Patrick Wolf’s newest album came out a scant few months ago and I’ll be honest when I say it felt like my soul was healed a little thanks to it. There’s something about an artist from your youth making a comeback after over a decade away and it’s a feeling that’s almost like coming home, I suppose. Music—for me at least—serves as dots that connect my life from one point to the next, and there are very few musicians/bands that I listen to that tend to stick around this long so it’s a bit reassuring having a constant like that throughout the years.
The day rolled by of losing my sweet pug, and coming up is the 2nd anniversary of losing my dad. Grief is a weird thing in life; it’s like you’re in turbulent seas at first, afloat on a miserable little lifeboat, but after a while the storm calms down. Sometimes though, a big wave comes by and it feels like you’ll capsize again and it makes you remember the storm that got you lost at sea in the first place… but then, as every other big wave has, it passes by, and you can keep drifting along a little longer amongst smaller, more manageable waves.
I finally finished up the journal I’ve had for years (since I was 17!). Inconsistently writing entries, my tiny-ass handwriting, and my younger self’s tendency to smoosh as many entries onto a single page as possible meant that thing endured a lot of time and wear and tear (there was also the fact I was separated from it for months on end several times…). I still remember the day I braved the hot as hell summer heat to walk to Target back then to buy it, the walk back, and then settling down to write the first entry. That thing’s gone through a lot of big life changes with me, so it felt a little weird cracking open a new book to start fresh… but it was long past the time to do so. The funny thing about reading through ancient entries in a diary or journal is seeing how much some of you changes, but how much parts of you still reflect that same person.
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