Cornelia Boom: November 2014

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11:10 PM

im lost for words

but i'll do my best to find a few:

this thanksgiving im mostly thankful for friends and my dog

im thankful for my dog, and hidden keys, and basketball games that make your palms sweat

and i already regret not going to enough basketball games

but "it's just high school"

they say

"so shoot for the stars"

they say

"shoot for the stars if you want the moon."

but please, hunny,

why

would

shoot

for
something

i've

never

even

wanted.

today in english we were asked to write about our "philosophy of life"

mine was to be grateful

im not sure if it really is, but if i tell myself enough times that it is, i think it will be

so here it goes:

to number 1: thanks for taking my phone. a lot. i like it when you say "goodnight kiddo." right now that's about all i can think of, sorry.

to number 2: thanks for never saying happy birthday. sorry i still call you. it doesn't mean anything. your voice is just familiar. and sometimes feels like home.

to number 3: thanks for the 10th grade heartbreak. even though nothing happened. and i don't remember anything about US history. take me back, i could point out exactly where you used to sit

to number 4: thanks for changing how i see things. sorry i'm always tardy. i would tell you i'll work on it, but i probably won't. and i'm pretty sure you get this a lot, but top 3 heroes: my grandma, my mother, and you.

to number 5: thanks for doing my homework. and being my second mom. you're going to be the best mom. i wish i was as smart as you. then we could room together in college or something.

to number 6: thanks for the shoulder. sorry i stained it. hopefully it'll come out in the wash. (not everything does though, i've tried) sorry i was mean to you in elementary school. well, behind your back anyways.

to number 7: thanks for the butterflies, i guess. my favorite night was when you showed me your music and drew on my hand. the night we talked for hours before we even knew we got ditched. just know, that for me, i could think of a million things less painful than silence

to number 8: thanks for the soup. maybe i appreciated it so much because it doesn't come often. i hope you notice i still say i love you every time i leave for school. because i do.

and to number 9: thanks for every blue eye (of course). and sorry for all the times i've let you down. too many to count, i know. but i heard you could "name every grain of sand" so i dunno, maybe you can. sorry i promised you i wouldn't swear. sorry i promised you i wouldn't cry. and sorry i'm mean to my mom. just help me love her.

because number 9,

i promise.

i do.

and i'll keep reminding her in hopes that maybe,

someday,

she'll be strong enough to say it back.

crescendo

10:30 PM

my sister won't stop playing frosty the snowman, and i'm trying not to mind. because when i was 12, and resolute, i did just the same.

i've played the piano for 12 years now and every day the keys sound more and more like home. i have this one song i've loved since third grade. i think we all have that one song.

i've played the piano for 12 years now and i've never learned chopsticks. my teacher wouldn't allow it. but i didn't really care. i trusted her.

she told me i was supposed to dream about performing. she told me if i played fast enough i could forget any kind of scar. i don't know very much about sign language, but i knew my fingers could say anything close to unshakable. she told me i was supposed to play until my fingers bled, and not from pain, but from passion. from edvard grieg's death carols to shubert's unneccesary pedaling. my fingers bled.

they bled

i've been in love for 12 years now. i've been in love with mozart, and dot art, and that chill that runs down your neck when you hear something beautiful. i've been in love with reserved people, and cities, and pretty furniture with prettier stories. the kind you find in salt lake, or maybe just grandma's front porch. I don't know what it is about brick houses with white window panes, but one day, i have to have one.

i quit playing 6 months ago when i needed it most. my dreams were tainted, my scars weren't healing, and my fingers couldn't spell anything but broken. my finger tips bled, and not from passion, but from pain. from the 2 am playlists and the 3 am goodbyes. my fingers bled.

they bled

and i never understood why

so i tried again

so i put everything on the line

the notes,

the sharps,

the flats,

the dotted halves,

the heart.

i played on defeat splattered keys, but that never bothered me.

because i fell in love with every drop, and every finger. i fell in love with every finger that wiped them clean with ghosts, and backseat kisses, and every hymn that resembled some kind of imperfect redemption screaming:

"you're still alive"

and i was.

and i am.

and i always will be.

so until god believes my unshakable anthems should be played for only the angels:

then please,

take me with you.

after the storm - mumford and sons

11:56 PM

hurricanes are most common during the months of september through december.

maybe it's because the weather changes,

maybe it's because even the ocean is worried about christmas shopping,

and that wouldn't surprise me.

hurricanes always seem to hit me in november.

maybe it's because the weather changes,

maybe it's because of the ACT, i don't know,

that wouldn't surprise me either.

but this year, i think it's different

because november came like a downpour

november came like late night swims and cold blankets

and november is the 7th

november has pretty hair, and pretty music, and november doesn't even mind broken movie screens

november is anywhere between stupid parties or just your basement

november is beautiful, and scary, and young, and confused, but that doesn't matter because november is just seeing what happens.

and i like that.

i wish i could freeze time a little faster than our hands. i wish curfew was further north from the last place we drove, and i wish your favorite songs and unimportant letters were somehow forgotten easier than the first person i ever loved.

november was a downpour

november was a 6 foot 2 downpour

and november is just seeing what happens

and maybe,
one day,
maybe november will be december.

but if not, that's ok.

because november taught me to be happy:

even if there was a little rain

clocks

9:23 PM

im nothing except numb and cold and torn and speechless

i've always wished that i could turn back the clock

start over

try again

and today i got to

only an hour, but an hour, an hour is enough

we didn't do anything about it though

we turned our clocks back an hour, and we did absolutely nothing about it.

today was different

maybe it's because it got darker sooner

it got darker sooner and colder sooner

maybe it's because we set our clocks a little bit further away from death.

but if it was,

our clocks,

they failed us didn't they.

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crescendo

after the storm - mumford and sons

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