I'm not sure if it is a feeling as though I have so much that I would like to say or that I wish there was so much that I could say.  I've been having a lot of that lately.  It probably has a lot to do with the fact that I'm not really writing much at all these days and what I do write isn't good or serious- meaning things I'm not really excited about.
 
Margot and I rented a movie tonight, Anniversary Party (recommended by this awesome girl I know named Meghan) and I guess I liked it because somehow I feel determined to start something new.  It's a welcomed change.  I had so many intentions this summer that have gone unfulfilled that it's sad that I feel almost like I've wasted another time span where I could have utilized my free time better.  The fact that I have officially turned nocturnal is proof positive that things are messed up in my head right now.  I've been hiding and I know this.  Well, it's time to pay up.  Now I just need an idea.  In the car I was thinking of so many detached thoughts that if I wrote any of them it would probably be more the makings of poetry than short fiction, which isn't bad but more out of character for me. 
 
It would be interesting to me to see what I could if every sentence or word choice I deleted was pasted onto a separate document for later consideration.  That may be my next collection.  Yeah, probably.  I am, after all, a giant nerd. 
 
I've been thinking a lot about my grandpa lately and it's bothering me.  Tonight I realized that the last 4 times I went to visit family it was "grandpa" related before and after he died.  And I get this pit in my stomach every time.  I discovered, also on the drive home, that when I get really upset my chin sort of wrinkles.  I wonder how long it will be before I can visit my family and not think and get sad over the loss of both my grandparents now.  I do miss them...  It's weird thinking about people you love dying and you dying yourself.  I don't see them in the same way.  I'm not saying that I think that my grandparents both dying of cancer is some tragic affair but it somehow stays unsettled in me whereas when I think about my own death- whenever that will be- I am much more calm about it.  I don't feel loss when I think of losing my own life.  Does that make sense?  So, I have to go burry my grandpa, finally, on Saturday and I'm really not looking forward to it.  It will be another day clouded by grief where I will feel ignorned and unnecessary by every one who is supposed to love me.  For some reason though I'm looking forward to the cemetary.  I always do.  I just wish that the invitation/write up for it wasn't still hanging on the kitchen counter.  I'm not down with the daily reminder that I'm off to a (I guess I could say another) funeral this weekend.  I think about shit like this enough, I don't need a fucking poster to see everyday.  Damn you mom.  I hate living at home.
 
So now that I've managed to depress myself again...
 
Here is a wish list for tomorrow.
 
I wish for a phone call.
I wish for a kind word.
I wish for a fresh feeling, a sense of accomplishment that doesn't involve working in a bookstore.
I wish for an email.
I wish to laugh.
 
I'll settle for one of those.  I guess now all I can do is wait and see what the day will truly bring. 
 
(on a side note.  before I was going to publish this post I wanted to actually look and read my grandpa's obiturary because I realized that I never had.  Who would have thought you'd have to pay $3.50 to read your grandfathers life summed up in about 50 words.  I love this world we live in.)