No, I don't mean sunrises.
I was at the Pioneer playground today, (well okay technically Henderson Field but WHATEVER MAN) and I was thinking about a time almost a year ago - a year ago in a week or two, actually - when I walked there and just lay on my back on the wood structure with my head hanging off the ledge where the fireman pole is and watched the sun go down.
One of my neighbors was there, and he was a senior last year - a freshman in college now - and that's where he went to elementary school, and I just sat there and watched him and wondered what was going through his head. If he just came there to think.
Before we moved to this house, back in sixth grade, I sometimes did that. I walked four blocks over to Lincoln and sat on the swings or in the gazebo or back around the tennis courts at one of the covered picnic tables all the time, because I'm more likely than anyone I know to get sentimental about shitty parts of my life.
I do that a lot, actually. More than I would likely admit were it not two thirty in the morning.
Not the point. I guess I've just had a lot on my mind lately, and today wasn't necessarily a 'good' day, even though it was supposed to be, and then I went over to Pioneer and had a while to just sit around and listen to music and then I came home and listened to Needle In The Hay on repeat and read a bunch of fluff and found out that one of my favorite fics finished awhile ago after I had given up on it and it's become the first part of a series and Grant let me rant at him and made me feel better about ranting at him by being self deprecating which, he really had no reason to be, but it made me feel better, and the point is, I had a crappy day until I got time to myself.
So today was an introvert day, I guess, because I may be up at two forty five, but I'm remarkably positive, when usually when I'm up this late it's because the lump in my throat that comes from almost-crying won't go away but actually, that lump went away around seven pm today and hasn't come back since.
Admittedly, I'm going to wake up and freak out because my piano lesson tomorrow (today? whatever) is twice as long as usual and I haven't even looked at my books since last week because HIGH SCHOOL and then CONCERT and then STRESS, but I always do okay and my teacher really likes me because, as she puts it, I'm not six years old. Her student before me is (well, actually seven) and I'm much more advanced and she can write in cursive in my notebook! And she's lovely to work with so there's that, too.
Anyway! Things are kind of veering all over the place right now, and while it may be chaotic, it's pleasing to the eye. And yes, I'm kind of turning my life into a piece of modern art. But that's okay, because modern and semi-abstract art are all about the interpretation and I've had a million different interpretations thrown at me in the past week but the only one that matters is my own and I happen to really like my own.
Does that make sense?
I hope that makes sense. Because I'm happier than I have been in a long time.