I miss dancing!
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
It's all coming back to me now.
I guess it's time for this post. 2010 was such a life changing year for me. Literally. Not one thing is the same as it was last christmas. And I hate it. I hate that I don't feel at home anywhere. My childhood house feels like nothing. I don't even remember what it used to be. I don't feel anything. The apartment in Carlsbad is nothing to me. It's a bunch of scattered memories in a unfamiliar and unwelcome place. Nothing is right, it doesn't feel like I'm home. I would kill to have my family back. I would kill to have my life back.
Does it ever get easier? I was watching a movie trailer today about parents who lost their son and the mother asked that question. Her friend's response was, "No, but it becomes bearable." I guess that's true to some extent. But bearable doesn't mean everything's okay. It doesn't mean that I'm okay not being able to call my mother every day. It doesn't mean that I am strong enough to delete her number from my phone, because I'm not.
Sometimes I don't want to be an adult. I want to hug my mom. I want to complain and bitch out and throw a fit. And now every thought of her is just a flash memory or a quick glimpse at what it would be like if she were still here. If she'd seen me go off to school. If she'd seen me in Aladdin. If she knew all the things I was doing in Santa Cruz. If every time I came to Carlsbad I had something more than an empty apartment 10 hours a day. I just feel so disconnected when I'm here.
Christmas was always her favorite time of year. I can see her now, waking up on Christmas morning, usually at around 930, which made me so angry, considering I'd been up since 6. She'd have to go into the kitchen and make her cup of coffee and a bagel with cream cheese, or do something obnoxious to make my brother and I wait even longer for the gifts we knew were awaiting. And then my parents would come and sit down, my dad on the floor by the tree, so he could distribute the presents. And mom would act surprised by the gifts she bought for herself that she said was from my brother and I. I can just see her now playing her Wii, watching her Judge Judy or Judge Hatchet or Dr. Phil. Calling me into her room to watch some obnoxious case and asking who I thought was right, or on primetime tv, if Kelly Clarkson or Beyonce was performing, she'd scream until I came running in to watch with her. I miss her text messages. I miss her ridiculous voicemails. I miss her screaming and laughing at the television. I miss her romance novels. I miss her cooking. I miss her smile. I wish she could have seen me turn 21. I wish I could have had a margarita with her when I visited in August as my first official drink with my parents; I know she would have made a huge deal about it.
I guess there's nothing really to do but move forward right? Here's to 2011. Let's see what it has in store.
Does it ever get easier? I was watching a movie trailer today about parents who lost their son and the mother asked that question. Her friend's response was, "No, but it becomes bearable." I guess that's true to some extent. But bearable doesn't mean everything's okay. It doesn't mean that I'm okay not being able to call my mother every day. It doesn't mean that I am strong enough to delete her number from my phone, because I'm not.
Sometimes I don't want to be an adult. I want to hug my mom. I want to complain and bitch out and throw a fit. And now every thought of her is just a flash memory or a quick glimpse at what it would be like if she were still here. If she'd seen me go off to school. If she'd seen me in Aladdin. If she knew all the things I was doing in Santa Cruz. If every time I came to Carlsbad I had something more than an empty apartment 10 hours a day. I just feel so disconnected when I'm here.
Christmas was always her favorite time of year. I can see her now, waking up on Christmas morning, usually at around 930, which made me so angry, considering I'd been up since 6. She'd have to go into the kitchen and make her cup of coffee and a bagel with cream cheese, or do something obnoxious to make my brother and I wait even longer for the gifts we knew were awaiting. And then my parents would come and sit down, my dad on the floor by the tree, so he could distribute the presents. And mom would act surprised by the gifts she bought for herself that she said was from my brother and I. I can just see her now playing her Wii, watching her Judge Judy or Judge Hatchet or Dr. Phil. Calling me into her room to watch some obnoxious case and asking who I thought was right, or on primetime tv, if Kelly Clarkson or Beyonce was performing, she'd scream until I came running in to watch with her. I miss her text messages. I miss her ridiculous voicemails. I miss her screaming and laughing at the television. I miss her romance novels. I miss her cooking. I miss her smile. I wish she could have seen me turn 21. I wish I could have had a margarita with her when I visited in August as my first official drink with my parents; I know she would have made a huge deal about it.
I guess there's nothing really to do but move forward right? Here's to 2011. Let's see what it has in store.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Blast from the past.
I just logged into my old Yahoo! e-mail address from about 2006 until 2009 and found a whole mess of pictures I sent to myself for some reason? Check it out!
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