Wednesday, December 8, 2010

To God: Not Day

It's over.

Now to pack to the sound of the Pipettes. Luckily, my memories of dancing to Come Out 2Nite and Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me are easily to put into my things, but in my mind, they weigh a ton. There won't be that again. (And I know: I'm looking for permanence where there really is none.)

But by this time Thursday I'll be on a plane back to the States and it feels wrong. I mean, I know these kids now and I have a different…appearance to keep up. I might be coming back to Rome, but it's ancillary: Not with these people. I will meet others, certainly. But this lacks the weight of my college adventures.

I should have gone out last night, but I fucked around too much, or spent my time in the wrong place and the bunch of people I wanted to go with all left to a place that I didn't know where they were going.

And, I'm exhausted now. Just feeling whatever energy I had from the wine at 7:30 leave me and…I'm letting off the whatever the feeling of repressing my tiredness at three months abroad is. Tomorrow is my last full day in Rome. Hopefully, it'll be a long one. The Van Gogh exhibit, the Church made of bones, MAXXIIII, food and then go out drinking for a last night on the town before getting out in the morning. (Plus, I need to take pictures of the places. It's a living.)

Well, it's a lot better, actually. But shhhhhhh.

I didn't go out in the morning. I ended up packing more and oddly enough enjoying myself. I may be coming back to Rome, but that's not up to me anymore. It's up to any number of other people, some of whom like me, others who don't know I exist. But that's life, isn't it? Hopefully, this will make the life more interesting and even if it doesn't work out? I still know people back home and I need to catch up with them.

That's pretty awesome, too.

I'm choosing the Good Left Undone by Rise Against for the reason inherent in the title. I'm a fan of the lyric: "I believe in angels. No, not the kind with wings. No, not the kind with halos. The kind that bring you home." Angels as something human, something that sticks their necks out for you when you need it. In short, angels as people that believed in the heroic and became heroes, through their deeds. (Yes, I'm using Benjamin Disraeli. Blame Crime In Stereo.)

The angelic made corporeal not through divinity but through their unflinching humanity. Yes. This.

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