Currently Living & The Dead By Jolie Holland Painted Yourself In see related

It's been more than a month since my last entry. That is by far the longest I've gone without writing anything here.

To be honest, I've just kind of forgotten about it. Between school essays, and meeting a TON of new people, it's really fallen through the cracks. I find myself really wanting to write, but it's always stuff I feel uncomfortable writing about here, so it goes elsewhere.

I wish I could write half as fast as I could type. I'd go back to the jounaling thing. But I just end up getting frustrated, and my hand just ends up getting cramped.

Anyway.

The good thing about meeting new people is that I am more likely to meet new writers, which always inspires me. And it always surprises me how obvious it is to other writers that I am one. Or, that I should be one if I'm not. Somehow always when I'm describing the day in Venice.

I was talking with new friend Steve about the day trip to Venice, and realized I probably hold it on a pedestal as the most perfect day of my life. I daydream about it, I hold every other day of my life to that standard (I've been dissapointed since, might want to change that M.O.), and generally find myself longing for that feeling of awe combined with that atmosphere of simplicity. It's what's caused my long lost Venice ring to have so much meaning; more meaning than I've ever allowed myself to attach to an inanimate object before that, or since it.

Which has led me to the conclusion that as great as it sounds, I'm never going to go back. Hell, I barely want to go to NY for my NYU interview, because if I don't get in, that's one more chance at NYC that was shot. And probably the last one I have the energy to take. Especially knowing that I want to come back here when I'm done going wherever I'm going for school, if I get in anywhere.

With Venice, I don't want to ruin that perfect day. Or, lose it, rather. It's nice to have something to look back on and remember how that felt. And the colors! Oh, the colors. What if they're not as bright as I remember them? What if the food isn't as amazing? What if the gondoliers aren't as friendly? Then what?

I would really rather not know.

Oh god. I really am dramatic. (I'm making a disgusted face right now in my cubicle...and I can't undo it!)