Thursday, July 05, 2007
Can I handle the seasons of my life
4:30 am: Firecrackers right outside my window had woken me up an hour earlier and I am lying in bed, unable to go back to sleep, despite being absolutely exhausted.
I am thinking of how to end things with Oscar. Oscar who had called me on Sunday, then promised to call on Monday and I haven't heard from him since. I finally broke down and called him last night (late, around 11:45ish), despite that I generally am violently opposed to calling someone that has promised to call me. He didn't answer and he didn't call me back.
I am remembering all the nights that I waited for calls from Scott. Calls that didn't come.
I poke my mental fingers at the emotional bruises caused by the months of silence following The Consumation of Marc. And curse myself for the thrill I felt at text I received yesterday from him where he called me 'baby'.
I remember my street in Portland, OR. The street where I spent countless hours, riding up and down it on my bike, waiting for my dad to show up. For the fleeting moments of my life when he would be fulfill his parental obligation. I wonder sometimes if he denied me his love the most because I was the one who wanted it the most desperately.
I feel anxious.
I feel helpless.
I feel sadness.
Not able to escape my mind this time, unable to talk myself down from my Tower of Irrational Fear of Rejection, I head into the living room to distract myself with re-runs of Fresh Prince of Bel Air. It keeps my demons at bay long enough for exhaustion to take over.
___________________________________________________________________
11:30 am today
I am talking to my sister, who informs me that my childhood best friend, Shauna, had called our mom to get a more current email address for me.
Tiff: Oh, by the way, Mom told Shauna that you aren't going to church anymore. (Shauna is quite devout and it will cause quite a stir that I am no longer attending)
Me: Really? Why did she tell her that?
Tiff: Because Mom's new plan is to shame you into going back to church.
And my day officially just got worse.
Going home next week is going to be SO joyful. I can tell already.
Can I please just go home and bury my head under my covers with a big box of Godiva chocolates?
Today's Title from: Landslide by Fleetwood Mac
I am thinking of how to end things with Oscar. Oscar who had called me on Sunday, then promised to call on Monday and I haven't heard from him since. I finally broke down and called him last night (late, around 11:45ish), despite that I generally am violently opposed to calling someone that has promised to call me. He didn't answer and he didn't call me back.
I am remembering all the nights that I waited for calls from Scott. Calls that didn't come.
I poke my mental fingers at the emotional bruises caused by the months of silence following The Consumation of Marc. And curse myself for the thrill I felt at text I received yesterday from him where he called me 'baby'.
I remember my street in Portland, OR. The street where I spent countless hours, riding up and down it on my bike, waiting for my dad to show up. For the fleeting moments of my life when he would be fulfill his parental obligation. I wonder sometimes if he denied me his love the most because I was the one who wanted it the most desperately.
I feel anxious.
I feel helpless.
I feel sadness.
Not able to escape my mind this time, unable to talk myself down from my Tower of Irrational Fear of Rejection, I head into the living room to distract myself with re-runs of Fresh Prince of Bel Air. It keeps my demons at bay long enough for exhaustion to take over.
___________________________________________________________________
11:30 am today
I am talking to my sister, who informs me that my childhood best friend, Shauna, had called our mom to get a more current email address for me.
Tiff: Oh, by the way, Mom told Shauna that you aren't going to church anymore. (Shauna is quite devout and it will cause quite a stir that I am no longer attending)
Me: Really? Why did she tell her that?
Tiff: Because Mom's new plan is to shame you into going back to church.
And my day officially just got worse.
Going home next week is going to be SO joyful. I can tell already.
Can I please just go home and bury my head under my covers with a big box of Godiva chocolates?
Today's Title from: Landslide by Fleetwood Mac
