Friday, December 25, 2015

Chrstmas Evening



Christmas Day. Merry Christmas to you. 




Wasn't feeling it this season. Christmas seemed like an obligation to be observed, not a thing to be celebrated. The scents, the tastes, the sights, the textures...that tactile qualities were missing, the warm sensibilities, and so too the spirit as well. I was happy with the way the tree turned out (the pic above doesn't capture the lights, at least 400 of them, red and white in equal measure), and I watched a few movies with nostalgic ties to the season which almost brought forward a sense of the holiday...but mostly it was a non-starter.

Haven't been able to force myself draw. Sketch, a little, but not draw. Depression has been manageable: present, binding, but it didn't drag me back into the well. Day's not over yet, and there's still New Year's Eve and January to go. My birthday.

I'm hoping to get hold of an external hard drive, as a few people have said they might hook me up with one. I don't know how that works, whether it will allow me to play DVDs on my comp and get screen caps again. Screen caps are pending for Pretty in Pink (bought a copy), Some Kind of Wonderful, and Weird Science as I want to sketch or draw her appearances in them..

I'll get right to it – I didn't hear from her. 2015 was my last shot, I got Dana's attention at the beginning of the year and the opportunity to finally  be heard, now the year draws to a close and nothing has come of it.   I dunno, maybe she has the same block that keeps her from reaching out, maybe she's depressed...yeah, and maybe I'm making the same damn excuses for her. Part of me wants to rail at her, to hope something sinks in and hurts her feelings – I need very badly to know whether she is capable of feeling anything. Thing is...if she's looking in to read it, then the chances are she doesn't deserve to be blamed. OTOH, if she really is that cold then it wouldn't register with her anyway – she doesn't give a fuck if she's hurt someone. Venting to release my grief is a bandage on a gut wound. I still need to, it just won't help. Nothing ever changes.

Drawing upon my own experience, the depression that kept me from writing to her for three years following high school...because I could see not see myself clearly enough to understand the problem, I could not explain it to anyone else. Certainly not to her. That added to the restriction, because how would she ever comprehend my avoidance of her? I was sure she wouldn't forgive me. She did, once it lifted, but I had realized that not only was I free to write to her but that what mattered more was that I make the effort for my own sake. Either she would understand or not, at least I finally did myself. It would be out there and no longer on me but up to her whether to respond.

From that, I would want her to know that I am not sitting here with a million questions she's required to answer. I just want to hear her tell me that she still thinks of me as a friend. As much as I want to know her story, as much of it as she can tell me, it matters only to have her friendship back. It means more to me that she might want to share her story with me than that I have explanations. Justifications aren't important. She is.

I would also have her know that if she thinks she's doing me any favors by keeping her silence, she couldn't be more wrong. I meant what I said before, that she has nothing to apologize for over what occurred between us. It's what she chooses now that matters...if she remains silent of her own volition now, it's the one thing I will never forgive her for.