20.49
Saturday
24 December 2005
All the time I was idealizing her to the last
possibility, I was perfectly conscious that she was about the
faultiest girl I'd ever met. She was selfish, conceited and
uncontrolled and since these were my own faults I was doubly
aware of them. Yet I never wanted to change her. Each fault
was knit up with a sort of passionate energy that transcended
it. Her selfishness made her play the game harder, her lack of
control put me rather in awe of her and her conceit was
punctuated by such delicious moments of remorse and
self-denunciation that it was almost—almost dear to me.
—F. Scott Fitzgerald on Zelda
• × • × • × •
Slade's playing Christmas music right beneath me, on the piano, and it sounds so good. He learned "Silver Bells" as well as he could as a present for Momma, and it was absolutely gorgeous. And I sang with it a little, and had my eyes closed and when I opened them he was looking at me, and then we both cracked up.
"Are you laughing at me because I was getting into the singing?!"
"... YES!"
• × • × • × •
I've been thinking far too long and far too hard as of late about the nature of insanity, and I think it is bringing me closer to the brink in some ways. I like it when I know someone doesn't take their sanity for granted, and I think it's an important enough feature that I am constantly focused on the things about me that are mad; I also think it's important enough not to lose yourself to it that I keep a constant monitor on those things.
But I am a little envious of people like Zelda Fitzgerald, who didn't give a damn whether anyone thought she was insane, including herself, and was impatient and impenetrable and vulnerable and willful, all in such a vital way that she eluded everyone, had an inward life and feelings that no one ever touched.
She probably thought terribly dangerous secret thoughts.
I hold strongly to the belief that everyone worth knowing has a touch of insanity to them: thus it doesn't feel incorrect or unfaithful to me for me to say that my family has probably got a touch more of the crazy gene than is average. Generally, however, I think we are masterful at dealing with it in healthy ways and trying to keep it from hurting other people. Christmas is a little bit hard for everyone because of the high expectations for happiness and familial comraderie, I think, but I'm proud of my mom and dad and brother (and me!) for the ways that we cope. And then surpass expectations.
• × • × • × •
Soon we're going to go downtown to St. John's for Christmas carols, something we've never done before, but I'm a bit excited about. Beautiful churches hit me hard.
• × • × • × •
