The Victor's Pillow

I'm sitting here... with my root beer... kicking off my shoes under my desk and leaning back in my chair. My head is slightly cocked back and tilted to the righ over its black leather top, and I eye the computer screen looking down on it from a slight uphill tradjectory. I slow down my breating... stop... and look around my room for a few moments. Notice that my florescent light is not on. There is one dead bug sitting in its casing... I bet it's a wasp, or some type of vespid. It is so nice to have lamps instead of florescents. One lamp, to my left, is on, which provides me with just enough light to relax and still be able to see all of my domain. I stop and look again... a shiver runs down my arms, but it is a warm shiver, not one from fear or cold. It is one of comfort like the feeling of getting into a warm car after eating a good lunch on a cool day. But then the thought comes. If I am going to get comfortable, do I want to go ahead and get into my pajamas, or do I stay sitting here still wearing my church cloths from earlier this morning? But I'm so comfortable now. If I were to get up, would I be able to return to this point in time? I may never know. Uncertainty is the every footstep of life, so I might as well risk it all for the sake of the adventure... So I stand up out of my comfortable chair. I dig out of my pockets all of the items which regularly inhabbit them, placing my keys and some petty cash out of my right pocket onto my desk, immediately followed by the retrieval of my wallet out of my back pocket which is then placed precariously next to my keys. My shirt and my dress pants come off in turn and are immediately hurled into my laundry closet where they shall remain until a drought of cloths forces me to wash them... could be weeks... Now I sit in my comfortable soft pajama pants with red chilli peppers sprinkled about their design. My thin undershirt draws my attention to the soft hum of my airconditioner behind me. My shoulders get a bit chilled, so I rub them a few times in attempts to keep them warm.

"What a day this has been."

I think quietly to myself.

"I've done so much work in such a short ammount of time... and I feel pretty good abou it. I enjoy the feeling and adventure of successfully procrastinating."

A stack of papers on my bed serves as a trophy of my exploits. They are the last twist of the blade in the chest of this semester. It is only fitting that Chopin's Nocturn should play softly from my computer speakers as this school year drains of blood, lying on the floor gasping for its last breath. An exam here... and exam there... and then... it is done. I will have won, yet again, in battle against one more school year. The last drops of my root beer flow over my lips as this disturbing illustration somehow brings a smile to my heart. The bed calls soon. The victor's pillow is always the softest.

It is good, though, to have good friends. I do not speak of names directly very often in my journal, but tonight I find no wrong in it. Brian Boggs has been a true friend to me as of late. We talk once, maybe twice a week about our struggles and concerns, as well as our happiness and fortunes. We cried together over Phillip. We laughed together when the tears dried up and his joyous memory remained. He is one of the only people on this earth who I feel completely comfortable sharing all of my woes and worries with. He never belittles them if he knows I am sincere about them... that is unless, of course, I am dreadfully wrong in my train of thought. In that case he is very quick to correct. A man might consider himself blessed if he were to have one of the five friends I have grown up with. Brian, thanks for being there brother.

Tomorrow comes swiftly, but I shall take it in stride. I can finally taste my goals and there is nothing else in sight. It is a short lasting time of enjoyment and reflection. I must, however, get some sleep as I fear I might be fighting off some sort of ailment. That is the least of the things I need right now, but if it must be, then so be it. I would consider it to be only a seasoning on the challenges I have just endured. It all seems so gracefull to me right now. All of the emotions, highs, and lows of this year seem orchestrated like a beautiful song or choreographed like an elegant dance. Everywhere I look right now I see something beautiful. It is as if I have been detached from the world all of the sudden. I don't feel quite all here. Part of this could be the lack of sleep which I have taken upon myself to wrestle with, or it could be that a new strength in me has awakened. Reguardless I am continuously lulled by Chopin as his Nocture plays repeatedly, though this shall be it's last repetition. I must retire now to a state of confusion and vulnerability. I must now dream. Peace and love.