The Washing Machine

All day yesterday I was extremely happy and excited to be living. The morning was great because I just hung out here (yes I'm at the Callahan's again) from like nine to eleven. It was really relaxing since the weather was pretty much perfect.

Going to do music department work was weird since I am a senior. I don't really like it that much. Sometimes it's kind of nice having someone be a level above you. It always kept me humble in a lot of ways. When I was done with work there I went back to the Callahan's and hung out again.. OBVEE. When I was driving home I was so extraordinarily content with everything. The weather was great to car driving, the music was good and I was anticipating a great time for the evening. Said evening involved going to Cafe Dolce with Emily, Emily and Jay Oh. Driving there I was feeling the overflow of my supah mood from an hour before. I was kind of out of my mind... and it put my friend's safety in jeopardy. But in a fun way! Sorry guys.

While in the Dolce somebody (maybe even me?) brought up a movie called Man On Fire with Denzel. I have only seen parts of that movie but the cinematography was nutso. The camera was all shakey all the time with multiple things going on at once, colors, overwhelming sounds and stuff.. It might not actually be like that but that's how I remember it.

ANYWAYS I slept horribly last night and the whole night experience was a lot like the crazy aspects of Man On Fire. My body and head were in a battle all night and it was quite an even match. It's not like I was sitting awake all night but I was, as they say, "tossing and turning". Whoever made up that phrase really hit the nail on the head because I literally was... well tossing and turning, constantly switching sides and punching my pillow all night and morning trying to get comfortable. All while this was going on flashes of faces and people shot through my mind, too vivid to be a thought but too blurry and abstract to be an image of the eye. My night was like a long LONG cycle in a washing machine where my thoughts and feelings and frustration and fatigue and effort and complexities spun among limbs and an uncontrollable body. Dude, it sucked.

Maturity is something I've never really thought about much at all in my short life. I have a feeling a lot of parents tell their kids to act like mature, responsible adults but mine pretty much only stuck with the responsibility thing. I don't think I can name the last time they told me to be mature because I don't think it's that important for them. Despite my lack of experience on the subject I don't think maturity is something you can force. Some people are just in different stages on maturity. If my opinion is worth anything I would have to say that maturity is simply the acknowledgement of things. It's facing the realities of situations and dealing with them. Sometimes I hate maturity.

EDIT 8/27/09

"'Maturity, the way I understand it,' he told me, 'is knowing what your limitations are.'
He wasn't far from Bokonon in defining maturity. 'Maturity,' Bokonon tells us, 'is a bitter sweet disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter can be said to remedy anything.'"

Cat's Cradle: Kurt Vonnegut