saturday morning.

So, it's one semester down.
I've become re-immersed in suburban North Dallas culture. I find myself rushing everywhere, as though I really have somewhere to be. I have two tickets to remind me of how silly it is to presume there's anything so important in life to get in a hurry over. . . . . Damn red light cameras.
I came back to Dallas after three fourths a year of solitude. Now, thank God, I find myself increasingly surrounded by people. Though nothing is like I thought it would be. Nine months of loneliness does wonders for your thinking, while committing atrocities on one's social skills.
I guess I thought I'd renew old friendships to their former glory. At least that was what I attempted to do at first. But, the glory of days past never respects us when we summon it. Relationships change because we are never the same. The only way to regain our friendships at their former level is to go back to being who we were then; to become who we were, but aren't any longer. Being our past self feels good from time to time, but I think we all know that we've changed for good reasons.
So, I've been dealing with the bittersweet truth of moving on. And none of that is intended to say that old friendships are gone. They are what they are: different. Less intimate, but old, which makes them distinct. There is always a level at which you can pick up where you left off . . only I'm not the same person as when I put them down. That's why it's not the same. The same goes for them. I've always placed a lot of importance on geography in terms of relationships, now I have experience to back up such theses.

I didn't feel like going out for coffee this morning. But, here I am.
My mom is wrapping Christmas presents, which makes her far too irritable to enjoy resting at home on a Saturday morning.
It's cold and grey outside. It finally feels like winter. Most of the leaves are finally abandoning the trees . . . midway through December. Texas is odd.
Days like today are adept at sparking creativity. When everything seems barren, I feel the need to compensate.
The impending depression of watching nature give up on another year makes me want to bear something fruitful, even if it's just words.
I sit here taking stock of what these 4 months have accomplished.
Three A's. Ten hours to credit to my name.
A new passion for learning new things.
New friends. Maybe one's whom I can trust.
Time with my parents, who, I'm just now realizing, are not eternal.
Ceasing to hate my home, and so maybe I'm one step closer to loving myself.
Eleven new books on my 'finished' shelf.
Two new songs.
Maybe a new direction.
Maybe a new openness to the future which I won't determine.
Maybe a new chance to rest at peace . . . as myself . . . whoever that might be.