For the past few days, I have been spending my afternoons and evenings jogging through the neighborhood. I pass by areas I've known since my earliest childhood days: the paths I explored with elementary school friends, the roads my parents drove to take me to school every day (the same one mother and I biked through every summer), and the familiar walkways to the river, containing the pretty pebbles I sorted through while my grandparents watched, amused. (They helped me wash the pebbles to form a collection. Grandpa always pointed out the small details in nature, especially trees, then translated them into sketches when we got home. Nostalgia.)

So much time has passed since those days. 

So many things have changed in the immediate area. So many things have changed with those around me. So many things have changed with me. 

We will be leaving soon. I have waited for this day for a long time -- waiting to move on to a new chapter with my parents. It's scary. 

I have been lucky with the stability they have provided me over the years. They allowed me to savor details from my childhood. They indulged me in an ever-present reminder that the past is contained in the present. The past trails behind the future, no matter how much time has gone by. It never truly disappears.

The distance I run increases in small increments. Progress has been slow. But everything about the jogs have been to exercise my mentality, endurance, and patience. While going through these jogs, I am immersed with memories of my childhood. I keep running on the sidewalk as the memories trail behind me. I look ahead, and they are still there -- a blur, waiting to be recalled. And even if they are seemingly forgotten, they remain floating, untouched, and unnerved by time.

I run for fitness. I run to increase endurance. I run to strengthen mentality. May the past bring inspiration for the process to continue. May our future be filled with pleasant memories to accompany our past.

I am realizing that I run to remember how to be me again. 

The quest for inner-peace continues. 

The lecture was for my drugs and addiction class. Interesting stuff on addiction for that particular lecture. Add: distress from the Awakening, analysis of Old Woman Magoun, and reviewing French verbs, particularly the passe compose etre ones. Surprisingly, I found sleep quite well. My alarm went off. I didn't hear it. Instead, I woke up suddenly to hear old Daphne Loves Derby songs whispering from my Mac.

Immediate thoughts: Oh gosh, I love the band.

I love their songs. And I especially love their lyrics. After battling through the complexity of literary characters from the mentioned stories and trying to conversate with them about drug use in French, I felt an odd sense of relief. For a moment, I felt like I was back in high school years, listening to the songs on my MP3 player while laying in bed. I felt at peace. Undisturbed. I was back at home, with my mom most likely preparing food and my dad reading a book, or watching PBS. I felt secure again. I felt safe. I couldn't wait to eat dinner with my family.

The pangs from realizing the feeling was all nostalgia brought me back to the present. I fell asleep again to thoughts of my classes. More verbs, more symbolism and imagery to refine into a paper argument, and more about drugs to learn.

I always tell my friends, "Nostalgia is overrated." I still think it is. Living in the past has been a problem for me. I dwell a lot. I prefer to live in a secure world, constructed of my past experiences. What is known can be controlled. In a way, this thought is similar to that of Old Woman Magoun, who uses the tragic experiences of her young daughter's life to regulate the development of her grandchild. I won't be extreme in attempting to control the future. I certainly will not let my granddaughter eat poison berries, like Old Woman Magoun does in the story. I will try my best to move forward, even though every part of me will warn me otherwise: to be cautious, to avoid attachments, and to avoid getting hurt.

It's a difficult thing to do, beyond what is familiar and secure. My temporary moment of relief was nice. I liked it. But I don't think I should get caught up in it again for a long time.

My point is that this is rare, but it sometimes happens! (like the little boy in the storyy!! xD AHAHAHA damn him -__-)

Dad and I had a long conversation/bonding time on the car ride home from Stockton last night. We used to spend our weekends at Barnes and Nobles together, but as I got older, the trips became less frequent. It was nice to have the chat. Reminiscent of a pep talk, though it followed the guidelines of "this is going to be inspirational but will also make you think. I am your father and I think this is best for you" etc. !! 

And he made me cry... tear up, oh gawd, I hope he didn't notice. Strong girls don't cry like wussies!! T__T or tear up. THEY ARE IMMUNE TO EMOTION! RAAAAWR!! O__O

I just hate Relationship Anna.