the voices dying with a dying fall

Some part of me realizes that I haven’t the time to maintain a blog. Ms. Hooker’s dedication is daunting, and I know she has about as much time as I do; however I haven’t the slightest as to what the rest of you are really doing anymore, and with that in mind I would like to not be hypocritical. I love keeping up with Suzanne although I haven’t seen her, or really spoken to her, in years.  It’s nice. I like feeling that our years together weren’t for naught. So here I try.

I’m also trying to write on a more frequent basis. Yesterday I started a journal/incredibly-long-letter for Joss, that I hope to give him when he’s 18 or so. I’m still relatively young, and if I show the same patterns of crotchety aging that the rest of the world seems to, I’d like to have some record that I wasn’t always an uptight old biddy. 

It’s bizarre, writing to a full grown Joss. He had been running around in his underwear playing playstation when I opened the journal and picked up the pen. Will he really grow up? What will he be like? Will therapy really be able to fix all the mistakes I must be making? Inconceivable.

I wish I had something like that from my mom, some sign that she wasn’t always jaded and crazy.  So I start now, when he’s 8, and see how many books I can fill about his growing up process, and the answers I would have liked to give to his innocent questions, had he been a little older. Besides. I could die a thousand ways before he grows up , and he’d just have you bastards to ask about me.

argh. the rambling has begun.  I’m gonna try to keep this up… well, if anyone reads it. I guess I should be doing this for me and not you, but I’m not. I want to keep up. And I think Suzy has set a fantastic example- so I’m following it.

School starts back for me next week. If the UNC ram’s horns dig me another academic grave this semester, I probably won’t make much time to write. But I lightened my course load, so maybe it won’t be so bad.
"The Office" calls.
love.