i could watch you dance for hours

19 Oct

It is a strange and uncomfortable feeling to be unsure of whether or not your parents know your secrets. What would they want me to say if they knew? What can I say without saying too much? Does anything need to be said at all? Maybe not. For cases like these, I like to keep quiet. Then–it’s settled. Great. Wonderful.

This afternoon I received a letter in the mail. I love getting letters in the mail. I love writing letters, too. I don’t feel that I have much to write about now as I did when I was in fourth grade, but I still appreciate any opportunity to compose a letter. In the letter I mentioned first, my aunty commissioned a Halloween drawing from me. So I drew up something really quick, but I’m not sure if I like it enough to send yet. I will work on more tomorrow, and consider displaying the uglier ones here. I don’t mind if drawing at home feels like a job. I don’t mind that there is a deadline that I must meet to feel entitled to cash this check. It is actually quite delightful, and I wish my entire work-life tasted the same.

Hey! I was just thinking–remember that time when I was sitting upstairs at four or five or six in the morning after a night of no sleep, listening to this song and feeling so far away and separated from the world? I remember it. I really needed a cat. Now I have two, and those nights come far less frequently. Even when they do, Zuko or Suki will always be there to keep me from falling into the dark. It sounds stupid. I know how it sounds. But, if only just a little, I am happier when I am living with a cat.
Do you remember that other time when I was blogging and listening to some really loud music, and being completely honest? It was nice to put myself out there, I think. It was rejuvenating, maybe, to feel that there was very little between us. I can’t really remember how it felt. I know that it must have felt nice at the time. I know that there is a certain addictive rush that comes with pressing the big blue Publish button after a big confession. But I don’t have anything to confess now, that I haven’t already confessed here before. I guess you’re out of luck.

Oh. I just thought of one thing. It’s a high school thing, and it used to be a big deal, but it’s only stupid and embarrassing now. And it’s not even the HA-HA kind of embarrassing. It’s the kind of embarrassing that makes people either admit to the same or feel really uncomfortable. But I was young. If I were to confess this thing, I wouldn’t feel like I was getting something off my chest that was bugging me. I would feel that you’d feel that I wanted attention. Or something. It’s not like that. And although it was something that happened in high school, I still understand why I did it. I mean, I wasn’t just being stupid and embarrassing myself. There were good reasons.


6 Responses to “i could watch you dance for hours”

  1. Matty October 20, 2011 at 11:46 am #

    This entry is one paragraph too short. 😉

  2. Bryant Komo November 3, 2011 at 12:57 pm #

    How would you feel about being commissioned for a drawing on a skateboard?

    • jenibo November 3, 2011 at 5:18 pm #

      I would loooove that! I’m not sure I could draw directly onto a skateboard comfortably, but if we could find a way to make a drawing from paper to some sort of stencil or sticker, or something, I think it could be cool.

      • Bryant Komo November 4, 2011 at 8:39 am #

        Typically, what I’ve been doing are one color stencils from pictures I get off the internet. The tricky part is stretching the image to fit the form factor of the board without distorting the image too much.

      • jenibo November 4, 2011 at 9:11 am #

        If you can send me the dimensions of the board, I can try to make a picture that would fit nicely, and then do that tracing thing.

      • Bryant Komo November 4, 2011 at 9:23 am #

        Finally got the press made and now I’m trying to get the materials together. It’s harder to find bamboo plywood than I thought. But when I finally finish it, or get another board to refinish, I’ll let you know.

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