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look up look way up - 2000-08-31
This is the part where I tell you about my trip. I haven't actually 'stargazed' how I define 'stargazing' (literal) since I became 'stargazer'. Follow? Whateva. I did get a chance to stargaze, in a provincial park on a splintered picnic table. All I could think about was exactly how I was feeling twenty five months ago the first time I did it: alone. I layed on that table alone, everywhere. Alone with everybody. It was sad, an important revelation, yet sad and depressing, the kinds of feelings that make me want to find my slot car racing set, and watch them spinout and break all day. This time, I brought Kim. I didn't lay, but I felt the same feelings and asked the same questions. It was such a moment... And I shared it with somebody, who was there for me. I am so not alone with everything anymore. I feel a part of most things. This validated my love, made me want to, well, think of 'what if?'. The stars for me, are a big step. Ironically enough, underneath our picnic table that night was a marriage proposal scrawled in the sand that we didn't notice until we were about to leave... I will admit, I have been thinking a lot about our relationship and commitments and the future, especially with her moving away in two days. It's pretty scary, and pretty damn exciting. But don't read the wrong things into these words... At the very tip of Lighthouse Point at the end of Killbear Provincial Park stands a lighthouse designed like a small smokestack. Completely hollow and straight, no inclines. I tried to open the door, but was only greeted with a loud, echoing, tinny noise. This is where Kim and I ended our weekend. The lighthouse itself was as mediocre as Tobermory's, but the rest was breathtaking. Waves crashed on rocks undescribable in texture and shape, looking kind of like a rolodex of stone. I had never walked on anything like them... And I've been around a lot of Lake Huron. On a lot of these rocks were painted and etched couples' names... A guy and a girl and a year. One couple had almost every year from 1976 to 1996, I think... Normally I find graffiti quite annoying, but I let this pass. I could see the romance and the urge. I could feel it. Waves crashing on three sides of you, it's almost automatic to want to make your love public. You could scream it, but no one would hear it except the rocks and the lake and other parts of God. If I had only had some paint... I wanted people to see: + Kim 2000 (And then maybe/hopefully 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006...) I wanted people to see that until the rocks eroded or nuclear holocaust. Whateva comes first. Also: I saw a bear. He walked right by our campsite. Close.
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