9:51 p.m. - October 06, 2003
Precipitous evenings are conducive to next-day organization
Earlier this year I did the groundwork necessary to establish a scholarship named after my grandfather at my alma mater, for a student studying urban environmental design. While I've seeded some money into the fund already, the bulk will be derived from the royalties from my first two books and thus the first award is scheduled for 2005. This morning I decided to add my refund from the IRS and if I continue to supplement through February, a disbursement will be ready in the fall of 2004. This afternoon I wrote a letter to my grandmother letting her know, and I hope she�ll be pleased. Undoubtedly she will lecture me on the importance of saving away and then remember she�s speaking to Jason and not my brother Jeff, and end up laughing because I was always stubborn anyways. And when she admonishes me for not spending the money on something for myself, I�ll be quiet for a moment and let it pass, but I�ll end up thinking about what she says and why it is my long-term plans don�t include me.
I was thinking about that this afternoon while driving home.
Tonight I ate a peach, talked to Rob about his mini-crisis of faith and my own struggles of reconciling wants and realities, turned off the lights and turned up the speakers. Right now I�m watching the lights from planes far overhead aiming towards San Francisco I think, or perhaps somewhere over the bay to my west they turn north or south to Oakland or San Jose. Between planes there�s an indigo sky and I�m encapsulated on the ground the same way those intrepid travelers are above, coming home after a trip or beginning a new one, except that in my bubble there isn�t an announcement reminding visitors to buckle seat belts.
Ryan will be a hockey buddy and ideally I will not feel awkward when we are just friends and spending time together; I will forget we�ve been intimate and all will be well. Exit Ryan not immediately, but inevitably.
Between Spec and Eli then, and I scoff because I know too well I�d rather be with someone I know instead of waiting for the real Eli to come out. How sad that makes me to recognize I trust myself so little and others not at all to suspect motives and reject interest in me out of hand as misguided and malevolent.
I miss my grandfather, miss the way he�d say how proud of me he was because no matter what I ended up doing, I�d excel. Is it wrong to be glad then, that he�s not around to see the mess now?
When I feel happy I feel guilty and sabotage myself so I quickly slide back into that familiar muck. I am amazed at times to know everybody is not this way and that somewhere, there exists choice and determination and a patina of success that deepens the longer it�s exposed.
