2008-04-27
And here I snatch back attention from my word-weary tagboard.
A snippet's worth of updates to sate those who presume I have backtracked into the realm of Utter Angst, and also to draw attention away from the current drama on the tagboard.
(I should name him, shouldn't I? I mean, a named tagboard is far more endearing than say, well. Just the tagboard. I'm thinking along the lines of B.B. or maybe Nicholas, but I'm not sure yet.)
(Wait, what if he's a she? Oh dear. Then I'd have to call her Lillian or Layla. Or something exotic, like Utahraptor or Allosaurus. Just because.)
So Friday night led to a little disllusionment, and general disappointment with the state of thinking amongst teenagers (and to an extent, society) nowadays. It's near appalling to think that, even with the multitude of knowledge and information around us, there are those who still cling, searing and sniping, at typical stereotypes, wearing them down with the sheer ignorance and disdain in their comments. Uncovering dark skeletons in the recesses of the internet simply served to leave me even more weary of our current state.
It's frustrating and exasperating, but you could say Friday night was there as a wake-up call. No, the world isn't all love and kisses and forgiveness. We can't get rid of hatred, or rather, we can but there are those who cling to it, grasping spite. The minority suffers and it may be years before the stereotypes and mindsets and hatred change. I can only hope I'll live till then, because that will be the day I sing and dance and laugh till I cry.
Dramatic evenings aside, I had a lovely Saturday, spent curled up on the sofa in the soft sunshine enjoying a good book. It was a rare weekend of peace - literature, light, sweet tea and meandering lunchtime conversation - something we ought to be allowed to enjoy at the end of each hectic week. Naturally scholastic affairs dictate the abolishment of such weekends, but it was a rare gem in the midst of a hectic schedule.
It reminded me of innocence - those child-like days so coloured with calm, all pastel sky and dream-eyed when I could wake to the sunlight slanting across the floor, leaning and lengthening past the creases of the sheets.
There would be a bird outside, a mynah perhaps. Through the windows there would be the song that would lead the morning away, brimming from the avian throat, just before the wingbeat skims the glass, splicing through sky and cloud and breath.
inquisite at 6:23 p.m.