Chelsea

So, here I am. 1 year and 2 days from the day I moved to Los Angeles. It's been longer than that since I last shot for Burning Angel, to put it into perspective. I have no idea why it's taken me so long to post a journal. Maybe it's lack of time, maybe it's because I feel like no one really gives a shit what's going on in my warped little head. I don't care if you read this, actually. It should be written down somewhere, so I choose here. You can read or disregard and continue yanking your crank. Who cares?

1 year and 2 days later, nothing is how I expected it to be. Today is September 11th, and catastrophe is still invading the lives of humans everywhere on a daily basis. Only now, there is no blind nationalism. There is no blind faith. There is no guilt, masked as hope to propel us to become the people we wish could take credit for being. In the place of those terribly noble notions, there is widespread fear, loss of interest, cold shoulders. Anniversaries are a hard thing to celebrate, I think...even the anniversary of happy events, like moving to a city full of angels.

Recognizing the birthday of some occurance is typically just depressing. You can try and mask the sadness with fond nostalgia, but all in all, it usually just feels feigned. It is.