ASJ IV: the Restrospective
Feb. 13th, 2010 12:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flamingsword"Sometimes
Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen to you.
Just got back from the memorial service for Albert, saw many faces that I remember the beta version of. There were recitations of poems and a song, and a couple of laptops with a picture slideshow. I talked a little at a podium about what Al had meant to me, listened to others talk about him, too. Last entry there were the stories, but this time there is how Albert made me feel.
Some people give of themselves. Al wasn't one of those people; he gave you back pieces of yourself when you'd lost sight of them. As I've gotten older, it has become more common for people to not yell at me. I hope some of that is my own doing, but a lot of it is that my friends grew up and became more understanding as people. Al was always that way. When he understood you, he really got it, so he was never upset or even disappointed, because he knew what you were and wasn't expecting you to never mess shit up. He would just quote you back at yourself to make you realize that you were being something you didn't want to be. He never offered me advice unless I asked him, because he believed in my own ability to fix my problems, and that was in pretty short fucking supply, too.
His friendship was weightless. It wasn't grounding, and didn't make me feel needed. Maybe I looked past it so easily because that's not what we're trained to look for in friendships, is it? But it was it's own thing, perfect unto itself. Our awesomeness was still in its infancy, and we didn't properly appreciate each other. I'm not going to berate myself for having been young, but I do regret that my friends didn't have this cooler version of me supporting them. Time's a funny thing. Experience is the thing you have right after you need it. :\
I don't know what he was to other people, but that was was he was like for me. He had no expectations of me. It was a relief.
Carolyn spent the night at my place last night, crashed out on the futon. We had port and told crazy stories and caught up. I got more in touch with the good-feelings side of the loss, but that just made the loss sharper today. I'll take the win for feeling my feelings, though.
Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen to you.
Just got back from the memorial service for Albert, saw many faces that I remember the beta version of. There were recitations of poems and a song, and a couple of laptops with a picture slideshow. I talked a little at a podium about what Al had meant to me, listened to others talk about him, too. Last entry there were the stories, but this time there is how Albert made me feel.
Some people give of themselves. Al wasn't one of those people; he gave you back pieces of yourself when you'd lost sight of them. As I've gotten older, it has become more common for people to not yell at me. I hope some of that is my own doing, but a lot of it is that my friends grew up and became more understanding as people. Al was always that way. When he understood you, he really got it, so he was never upset or even disappointed, because he knew what you were and wasn't expecting you to never mess shit up. He would just quote you back at yourself to make you realize that you were being something you didn't want to be. He never offered me advice unless I asked him, because he believed in my own ability to fix my problems, and that was in pretty short fucking supply, too.
His friendship was weightless. It wasn't grounding, and didn't make me feel needed. Maybe I looked past it so easily because that's not what we're trained to look for in friendships, is it? But it was it's own thing, perfect unto itself. Our awesomeness was still in its infancy, and we didn't properly appreciate each other. I'm not going to berate myself for having been young, but I do regret that my friends didn't have this cooler version of me supporting them. Time's a funny thing. Experience is the thing you have right after you need it. :\
I don't know what he was to other people, but that was was he was like for me. He had no expectations of me. It was a relief.
Carolyn spent the night at my place last night, crashed out on the futon. We had port and told crazy stories and caught up. I got more in touch with the good-feelings side of the loss, but that just made the loss sharper today. I'll take the win for feeling my feelings, though.
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no subject
Date: 2010-02-15 03:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-15 05:59 am (UTC)