I've been putting blogging off because I wanted this hundredth post to be something very special. However, the past weekend has been, in a word, awful.
It shouldn't have been. My brother is on leave from Iraq and he managed to come see us for a few days. For only the fourth time in the past ten years, we've all been together: my mother, my two brothers, and I. As my favorite people in the world, I should've felt wonderful to have them all around me. But I didn't.
To say that I was irritable would be an understatement. We went to the zoo, I snapped at everybody most of the time, and I got heat exhaustion. I love the zoo. I love animals. I suppose part of the problem was only running on four hours of sleep. Things bothered me that shouldn't have.
My brothers bicker. That's what they do. They rag on each other and make threats. But this past weekend their behavior, one's in particular, bothered me more than usual. I don't understand why all they talk about is violent. Even if they don't mean it, it breaks my heart that all they do is wish other people injury and demise. The other drivers in traffic, in particular. And most of the time that we were at the zoo they spent talking about how they would hunt each species in the wild (except for the fun conversation where we picked which animals we would ride. I chose a giraffe. My brothers selected a hippo and a tiger). I don't like violence, and their preoccupation with it saddens me. I guess it was just too much on Thursday.
We got to eat at Winstead's, though. That was good.
The rest of the weekend was, for the most part, equally disastrous.
That's part of why I haven't wanted to blog about it. Maybe I shouldn't, but sometimes when I write my posts I think about posterity and what they will see if they read them. I don't want to be remembered as a person who was never happy or who was always complaining, never satisfied. I don't want to be remembered that way because that's not who I want to be.
Hardship is a part of life. I know that. And I think accounts of it are okay every once in a while (perhaps less than I post), but for my hundredth post, even if noone else ever finds it significant, I want something happy. Something wonderful. Something pleasantly memorable.
I could probably waste years waiting for that perfect event to record. I've been thinking, though. We're not going to remember the events of every day of our lives. Some, the big days, the ones that become significant, will stick with us always. But why wait for one of those to make a hundredth post? I think that even if we never recall it afterwards, there should be at least a moment of every day when we think, "Yes. I want to keep this." It doesn't have to be a huge affair, with gilded invitations and gift wrapping. It doesn't have to be big and loud and make itself heard. Even if it's just a tiny, fleeting second that passes quietly by, if it has that echo of perfection that sparks for an instant a splash of bliss, then that's worth recalling. That's worth the distinction of a hundredth post. And a 101st, and a 102nd, and every number thereafter.
Saturday night the stars held a convention. At least, that's what it looked like. They were clear and bright and more multitudinous than I have every seen them. They crowded together so that the sky almost looked like a piece of indigo mesh held over a bright light. There were no clouds and I heard no thunder, but there were bright, boltless flashes of lightning. The wind that night was my magic wind. Sometimes the wind is just soft with a smell and a feel to it like something is about to change, like something magical is about to happen. I love it when the air's like that. I just want to breathe it in forever.
That magic wind is why I didn't go to after-prom my senior year. When I left to go change after the prom, it was there, and I just couldn't go back among people. Not while the wind was calling to me.
The past two nights haven't had quite so many stars, but the faithful ones who have been out have shone for all they're worth.
Standing outside, staring up at the sky while every other care stops to wait...that feels like a moment worth remembering.
It's also nice to know that not too far away a friend is doing the exact same thing.
"We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand and melting like a snowflake. Let us use it before it is too late." -Marie Beyon Ray
Tonight I went to the singles' ward's FHE. We played Bigger or Better, a game in which the teams start out with a small thing and go door to door asking strangers to trade them something bigger or better. We cheated and borrowed a van from a teammate's cousin. I was against the idea. None of that is really what stands out to me, though.
No, on the way there my friends and I had been talking about Lady Gaga and how we all loved the song "Alejandro." As we were starting to head home, "My Life Would Suck Without You" was coming to an end on the radio. "Oh, man!" my friend said, "I wish 'Alejandro' would come on next." And you know something? It did.
Listening to: "Alejandro" by Lady Gaga
Reading: The Belgariad by David Eddings