2007-01-06 1:14 a.m.
Love
Seasons of Love
COMPANY
525,600 minutes,
525,000 moments so dear.
525,600 minutes -
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights,
In sunsets,
In midnights,
In cups of coffee,
In inches,
In miles,
In laughter,
In strife...
In 525,600 minutes -
How do you measure a year in the life?
How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love;
Seasons of love.JOANNE
525,600 minutes!
525,000 journeys to plan.
525,600 minutes -
How can you measure the life of a woman or man?COLLINS
In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried;
In bridges he burned,
Or the way that she died.COMPANY
It’s time now to sing out, though the story never ends.
Let's celebrate, remember a year in the life of friends.
Remember the love!
Remember the love!
Remember the love!
Measure in love.
Seasons of love!
Seasons of love.
The more time passes, the more I realize just how social we human beings are. We need our friends, families, pets, WHATEVER, just to even be normal.
The past two, three days have been really mellow. Just lots of catching up with my college friends. I missed them a lot. I was up until 5 this morning talking with one, and both us us had classes before 10. It was bad. We went to breakfast at seven with some other friends of ours, and then left for our classes. Class wasn't bad.
He told me something interesting yesterday, though. We were talking about one of our other friends and how we hoped that she wouldn't be stuck seeing someone in one of her classes because he's a total asshole, and then somehow that flowed into how much I had missed them whilst I was separated from them. (I live four hundred miles away from the closest college friend.) He told me that they had all talked about how much they missed me while I was gone, and that I had really made an impact or something like that. I don't remember the exact phrasing, but then I never do.
Needless to say, that surprised me. I kind of thought I was just kind of a hanger-on, the random kid from Los Angeles hanging out with all the Bay Area kids for no better reason than that they put up with her. Clearly I have self-esteem issues. But it still really surprised me. I'm more loved than I thought I was.
Love. Liebe. Amor. Amour. Amore.
Strange what power such a vague concept has over us all.
Last Christmas, that being 2005, my best home friends and I started a traveling scrapbook. My best friend started it on the 24th at seven PM, to match with the ten PM EST that Mark sings about in Tune-up #1 on the OBC Rent Soundtrack. The first thing ever written in that scrapbook was the lyrics to Seasons of Love.
The first time anyone in my group of best friends ever said "I love you" to anyone else, was right after we saw the movie version of RENT together.
Now, we toss the word "love" around all the time, to the minor shock of some extremely uptight people in the near vicinity.
Love. Such a strange idea. One which we place such importance on. Yet most of us seek it in all the wrong places, I think, and it took me until yesterday to realize it. We look for love in the context of a one-on-one relationship with a significant other, when really, most of us would be using the word far more correctly if we only applied it to our friends.
I guess I don't need to worry about the love resolution I made. I already found it, I just needed to realize it.
Still, though. It's a strange realization to make. Especially since love is the ultimate loss of control. There's nothing else in this life that is less about you and more about someone else.
I'm not even making sense in my own head right now, so it's probably bedtime. Night.
Sleep well knowing that your friends, at the very least, love you.
