Thursday, January 3rd
When I get older, if I get married, I think I want to get married in an ivory dress. Not even I would wear a black dress at a wedding, but I wouldn't wear a white one. White symbolizes purity, perfection, a promise of perfection. A promise of something unachievable. Ivory, is still somewhat pure, but not completely. A hope for perfection, but not a promise. I could try ivory.
Then again, maybe I don't want to get married. I've been growing up in a home in which it is strictly set that the man is in charge. I can sometimes see why it would be nice to have one person in charge, I just don't want that for me. And yet, I always grew up that way. But I'm starting to question it. And no one is answering my dang questions!
So do I follow my parents, trusting tradition, or do I forge my own path, hoping desperately that I don't fail? Right about now I've just been pushing the thoughts of marriage, dating and the like to the back of my head. I know it can't stay in the dark recesses of my mind forever, but I'll keep it there as long as possible.
Do I trust what I have always known,
What I have always seen
As I have grown?
Or do I trust myself,
With my interesting ideals?
Are they right or wrong?
Some around me say they are wrong,
And others tell me that I am right,
So should or shouldn't I fight
For my ideals?
Are my ideals idiotic or revolutionary?
Am I being stubborn or a visionary?
To follow tradition would be simple
All I have to do is follow those before me
Or I could blaze a trail, hoping I'm not heading for a cliff.
Do I stay on safe land or do I set sail,
Knowing full well I'm heading into a storm?
Is going into the unknown brave or idiotic
I'd ask you for your opinion,
But then I'd be back to where I was,
Indecisive.
Indecisive.
Don't have an answer
Not quite yet
Everyone confuses me,
With all their voices in my head.
How do you expect me to answer
If you keep shouting at me?
Can't concentrate, can't think
Can't come up with an answer
At least not soon enough.
Indecisive.
Wow, two poems in one day! I'm so proud of myself!
Goodbye for now,
Sam
oOoOoOo
Tuesday, February 19th
I have dubbed tonight The Last Tuesday Night. Why? Well Uncle Jem got transferred. Two hours away. Definitely too far to come see me on the weeknights, specifically Tuesday. I know I should be happy that he still has a job, instead of getting laid off like a lot of his co-workers, but Tuesday night is our night.
He picks me up from school. We listen to oldies music in the car. He drops me off at my guitar lessons, then go does who-knows-what for half an hour. He picks me up. We listen to more oldies music. We eat at Nasty Burger. We draw on our placemats with crayons- his drawings purely amazing and mine... not so much. I get a dinner salad, he gets a tofu sandwich- he's the one who came up with the ultra-recyclo-vegetarian thing- every time. I get him to smile and laugh with some jokes I learn just for Tuesdays. We get back in the car and listen to more oldies music. He drops me off at home. We repeat the next week.
That's the way it's been for about four months, and we both like it that way- or at least I think we both like it that way. I'm 99% sure we both do though.
And now our tradition is ending. And tonight was the last night before he moves. Our last Tuesday night.
The radio played softer than ever before
Commercials ran rampant on the radio.
With the sound of an advertiser in the background
We sat in the car in almost silence.
It was not awkward silence, yet not completely comfortable.
The kind of quiet that dares you to speak
Yet makes you not want to ruin the peace.
A song finally came on
But unfortunately, it was not 'our' song
I'd never heard of it, and he didn't comment
With the title and artist as he so often did.
The semi-silence goes on, and I looked out the window
At the cloudy, grey bad-day-cliché sky
Not an interesting sky like that of a thunderstorm,
Or peaceful like that of a completely blue sky
Nor was it beautiful like the multi-colored sunset.
Just grey. No rain, no sun, no blue. Grey.
Practice doesn't go very well,
Guess I shouldn't have procrastinated
When it comes to practicing…
But when he asked "How did it go?"
I lie and tell him it went well.
When we got to the fast food place
He doesn't draw much.
I draw my name,
And he watches me.
I'm proud when he says it is good.
But sad that he didn't draw too.
The food comes, and it is delicious,
However, there are no jokes,
As I have none memorized
And there is no laughter
Because nothing seems funny.
Eventually, we finished eating.
He drove me home.
And I waved walking up the steps
Wishing upon stars and genies and the like
That this didn't have to be
The Last Tuesday Night.
What will Tuesday nights be like from now on?
Will my parents still let me go to guitar practice?
How often will I see my uncle?
These are the questions,
Sam.
AN: Hope you enjoyed these poems/journal entries! Remember to leave a review, follow or favorite-they are greatly appreciated! And I'll see you next time!