Sorry I Missed You

It’s remarkable how time has the ability to change everything. Memories fade, people who were once important fade into your history. Pain you thought would never heal slowly turns into nothing more than a sore spot, flaring up again when something, anything, triggers your memory. Our lives, our beings, are cast by our experiences. No individual is the same. Everyone is inimitable. This seems trite; a message drilled into our heads as little children in an attempt to raise self esteem, and convince us all that we are as special as our mothers think we are. This phrase, while stale and tired, is completely true. It is a fact that our life occurrences shape us in every single way. Every decision we make, every thought we think, every moral fibre intertwined within us, is there because of something else. Some determining factor. If you look deep enough, really look, you can find a reason for nearly everything you do.
Because I am slowly developing independence, I have been trying desperately to find some time to myself. And I’ve succeeded. I am finding time to sing, time to write, and time to think. This time, these treasured moments of solitude and self reflection, have shown me things I never knew I possessed. Neil’s meticulousness and demand for sincerity in all meaningful relationships. Gloria’s music and passion for history. Dave’s easy going manner, and respect for all those who are deserving. Kathleen’s emotional unsteadiness . Her ability to read people, even if it hurts to interpret. I am all this, and more. A muddle of people. Of blood and exterior influence. Neither more important than the other, but all imperative in making me who I am.
I love you. Despite everything. Really. I tell people I don’t care about you, that you are undeserving of my affection, and therefore you mean nothing to me. You have failed, I tell everyone, and you are nothing in my life anymore. I cringe when compared to you, and I unleash my emotional claws on anyone who is brash enough to make the connection. But inside, I am soaring. Happy to have a connection with anyone. Even if all you’ve never done anything to deserve it. The fragility of our relationship (if it even exists anymore) is profound .We care, but we don’t ask how one another is doing. We love, but we will never see each other again.
Happy birthday.

Sono libero

I have decided that I am never coming home.
Perhaps you are waiting for a further explanation. She has to be joking. She is going to use that phrase and cleverly blend it into a metaphore to express how much she is enjoying herself.

Except, I'm not. I never want to come back. I never want to leave this Island. I'll stay here forever. I'll become perfect in the language. I'll marry an Italian. Have lots of tan babies. I'll teach English. I'll do whatever it takes. I have never been so completely happy in my life. Perhaps its because nothing matters anymore. I am who I am. I am not tied down by preordained misconceptions. I have friends I have family. I have the sea. I have my wonderful bed. I have freedom, responsibility, and new expectations. I have life, and I love it.

For the first time in my life, I am uninhibited. Who I am is not tainted by irresponsibility and sin and trash and stupidity.

I am only me.

Don't run off in the pouring rain.

I don’t even talk about you anymore.
Invariably, you come up in conversation. But once again I feel those pangs when I mention your name.
Why aren’t I over this?
I thought we were over this?
Everyone misses theres. “We’re so close!” they say.

Is it cultural, or are we missing something? Something besides the obvious; eachother.

Whats wrong with us?

life is so good i am waiting for the downfall

As I sit here in Sicily, my life is unfolding around me. Everything is good. Isn’t that odd’ How many people can say that there lives are completely worry free. Everything is happy. I am happy. It is blissful to feel as if nothing is wrong.

What have I accomplished? What have I made of myself? I am here, in Italy. Learning Italian. Bathing in the meditteranian sun. My white skin is slowly turning bronze. My blonde hair is becoming lighter as the sun bleaches and sparkles my dark golden locks. My face is clear, my mind is free. What have I done to deserve this? Neinte.

I talked to Dave yesterday. He bought Ellen a truck. And a credit card for gas money. And he pays for the insurance.

She’s 14 years old.

He calls it being a good parent. I call it being a stupid ass who is going to spoil his daughter right into the fiery inferno of hell.

Ignorance is bliss, I suppose.

Arrivaderci amore, ciao.

I’ll wait here to cheer you on? I’m tired of waiting.

life is so good i am waiting for the downfall

As I sit here in Sicily, my life is unfolding around me. Everything is good. Isn’t that odd’ How many people can say that there lives are completely worry free. Everything is happy. I am happy. It is blissful to feel as if nothing is wrong.

What have I accomplished? What have I made of myself? I am here, in Italy. Learning Italian. Bathing in the meditteranian sun. My white skin is slowly turning bronze. My blonde hair is becoming lighter as the sun bleaches and sparkles my dark golden locks. My face is clear, my mind is free. What have I done to deserve this? Neinte.

I talked to Dave yesterday. He bought Ellen a truck. And a credit card for gas money. And he pays for the insurance.

She’s 14 years old.

He calls it being a good parent. I call it being a stupid ass who is going to spoil his daughter right into the fiery inferno of hell.

Ignorance is bliss, I suppose.

Arrivaderci amore, ciao.

I’ll wait here to cheer you on? I’m tired of waiting.

This Sunday is going to be amazing.

Conditional Surrender

Since I was a little girl, I’ve dreamed of contacting my biological family again. Surely, my 6 year old brain thought, they must miss me? They must wonder, they must speculate how I’m doing? What I look like now? What I enjoy, and find objectionable? For as long as I can remember, I’ve been in this mindset. I was sure I was missing something. I was envious of all the other kids. In preschool, while all of the parents would sit around the playground and chitchat about the day their children were born, I would sit with my mom as she shifted awkwardly. She didn’t even know me when I was that age. I could sense the discomfort etched in her face, the longing to just be like everyone else. I could relate t to that feeling.
I hated telling people. When my childhood friends would ask why I don’t look like my parents (at all…actually) I would shrug it off, and tell them I looked like my Irish grandmother. My parents even repeated this lie to people who were nosy. When I was finally gutsy enough to actually tell people, their questions were just as I had feared.
“Were you in an orphanage?” they would squeal, eyes rotund with wonder “ Why didn’t anybody want you?”

Such are the scattered memories from my early days. Not that this obsessed my life . Goodness no. I was regular in so many ways. But there has always been something..different in my way of thinking.

I dreamed about how wonderful it would be to see my mother again, and to finally have someone who I could relate to. Someone who would instinctually be like me. Someone who, I fantasized, would love me in such a profound way that I would marvel how I ever lived without her.

When I sought my mother out, she was just as emotional as I had expected. She cradled me (I was 14...so this was highly inappropriate.) She cried, and tucked my hair behind my ears. “My baby, my baby” she kept murmuring. In the perfect world, we would have fallen madly in love with one another again. We would share letters and phone calls, making up for lost time. I would feel wanted, accepted. She would finally do what she was supposed to.

In reality, I found a drunken immature drug addict who loves only herself. I found a father who, despite his good intentions, cannot separate love from discipline. I found a sister who just wants me to get the hell out of her life, so she doesn’t have to share any of what she has worked so hard to maintain.

The disappointment weighs heavy on me. Heavier than anyone will ever know.

I don’t know whether it is the fact that I’m getting older, or the fact that I am too disappointed to bounce back, but I am finally at the point where I can attempt to let it go.

What I was searching for was closer than I had ever imagined.

You Underestimated Me, Hun.

Skipper is the cutest thing in the universe.

And everything is falling into place exactly as it should.

For once, I don't feel guilty for being happy.

I am doing what I am supposed to.

I'M THE FIRST ONE DAVE.

It's all ending with me.

I've been doing a lot of relfection.( Uh oh! I smell a long post) I often do so when I know that my life is about to change drastically. As it is about to do.

Perhaps the biggest perk about leaving the country in 10 days, is that I don't have to interact with my psychopath sister and her father who is in denial about her level of psychoneuroses anymore. When I started contact with them again ( seven years ago..wow), everything was great. I felt so..complete. I felt like I knew what I had been missing all those years. I talked to my mother again, which was emotionally draining and fucking scary as hell, but I'm glad I did it. She gave me some real insight without meaning to. I realized not only am I so happy I have nothing to do with her, but I will never, ever be her. Which quite frankly, I am so relieved to know. I give the woman credit, because I could never do what she does. I could never live with myself knowing that people needed me, and I was powerless to help them. I could never willingly desert the ones who are supposed to be most important to me. She has skewed my whole view of motherhood. I read and hear that your children are the most important thing in the world to you. You'd do anything for them. They are the core of your being. This really..messes with me. I won't lie, I think about it from time to time. And I realize there is always going to be something I am missing. Something that I can't put a finger on, but I know is present.While her unique absence in my life is debilitating, however, it has also made me appreciative.

I'm leaving to study abroad for a year! Fucking take that Ellen you dumb bitch! You are absolutely such a failure, and I hate you more than you can ever fathom. Fuck fuck fuck you! Go hang out with your ponies baby, because they are going to be the last thing thats going to tolerate your bullshit.


I felt every ounce of me screaming out. It's so hard to do what I must.

Lazy days and sexual cats

I spend my days laying in bed, listening to audio books on my iPod. Occasionally, I'll get up and go for a run, or I'll write a college essay or two. But mostly, I listen. My kitten, Mozart, loves these moments. It is exactly what he loves to do. He spends most of his day sleeping alone up on the rocking chair in my mothers study, so when he has the chance to sleep near me on my comfortable bed, he's all for it. He purrs and nuzzles and does all of those sensual things that cats do. I cover my face with blankets and pillows, and I sit with my little iDog. Yes. I have an iDog. It's a little stuffed dog (that my dad insists is a bear) that has built-in speakers in him. You plug in your iPod to a little wire that trails out of his back, and snuggle/listen all you please.

Today has not been noteworthy in the slightest. I do all the things I always do. It seems a little strange that my life is about to change so drastically, when everything seems so banal.

12 more days. What will the year bring forth I wonder?

The Unbearable Lightness

Yellow moon on the rise,
Big birds flying across the skies,
Throwing shadows on our eyes.
Leave us

Everything I write is psychobabble.
Nothing makes sense. I struggle to string together coherent sentences, but nothing seems to flow.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, bleeding out the wickedness that settles on my tongue.
I am tired, I am anxious, I am ecstatic, I am old.

All I do is watch reruns of House , drink elderberry/pear water, and stress until my brains ooze out every crevice of my face.

Everyone tries to please me, unaware of the fact that I live to please others.
Everyone tries to coddle and appease me; but nothing has any effect.

When I was little, Gale would set in front of me various artistic substances. Clay, scented markers, watercolor pencils, and crayons. She would talk to me, pick apart my brain with her bony little fingers, as I drew ponies and faeries and butterflies and cats.

"Why wont you talk to me?" she would ask. "You can tell me things.You can trust me "

I would ignore her. I would scribble on my paper, crunch the crayons; mash the clay between my 8 year old fingers. I would babble on and on about dinosaurs and pinwheels and the ducks at central park. I would tell her about my teacher, Mrs. Alfano and how she had unusually small feet.

I claim to be older now, well past my childhood embarrassment.

But every time someone mentions the word, I get acutely aware of my surroundings. I am mortified. I could die of shame. I keep it a secret though. I just become quiet and subdued, ignoring the pain that tears through my ribcage.

crack, crack, crack,crack, crack.

Big birds flying across the sky,
throwing shadows on our eyes.
They leave us helpless.

Happy Borthday

I have a new baby sister.
Which, is nice. I guess.
I won't actually meet her, but it's still a nice thing to think. At least, I like to think that she will be more like me than like Ellen. I'm happy for her in the sense that she is fortunate enough to get the hell out before she realizes that she is trapped.

Trapped trapped trapped trapped. Like one of those cute little fox's who has to gnaw its own leg off to free itself.

No matter what she does, she'll be stuck.

Contrary to popular belief, it doesn't matter how much love is showered upon you. It always haunts you. It always fucking hurts. It sends a pang of grief over you every time you go to someones house. Every time you meet someone who reminds you. Every time someone enters your life, and every time someone leaves it. Rejection is sensitive, you are an alien.

I am a fox. I chew and chew and claw through sinew and flesh and finally bone. The marrow rots my teeth and burns my lips. But I keep going, afraid of what will happen if I stop.

Happy birthday.

I'm leaving in like..two weeks. And for some reason I am feeling something completely inappropriate.

I am anxious and sad.

I'm excited to go on a plane and pack and get into Rome and have a completely fun and enriching experience. But I'm totally abandoning my comfort zone, and that makes me completely depressed and scared.

I'm not going to have any friends for a while. I won't be able to just call up Erica. I'm afraid I'm going to get there and then be completely sad. And cry. And write letters to people.
Looking back, I've moved a couple of times. So I'm used to relocating. But it's always such a big change. Change makes me so nervous.

I am actually ready to throw my hands up and be like "FORGET IT! I'm staying here and going to LVPA"

Except I can't because we spent money and my parents would get angry and I would miss out on something that is supposed to make me mature and make me more worldly.

i'm such a fucking pussy.


i miss you every single day.

Beating the Bounds

I spent the better part of this morning curled up on one of the reclining chairs, tissue box in hand, watching TNT and musing about how wrong everyone is.

I was told today, by an ever well-meaning source,that I am the same as Ellen. I am the same as Kathleen, and I am the same as himself.

if only that was even remotely true. I am not some primitive beast. I have never been arrested for assault. I have never so much as beat anyone up. I've never had a drug problem ,or an alcohol problem. I am not a stupid selfish spoiled little bitch who doesn't give a shit about anybody else.I will never go to jail.I will never snort cocaine. I'm not even sure if you CAN snort cocaine. I am not shallow, and I certainly am not Ellen Dave or Kathleen.

You're happy your a Rodger, because the Rodgers are crazy and fun?

Well I'm happy I'm not a Rodger anymore, because you're all too fucked up for me.

Women in Cacti with a Curled Up Rat!

I have no interest in men.

Now wait wait. Don't get the wrong idea.

I'm not a lesbian or anything.

I just simply, do not have any interest in dating, or getting married.

Isn't that fucking strange as hell?

I see Erica who texts Alex 287410412412's a day. She loves talking to him! And its clear he loves talking to her to. A lot of my friends are dating, and they fall head over heals hopelessly in love with some grubby, horny teenage boy. Then, once the relationship ends, (as it always does), they are devastated. Crushed.

When I date, it's only because someone has asked me, and I have nothing better to do.

We go to a movie, we sit on my bedroom floor, we "sit" on my bed ( or whatever you personally call it, I'm discreet) and then a few months later, we break up. No. We don't even break up. That would require actually saying something. With myself, we always just end up... not talking anymore. Occasionally, he'll drunk dial me. And I'll laugh, and tell him to go to bed/hell. Depending on how much I liked him.

I don't care about dating. I don't mind "being alone". I have other interests, other passions.

But you know the weirdest thing of all?

I don't care if I get married or not. Now off the bat that may not seem too odd, because plenty of my friends don't want a husband. They want to be CEO's of companies! Sex in the City wannabes! Or they want to be in the military, and "kick some Saudi Arabian- Iraqi anyonewhoisntwhiteandhasdifferentvalues ass"

Not me. I don't care if I ever find a husband, but I want children. At least one, but most likely two. I would rather just walk myself down to a sperm donation place , and get me a turkey baster and some smart-man sperm. It would have to be someone intelligent, like a med student from Yale who donates sperm to pay for his ridiculously expensive tuition.

If someones falls into my life, so be it. I'll go with that. It's not like I'm asexual, and I'm not attracted to anyone. It's just not a priority. I want a baby(ies) and a good job. I want to be a mother and an educated woman. And I want a dog. A dog is a must.

Things are moving at the speed I want them to.

College applications, recommendations, and transcripts are all falling perfectly into place.

I am getting in all my visits with friends before I leave.

I email my host family regularly,and they claim " Già di conoscerti da tempo! "
"We feel as if we have known you for some time now!" . Basically

Isn't that tender?

I want to leave. I keep packing, slowly adding things to my suitcase.

Time is dragging.

It's impossible for me to have an altercation with my parents without at least one of them psychoanalyzing me.

" But again, truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty you need only look into a mirror. "

The anger is poisoning my mind, and forcing me to think about it far more than I should.. so in a pathetic attempt to release some of it, I decided I had to write.

I have a sister named Ellen, who hates the very core of me.

Until very recently, I was extremely hurt by this. I hadn't really done anything offensive towards her. I let it control me. I pondered and obsessed over what I had done wrong. I couldn't figure out why her hatred was so strong. I was her sister! I was so nice to her! And she saw me extremely infrequently, so I figured that she was just being immature.

But, as I've gotten a little older, and I've experienced even more of her constant attempts to fuck with my mind, I have developed a new and slightly alarming emotion concerning her. I despise her. I want to beat the shit out of her.

I have never hated anyone so thoroughly in my entire life.

I have had people annoy me, anger me, and even piss me off. But she enrages me. She manipulates everyone around her, and her jealously has made me her constant project.

I am very easily hurt, and she knows that.

And better yet, her father (also mine biologically..sadly enough) lets her do it! He acknowledges her behavior, and yet continues to do nothing! He tries to smooth things over... claiming that we are blood sisters and should love eachother. B it doesn't work! I let things go, I never retaliate, and all i get for it is a HUGE smack in the fucking face. I'm tired of tolerating her constant abuse because " I'm older, and I should". I have run out of excuses for her! I hate her. Shes is the SPITTING IMAGE of our fucking low life no good mother. Who I hate almost as much as I hate Ellen. Almost. Not quite.

She feels no love for me, and I certainly no longer feel any for her. Instead of love, I feel uncontrollable rage that is absolutely so exhausting to keep under wraps. If she fucks with me one more time, I don't think I will be able to control my self.

If she wants her family and her father all to herself, I am totally willing to arrange that.

It certainly is not worth this aggravation.

Howw youu doinnnn?

I am happy now and nothing is going to ruin it.

not Ellen.
not dave
not skipper
not my parents
not my cat.
not the fact that i havent made my bed in 3 days.

I am happy and content and clean and showered and I'm watching a movie with Erica and my dad and his girlfriend are coming to pick us up soon to go to dinner.

My host family loves me, and I think they are wonderful and funny and interesting.

I am leaving in 31 days.

I am excited and thrilled and bashhetlldgdgb!

sigh, life is good.

We just don't see it coming.

I officially no longer know what to do. I want to maintain a relationship with Dave and Cindy..but Ellen has made it impossible for me now.

I think I'm going to have to give up on them, and maybe just..end the relationship with the little bit of dignity I have left.

It's an agonizing decision; one that I don't especially want to make. I have that " knot -in-your-stomach" nervous feeling, my temples hurt, I constantly feel like crying. This is whole episode is so draining. I just want it to go away.


Maybe I can just..fade into the woodwork.Maybe I can just keep the contact very casual, and then leave for Italy and not talk to them for a year!


That may be the best solution.

I have to think about it.

I am agonizing.

My brain is melting.

It saddens me that things haven't worked out.

But hey, some things just aren't mean to be I guess.

I am officially over it. I don't need it. It doesn't matter to me anymore.

Thats what I've decided.

Right here, right now.

It needs to end, for my sanity.

Everybody falls down, without even a whimper.

It's very warm in my house. Even though I'm wearing just a tank top and shorts, the heat is almost stifling. Maybe its because I'm nervous. Because I know that the inevitable is approaching , and it's coming pretty fast. I'm not even sure if its the right thing to do. Will I just end up hurting myself more? I have all the answers I'm ever going to get... maybe prolonging this is just bad for everyone. But most importantly, maybe its bad for me. For once, I am going
to think only about myself. I always put the needs of others before my own. Not tonight. Tonight I am going to think about how this has complicated my life. How being " in contact" has hurt me more than it has ever helped me. It brought about emotions I didn't even know I had. It made me feel lost, confused, hurt, and sorry.

Sorry I ever got into this mess. I'm sorry that Ellen thinks I want to steal whats hers. I'm sorry that she hates me so much. I'm sorry that I've essentially failed at making the reunion work. This reunion has failed.

God, I'm so fucking sorry.

I am seriously fed up. To my limit. I know what I need to do, but it just hurts so goddamn much.


I'll make a few rough drafts tonight, and think on it some more.

Shaken, not stirred.

My brilliant birthmother found adoptive parents for her baby today.

Which I suppose is a nice thing. Something nice wrapped up in millions of layers of sad and pathetic and worrisome and disgusting and irresponsible.

She asked if Susie( my older birthsister) would come with her to meet these people face to face.

Susie declined, apparently saying "that shit is embarrassing"

If she had asked me ( don't worry-- she wouldn't dare) that would not have been my response. I still have some sympathy left for her. Miraculously.


This new circumstance is effecting everyone differently. Aussie, as always, coins Cee "an idiot" and is sensitive to mine and Nicole and Susies feelings. She only care how it effects us. Goliath thinks its pathetic. Susie is disgusted. Nicole is furious (typical Nicole, always so rash.) I, on the other hand, am none of those emotions. I'm sad. Incomprehensibly and gut-wrenchingly sad. It doesn't really make any sense either. Logically, it doesn't effect me in the slightest.

But on a less logical basis, I feel like throwing my hands up in desperation.. and then sobbing.

My family smothers me with love. I am my grandparents and parents favorite child/grandchild. I have everything I could possibly ask for. My parents have done nothing but give me affection since the day I began to live with them. But it doesn't matter how much love I am showered with.

I will always feel this deep, profound sense of loss and rejection and longing.

Nothing ever changes. Not since I've been a little girl.

When I was young, if my biological family was mentioned, I would stomp my feet and cry and close my eyes and shut my ears. You couldn't even mention their names to me. I would lose it. My parents various attempts at therapy were never successful. I had one woman..when I was around 8. I still remember her. She mentioned adoption to me, and I cried, ran out of her office ,and climbed a small pine tree outside of the building.


Thankfully, I've gotten past that slightly embarrassing stage.

I'll never get any closure. No one will ever give me what I want. And now, my birthmother is doing the same type of thing to someone else. She's done it before..and now shes doing it once more. Yet again. It shakes me to my core. My bones and joints are heavy with despondency.


She will never learn, thus all suffering was wasted.

the burden of perspective

I got oodles of information about my host family in the mail yesterday. They look like pleasant people. My mother squealed when she saw them, and said..and I quote:

" WELL! They look positively pleasant don't they Amanda? Very upper-middle class. Molto piacevole che le guardando persone! Guardano cosi amichevole, no? Sono cosi eccitato per lei! Sono cosi eccitato!!!"


Of course the first thing out of her mouth was what their financial status appeared to be. My parents are literally the most stuck up individuals I have ever met in my life.They're nice enough.. but dear lord. Must they be so arrogant? And they're super liberal too. Which makes it even more unlikely that they'd be self-loving sons of bitches.

I leave for Zürich and Italy in 39 days. I get my visa on Wednesday (knock on wood)and Erica comes over from NY Thursday to stay for a longggg weekend. I'm hoping to get down to Popmart sometime soon to drool over Megan Mcglynn's artwork. I also sort of want to get Erica and I to Philly Friday.

Tomorrow our house is having an open house ( in a pathetic attempt to lure a buyer). I am banished to the backyard, since people apparently don't like meeting the people who live in the house while they are looking to buy.


Such are my plans for the coming days.

I want to read a good book.

I want to study Italian more.

I want to lose 20-ish lbs by September.

I want to grow my hair out, or cut it all off before I leave.

I want my mom to turn off her obnoxious jazz music in the kitchen.



It's not going to stop. Just give up.

Conditional Surrender.

I remember one time a good friend of mine told me that she read while taking a shower. I laughed, and asked her why. Assuming that perhaps I had misheard her.

" Why Becky Traldi, why do you read in the shower?"

She answered me. Apparently, for her, showering is a time when her mind may freely wander. She didn't like where her mind went, and therefore read to keep herself from "over thinking" things that may complicate her life. Now I know for a fact that Miss. Traldi is indeed extremely intelligent. Therefore, one day, I brought my copy of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas into my daily(or twice daily, if I'm feeling especially dirty and wasteful) shower. Not only did I find nothing extraordinary about this experience , but.. my book got wet, the pages got wrinkly, and I became annoyed .

I do, however, give Becky credit for the theory. When you allow yourself to reflect in solitude, one of two things is bound to happen. You will;

A) Reflect on how wonderful your life is! You'll come to appreciate your family (and forgive their faults and misgivings) and you'll come to love your friends even more. You'll recognize that the past is the past, and isn't the future just dandy! You'll forgive Fido for pissing on your carpet because "Hey! its green..and looks like grass...anyone could make that mistake!"

or

B) You will come to look at yourself and your life on a less shallow note. You will contemplate the reasons for your peculiarities. You delve into the idiosyncrasies of your life in a vain attempt to figure yourself out, and figure out others around you, in order to prevent being disappointed, or hurt. And boy-oh- boy do you have a bad dog!


Because I am nowhere near perfect, and because my dog has not piddled the floor in many years, I opt for plan B. Not because I like it necessarily , but because I often worry and think myself into oblivion. It's because I'm used to it. It's because my parents are shrinks and have taught me that self examination is the first step to making things better.

And you know what really gets me going?

You know what problem I have in my life?


The fact that no body can agree on who they are in my life. Everyone wants the same thing. But I can't seem to give it to anyone.

Now, that may SEEM like an inconsequential trouble. But let my assure you, it weighs heavily on my mind more than one might imagine.


Dave argues nature over nurture. Blood over water. Giving life over living life.
" I feel the same way about you as I do Ellen" he says. " I wonder if you'll ever be capable of having such feelings for me"

Cindy , when referencing Kathleen , refers to her as "your mom" therefore confusing me into another demention every time she mentions " your mom's drug habit"

Kathleen calls me baby.

Ellen calls me sister (when she isn't wishing she could call me dead)

My life is a constant game of tug and war. One side is pulling furiously at my feet, as they want what they have always had from me.

The other is pulling just as hard on the other side, as they fight for something they haven't deserved, but think they are owed.


Loyalties get mixed up. My brain becomes confused. Everyone pulls on my very prominent heartstrings. I can't bear to disappoint anyone!

Only I end up disappointing myself. And .. inadvertently..everyone.


Showering can be dangerous.

Ohhhhh baby do you know what thats worth? Ohh heaven is place on earth.

Did you know that song is all about Valium?

It's true.



SKIPPER! How I love that dog. It's a little sick, isn't it?



Olympus OM2n, lens: Zuiko, film: regular color negative

All of us are done for.

Well, it's finally happening. My parents are officially and legally divorced. Finally , right?

Now, they will go their separate ways:
My dad is moving to Manhattan, with his unusually young girlfriend and her rabbit named Bill.
My mom will be living in some old house in Bethlehem, one that is far too spacious her lonely self.
I'll be living in Gela, far far away from anything and anyone I have any connection to.
I'll live my life through words and letters composed to those overseas in America.

Most posts have become boring accounts of the days happenings. Whyohwhyohwhyohwhy can't I string together any coherent, meaningful sentences? Everything I write and say and think is stale and tarnished and old and..bland.

My dog is making cute grunting sounds behind me, on the newly polished wooden floors.He is dissatisfied with his surroundings. As am I.

I want something more, you know? I want to be something, and do something different and thrilling. I don't want to be famous, or rich. Goodness no. I just want to be important to somebody. I want to be wanted and appreciated.

I want someone to need me.

Not in a sexual way. Not at all!

I think my motherly instincts are forever in over-drive. I love to dote upon my little dog, and my little cat, and every small being who enters my life.

I ignore it. I pretend it doesn't exist.

Oh, all that I know,
There's nothing here to run from,
Everybody here's got somebody to lean on.

leaving!

I leave for Italy and 45 days.

I'm excited, but a little fearful.

Change always makes me a little nervous, but what am I leaving behind?

A few good people?

Ha.

It hardly seems worth it to stay.


Why do people I dislike trust me with their secrets?


È buffo, perché non fido di facilmente

Loving dogs , Evil Sisters, & City Escapades.

"Alot of things have happend this summer.ive lost two of my bestfriends because i took them for granted.im not as close to my family as i would like to be.my own blood sister hates me.my mom is addicted to everything but me.my dad and me argue everyday,and he doesnt understand.i cry for help but no one ever comes to my rescue. all my mistake burn inside me everyday of my life.i wish i could start over with everything. i wish i was smarter then i was back then.i am so weak and im supposed to be strong.im broken. my familys broken,and familys arent supposed to be like this. i need someone to hold my hand and pick me up when i fall.i cant sleep at night.someone needs to build a damn time machine.i took it all for granted everting i ever had"

Such are the words of my evil little sister on her myspace. I refer to her as "Evil Ellen". Mostly because that's exactly what she is. So yes, it's true. I do hate her. But not because she is my sister, and sisters are supposed to argue. It's because I truly believe that she doesn't give one shit about me. Her public post of agony pleases me only a small amount. The grammatic incorrectness makes me shudder, but I couldn't have expected any more from her.

In fact, that's what I've learned about this little beast of a child. Don't expect anything , which prevents me from becoming upset when I don't receive anything. Which is always what happens. She's jealous of me, and for what? That her father ( my biological one) likes me too? And why shouldn't he? I don't want what she has with him. I have my own father . I don't need hers. And it's true, her mom is addicted to everything but us. Not just her, as she selfishly believes. But maybe if she just cut connections with her, count her loses, and lick her wounds a little bit, she'd be less emotionally wrecked every time our mother disappoints her. As she always does.

I have very little sympathy, because most of the craziness in her life is because of her inability to have any sort of long-term thinking. Any sort of thinking at all, come to think of it. She dug her own grave on this one, and I won't help her out until I'm good and ready.

They're coming to my party, by the way. Which is...good.


Regardless of the insanity that they often bring to my life, I am so happy. Deliriously happy, in fact.


My room is clean. My dog is loving. My parents aren't fed up with me ! Italy is fast approaching. I get to do so much shopping before I leave! I just showered, and I am clean clean clean. I have a beautiful new silk night robe. I am having a party which includes many many good people. Over 52 family members (as of last night's tally..courtesy of my grandma) and many friends. I'm going into the city many times before I leave. Everything is harmonious and perfect in every way, even though they shouldn't be.


Somebody pinch me!

" when you love him so that he's been loved before.."

My mother, in all her infinite wisdom, has decided it is a good idea that she become pregnant, yet again.

I'm not supposed to know this. But, as always, someone tells me everything.

Mandy, her oldest, is 24? I'm 17..Ellen's 14. William and Sharon have got to be 9 and 10 by now. Christian is going to turn 16 soon.

How do I feel about this?

That poor kid. That poor little baby. Destined to be like us.

There will be yet another child on this earth who can't comprehend why his mother didn't want him.
Why she chose booze and crack over her children.
Yet another one who will know her only for a few days.

My sister, Ellen, is not handling this very well.

" GOD I FUCKING HATE HER!" She screams " I WISH SHE WOULD DROP DEAD. I WISH SHE WOULD DIE!"

We told her never to wish death on someone, because if that person DOES die(by some extraordinary twist of irony) , you'll feel like shit. Shes inconsolable. She feels abandoned, neglected, and fiercely angry that another one of us will come into existence. Just a notch on our mothers maternity belt. Just someone else she can love, and then leave.


She's an idiot. I know this about her, and yet I can't help getting emotionally involved with all of this. I just don't understand how my mother can bear it. How can she do this, and still go on with her everyday life? I surely couldn't. God. I can't even imagine how much that would hurt me.

This whole situation saddens me more than I'll ever be able to express to anyone.

I want to meet this kid, just as I want to meet all of the other ones born after me who I never got a chance to see. I want to tell him that it's okay. Someone else is here for you. Someone else knows what its like. Don't worry, we aren't going to leave you too.


I'll never have the chance to say any of that, though.

He ( or I suppose she!) will be better off without her. Just as well all are.

Just as I know I am.

Sometimes "better off" is so sad, isn't it?

Goodnight my angel, now it's time to dream, and dream how wonderful your life will be.

Why am I writing this?

It's 8:14 AM.

I shouldn't be awake, considering I woke up at 5:00 AM yesterday, and went to bed late last night.

I hate being in bed.

Everything seems worse when your alone in a dark room, with all the time in the world to divulge in a little self-pity.

I hate being able to just...lay there and think.

Usually it's nice to just be able to relax. But now every time I have a quiet moment to myself, the guilt and worry and devastation start nibbling at my brain stem. I start to cry. I start to worry. So many things are flooding through my mind. I want to go abroad next year! I want my parents to not hate the very ground I walk on! I don't especially want to go back to LVPA next year! I don't want to have to confront Dave and Ellen about why they wasted $10,000 on a fuck up like me.

I am so nervous and frenzied.

My blood pressure is through the roof.

There's a knot in my stomach that won't come undone.

I don't want to eat,sleep, or do anything.

I just want to know if I'm going to have the make the most heart wrenching decision of my life.

Skipper and Mozart just came over to me. Skipper made a cute little "pet me!" noise. I love how animals have that...sense when someone is upset.


please, please come. please.

I'm so worried, and anxious. I really feel like I'm about to cry.

Nothing yet.

The cheese has slipped off the cracker.

On September 5th, 2007. I had better be on a fucking plane to Zürich (and then to Rome)

I want to go to Italy.

If anything messes that up, I will completely lose my mind.

lose.my.mind.

Sometimes I am surprised with the vast amount of serious negative feelings I can contain within myself. I can get angry, sure. Who can't . But rarely do I feel these feelings of revenge and vindication and pure evil.


The space between my eyes hurt, and my stomach hurts, and my left foot hurts, and my body is so tired.

But mentally, I'm so wide awake.

This... feeling. It's like some toxic substance, sneaking its way into my brain, and eating away at all of my calm and introspect . I was so angry and exasperated and tired and fed up tonight, I lay in bed just fuming. I tried taking deeeepp breaths.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

Feel the anger and worry and sickness escape through your nostrils.

In, and out.

Bullll fuckinnggg shit. It didn't work, and I got sort of lightheaded. I'm not sure if that's just my everyday feelings of woozy-ness kicking in, or I lost some serious oxygen trying to calm down a bit.

I couldn't sleep.

It is exactly 12:00 AM, and I am not even the slightest bit tired. I feel so sick, and I hate myself for it.


God I fucking hate the things I do.

Sick with worry because I'm sick

As September fast approaches, I am already getting homesick.

Why am I sick all the time?

I can only imagine.


I hate the descent.

He takes a dying man in his arms
and tells him;
"How deeply flows the river
that takes the old man and his friends this evening.
It is a river of dusk, and lamentation.
"Flow" Walt says "Dear river, I will carry this young man to your banks.
I'll put him myself in one of your strong, flat boats.
And we'll sail together all the way through evening"


I want to change my life, but I don't know how to do it .

I'm not even sure what the real problem is... though I'm fairly confident there is one.

Nothings really going wrong. So it surprises me that I'm feeling this way.

I'll be spending the fourth of July at my grandparents house in NYC with all of my cousins and uncles and aunts and what not. I always enjoy the time we have together. They are a large group of insane individuals. I remember one time, we had Leah Augstroze come over to my grandparents house(we had a trip to Manhattan planned) and she met all of them. She was quiet ( though she often is) and they wondered why. Did she not like them? Did they do something? I told them she was shy sometimes. They laughed, and one of my aunts said to me:

"We're not really a good family for kids who are shy , are we?"

Nope, we aren't. We're New-Yawkahs. Dear god, we really are aren't we? My mothers Brooklyn accent would have Fran Drescher running for the hills.


I'm tired of having these complications in my life.
It's not that I'm confused about where I belong. That much is obvious. I never feel so wanted and accepted and loved as I do when I am with my family. Especially my extended family.


Why then, do I feel as if something is missing? Why do I feel so goddamn inferior to everyone else? Why is my brain addled with confusion and unrest?

I find myself becoming severely jealous of those who are in more... traditional familial settings.

Was that wordy enough for you?

Yeah that's right. I'm jealous of people whose lives are less emotionally complicated in this aspect. People who have ONE family. Instead of the two I seem to be plagued with.

Is it wrong to feel this way? Is it immature?

Am I making as mistake by writing this for all to see?

I become so envious when I see people with their mothers. Not so much fathers, for some reason. I suppose it's because I'm a female, and it seems so important to me to have my mother around sometimes. She isn't around. Nor logically would I want her to be. Logically, I know that she is incapable of giving me what I want. She is not emotionally stable enough to provide me with the closure and explanations that I need. I know all the answers, I just need to hear it from her. I know she'd try, and I know she'd want to do the right thing for me.


The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

I am very foolish

I will not overreact and jump to conclusions.

Why do I find myself consistently embarking on a path so blatantly treacherous?

I don't know.

Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then maybe you'd be less of a psycho bitch.

I've never had anyone hate me before.

But let me tell you, my sister does.

It tears me apart.

The majority of siblings in our position will never see eachother again.

I am here. Ready, and accepting.

But instead of being happy about our could-be-relationship, and cherishing the little bit of time we have together.

She loathes me.

She sees me as "immediate competition" for her father's affection.The father who, genetically, we both share.

She sees me as a "cosmopolitan, un-worldly, blond, bitch"

She knows her dad loves me as well, and it fucking kills her.

I SHOULD just shake it off, and say "Well, she's young. Only a freshman in high school. I'm a senior. That's a big maturity difference. And she's a self proclaimed princess. I can't expect anything from her. I know she isn't ready for this"

But why the fuck would I do that?

I can't accept the situation "animalistically" as I should. I can't just buy into the fact that shes jealous, and its natural. It should be tolerated.

Fuck no it shouldn't be tolerated!

Someone needs to tell her that I am not going away. I'm not going to leave her family because she doesn't like me there.


Yeah. And she wants to scour through adoption records to find our other siblings. That's a fucking joke. She can't even handle a relationship with me, and she wants MORE of me?


She thinks she's special and superior, because she stayed with our parents and I didn't.

Like I had any choice in the matter.

Like it was my fault.

Like I was inferior.


Our last visit, ended badly. I can't deal with her. I hate her. I can't bring my self to WANT to go to Texas for a week, and see her in July. I can't fathom having to sleep near her, or look at her, or hang out with her, or bond with her.

The time for loving and bonding is long gone.

It looks like she got what she wanted.

I haven't been able to sleep. And it took me 4 tries to spell the word " haven't"

Where does this leave me now?

I haven't worked this hard only to have everything ruined at the last second.

I tell myself to be calm, and reasonable. Nothing is sure. Nothing is final. In fact, it's a long shot anyway. Why are you getting so worked up Amanda, why are you getting so worked up?

I don't want to go back to LVPA. I've settled into the idea of getting on with my life. I am ready for the next level. But apparently, the next level isn't ready for me. Because here I am.


I can't imagine being back there. I don't want to be stuck for nearly 8 hours a day with people I don't give a shit about.

School has changed. Everyone has graduated.

It has nothing to offer me( save a few cherished individuals)

I don't want to go back there. I want to get on a flight to Zürich on September 5th,2007, and fly my ass to Switzerland with all the other people. I want to land in Rome a few days later, and never look back! I want to DO something with myself! Make something of myself! Prove I am better than my beginnings!

Prove that, for once, someone from my bloodline is going to go the RIGHT way. Do the RIGHT thing. Be someone.

I want so desperately for everything to just continue how it was going.

I've been so worried that A.F.S would screw up my application. Or my parents would somehow go broke and I wouldn't have the money to go. Or my visa wouldn't get processed in time.


Never did I think that I would be the one to sacrifice everything.

And for what?

Nothing.

pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease. gahhh please! no no no no no no no.


breathe.




i hate waiting.

My mother needed me today

Ha! That makes it seem like she needed me emotionally or something profound like that.

No, she needed me to help her look for some conference papers.

She claimed to need these papers for some seminar she was teaching on Wednesday. If she didn't find them, she said, she didn't know what she was going to teach the students.

I helped her.

We found so much shit. So many photos of me. So many naked photos of me. It's remarkable how much as a child I walked around with my goods hanging out. Not that, at four and a half, you really have much.

She took on the left side of the pile, while I took on the right. We dug through old papers, old invoices, old receipts, and finally, old photos. Really old photos. Some of them dating to the 20's, 30's and 40's. At this point, both of us had forgotten about the crucial conference papers, and were engrossed in the array of memorabilia that surrounded us. My mother was mumbling to herself, chuckling, and stroking pictures. She had entered nostalgia-land. I, on the other hand, was fascinated by all the things I was finding. My mom had photos of her and all of her old lovers in Europe from back when Italy's currency was still the lira. She had photos of her dogs . Her sisters ( who I've only met once), and all of her old roommates from the YMCA in Rome.

Then, I came across something amazing.

There was an envelope marked "FILM".

I opened it.

And in it, I found this.


I asked her what it was.

"Oh", she said, very nonchalantly."That was me in this Egyptian Newspaper. Paolo, I think you met him, had this friend named Durra from Egypt. They were making some short film together protesting Anwar Sadat's election, and they needed a woman to act in it without being paid. School was out, and I was working at some shit seamstress down in Eur. I agreed to do it, and this is a little article about it in the arts section of some Cairo newspaper"

I thought it was so amazing. She laughed at me a little for being so astounded.

My mother is so annoying. She is absolutely incessant about the most insignificant things. She bothers me, and nags me , and pesters me for not putting the forks in the dishwasher the correct way.

But, in her own way, she is amazing. She's lived so many places( Rome, Cadiz, Munich, Madrid, Barcelona, Eur, Hara' Fa La Fontera, Jesi ) She's known so many people. She knows everything about history, art, music, and literature. She despises gadgets such as computers and TV, but instead would rather paint or read or study. I strive to be like her.

I very seldom speak about her in any depth. When I write about my mother here, on this little blog that so few people know about, I write about my biological one. The one who has, for all intensive purposes, disappointed me.

Sometimes, I believe I get so wrapped up in the negative, that I forget about what I have gained.

This newspaper clipping, and all the other photos of her, introduced me to someone I had never met before. Someone who wasn't just " Amanda's mother" , and " Neils Ex-wife" and "owner of the happy dog, skipper". She is someone mysterious, and someone...cool.

My mother? Cool? I think the humidity is making me go crazy.

I got flight information today.
Or yesterday, rather.

I have about 1,257,127 layovers on the way to Rome.
Okay, so it's actually only two layovers.
One in Zurich, and the other in Munich. Switzerland and Germany. I'm excited, even though my mom told me I would only be in the airports, and that all airports are the same. I got my baggage tickets, my parents contact numbers verified, and tons of "travel checklists". It's so real to me. The excitement is taking over my brain!

I CANNOT WAIT TO GETT OUTT!!!

aufhnanasufeutyewuncxvn!!!

Emotions like this frighten me

I have never in my life wanted to hurt someone as much as I want to hurt you.

Emotionally, or physically. It doesn't even matter at this point. I'd settle for either.

You have no fucking right. How dare you attempt to do this to me. You stupid little cunt.

I haven't spoken to you in nearly a month,and you have the audacity to attempt to sabotage something I've been working to maintain since I was 11 years old?

I called Dave last night, sobbing and angry. Angry because you can't leave shit alone. I don't care if your hurt . You deserve every little ounce of hurt you feel. I'm not sorry for what " I did". I'm not sorry you have no confidence, and I'm not the least bit remorseful that you're never going to achieve your goals because you're a dumb bag of shit.

I felt slightly better when I talked to MY family. When they told me that blood was thicker than water. Thicker than anything. And that if I hate someone, they hate that someone too. I feel as if I've joined the mafia. And for your sake, you had better hope I never do. So much for " I really wanna see you guys again"? Isn't it? Dave jumped to my defense , saying " You are my biological daughter. Thats everything to me. Ellen knows not to go against the family, thats why she never told me about what was going on. Rest assured she and I will be having a serious talk when she comes home"

I told him to leave it alone. Don't feed the flames.

I have worked to maintain a certain level of sanity ever since I got back into contact with them. Everyday it's a balancing act. It made my life more confusing. It made emotions that you'll never experience take over my brain, seep out of my ears, and pollute my everyday life.

And then, in a moment of anger, jealousy, and bitterness , you decide you're going to "hit me where it hurts"?

You don't care how our relationship has failed? That's a dirty filthy lie. If you didn't care, you wouldn't have done these things that you've done.

How dare you claim to "know the truth"

You know nothing. You ARE nothing.

Nothing nothing nothing. You mean nothing to me.

I am writing this to save myself from literally punching the shit out of every somewhat valuable object in my room.

My hands were trembling and my face was hot.

You will never have such power over me again.

And if I see you doing this again.

I will create a problem.

Oh I will fucking get you, you piece of lowly , dumb, shit.

Too happy to write well.

This morning, I indulged in a post-menopausal guilty pleasure of mine, The Montel Williams Show, and was disgusted by Sylvia Brown( a guest on his show). She is a self- appointed psychic , whom I find completely ridiculous. She claims to have seen fairies while on a trip to Ireland? What bullshit. I pity those poor grieving people in the audience who are continually misled by her blatant exploitation of human emotion. Most of the audience members are Christians, and it sort of baffles me that they believe in spirits and ghosts and premonitions, all of which are obvious marks against Christianity. Oh hypocrites, whatever shall we do with you?

On a lighter, and less accusatory note, Italy is fast approaching. I'm excited excited excited. So excited. I'm hoping my school acceptance and family information to come soon-ish, so my visa can be taken care of .

So many of my mothers old lovers want to meet up with me when I first arrive in Rome.

Paolo is this artsy film maker who has lived with the same woman for almost 20 years now, except they aren't married. He lives in Eur, I believe? They have beautiful gardens, or so I'm told.

Sergio is a 65 year old Italian diplomat who is marrying a 25 year old Russian Doctor. How awkward. He's pushing the Philadelphia consulate to be a little quicker with my visa , once it's processed. My mom thinks his fiance must be pretty, or he wouldn't bother. How sad.



This is perhaps the most boring post I've ever written. I love when this happens. When life is so...worry free that you can't write about anything but happy ( and slightly boring ) things. Life is going so well. Isn't that annoying? I have my college shit in order. My summers going to be fab-yew-luss! I'm trying to plan something with Erica.. perhaps an all girls trip to Vermont? Or Myrtle beach? Anywhere where we can just hang out, and do basically nothing except lounge around on the beach( or the cornfields.. as it may) and get tan.



Come on September, come a little faster.

We're All Damaged Somehow

The evening I finally let go , it rained.
A gentle rain that signified the end of something mucky and sticky and...overwhelming, and the beginning of something fresh, new, and opaque.

As I begin preparing for an essentially new outlook , I undoubtedly have to do some reflection of things prior. You can't know where your going until you know where you've come from, so they say.

Hah! Dear Lord. Where have I come from?

Not from anything bad. Surely no. I'm not one to blame my current mishaps on a bad childhood, or a dysfunctional home. I find those people annoying actually. Oh no, I prefer to think of it as something tarnished (trite as that may sound.) It started off rather black, and old. It had lost its shimmer(if it had any to begin with). Thankfully though, a bit of polish and elbow grease is all that was needed to fix it up again. Of course, there are always those hard to reach places. Those that, no matter how hard you polish, clean, and "fix" them, will always remain slightly clouded and grim. But that's what gives it character! No one is always shiny.If you claim to be, your telling a dirty lie. Everyones' got their "cross to bear".

Mine has become troublesome lately, as I attempt to pick up the pieces of my life, and continue on with new and intoxicating things.

How can you pick up something new when your hands are full?


Yes, it rained.
A gentle, silent rain. One that made my hands wet and slippery. I lost my grip on you.

Perhaps this is the way it's supposed to be.

Things have dissipated into nothing.

School has ended. My years at LVPA have finally come to a halt.Am I relieved, or sad? Or both? I can't decide how I feel.

I'm leaving nothing behind. That can be either liberating, or funereal.

I know that when I miss LVPA and all my friends, I'll miss how things used to be. I'll miss those days before Briana left, before Leah decided she didn't care about my existence, before I nearly sacrificed everything I've worked so hard to maintain. More than once.


I think people have an uncanny and slightly convenient habit of remembering only what they want to remember.Half of me wants to stay back, and try and fix all that I've depleted.

The smarter half of me knows that theres nothing I can do.

School is winding to an end .
With change, as always , comes an array of mixed emotions.
On one hand, I am excited to start something new.
Something exciting. Something, interesting, exhilarating, and life-changing.

On the other hand, however, I'm terrified.


Terrified that what I'm leaving behind is too great. Am I ready to leave literally everything in my life behind ? Am I truly able to go ahead and separate myself from all that I've grown so comfortably accustomed to? I'm not so sure anymore. At first, I was so ready to go. Now, as other things are changing, I'm reminded of how repulsed and uncomfortable I am with change itself. Whether good or bad, I think people are discontented with change. It makes us nervous. It unsettles us.


In the end, though, I've decided the best thing for me is to get the fuck out of her. Cleanse myself of all the bullshit. See what really matters to me. Who really matters.


who really matters.

Everything is happy and perfect.
I want to sing and dance and party.
Even my dog wants to sing and dance and party.
Which gives me an idea.

I'm so...angry.

I have never felt so awful.
Frustration is taking over.
My mind is a jumbled mass of thoughts that I don't know how to express.

I just want things to change.

I want so desperately for this to all go away. I wish they didn't exist. I wish I was born into what I know now, without the insanity that is my genetic makeup.

I want to be near them. I want a relationship. I want to maintain it, because I think it's important. I try to find affection for everyone in my life, and acknowledge what each of them has brought into it. At the same time, however, I feel as if I'll never be able to get on with my life. I'll never be able to progress, without digressing twice as much.

One step forward, two steps back.

They inhibit me. They confuse me. They tug at my very prominent heartstrings.

I am nothing to them. Just one of the many "well handled" situations.


You feel abandoned? You stupid little shit.

I wish I could show you.

Can you be happy where you are?

Thought you had
all the answers
to rest your heart upon.
But something happens,
don't see it coming, now
you can't stop yourself.

For some time, I have wondered how in the world I got to this place. It's easy to fall deep into thought when it's so silent.

The air has that summer mugginess, and were in that sort of..pre-dusk twilight. That's my favorite time of the evening; when the light is most comfortable on the eyes.

I went outside briefly; I wish I was in any mood to stay out longer. I walked out to the garage to get a bottle of water, and I saw the garage door was open. I stepped out onto the driveway for a moment. I was surprised to feel cold air, because the thermometer said 79 degrees. Because I feel like death, I assume my body must also take on death-like qualities, and become numb and frigid.

Not true. I've maintained a steady low grade temperature.

I feel..despondent. But it's a peaceful sort of sadness. Not the violent, weighty, pulling, heavy kind. I've felt that. It feels like something is grabbing your ribs, and pulling as hard as it can, bringing you to your knees.

No, it's definitely not that. But rather, a quiet, almost serene sort of feeling. Almost like sleepiness. I feel as if I will wake up tomorrow, and find that everything is the same.

Unfortunately, that rarely happens. I hate doing that ;waking up from a blissful sleep, only to slowly have everything seep back into your brain like poison.

We bought a new rug for the living room. It feels foreign under my feet.

In the silence,
all your secrets, will
raise their worried heads.
Well, you can pin yourself back together,
to who you thought you were.
Now you're out there living
In the deep.

we do not belong together

I am perpetually exhausted.

No matter how many naps I take, how much sleep I get, or how many red bulls I drink... I can hardly keep my eyes open. It's the constant chatter that I find most tiring. I'm exhausted of everyone telling me the same things. The same generic, stale phrases. Such as ( and I quote..)

" Everything is better in the end!"
" But, look at all you have now! That's what matters"
"College is important"
"Going abroad is important. You'll gain the edge"
" I'm sorry"
"I hate to be the devils advocate, but.."

My parents are driving me crazy. They want me to study and fix myself. Figuratively and literally.
My friends are disappointed in me. But let's face it, I'm a little disheartening.
My cat keeps knocking over things. They make an expensive noise as they break.

My dog is digging at my foot with his, desperately trying to get my attention. He wants me to fulfill his doggy needs.

I don't want to fulfill any one's needs anymore.

Gentle rain from a cloudless sky

I can recall and relive any given moment of that evening. I remember being nervous. Making mindless smalltalk with the person sitting next to me.

" Don't worry" he said " You'll be able to handle it"

Sure. Great.

I remember staring out the window, watching the sparse trees go by just a little bit too fast. He's a bit of a speeder, that one. You called his cell phone.
"Where are you?"you ask.
"Two minutes away ", we said. "We're turning into the apartment complex right now."

I remember how my heart raced as my confidence wavered. Maybe this was a bad idea. I bet I could stay here in the truck, and tell everyone it's all a big mistake.

"I'm not ready! I'm not ready! I can't do it! Don't make me! "

My brain is screaming.But outwardly, I'm silent. I could just turn and run, everyone would understand.

Instead, I get out of the car.

I can't believe I'm actually doing this. How many years has it been? And now, to resurface it all. It seems insane. And yet, I keep walking. I figure I have another 2 or 3 minutes until we locate which apartment is yours. 2-3 more minutes to prepare myself.

No such luck. I avert my gaze from the ground, and there you are, walking hurridly towards us. At least, I think it's you. You say something, and all of a sudden, recognition slides across my face. At this moment, I can't remember exactly what you said to me, as you rushed over for the longest hug I've ever experienced in my life. Emotion sometimes dulls all of the other senses, I think. But I suppose it doesn't matter anyway.

After the neverending hug, we are ushered into the front door. Mandy is there. So are Jayden, Nolan and RJ. Nanna Knisley as well.

Nana rushes in for the kill. Another hug. Thankfully not as long as the last one.

We awkwardly sit on the couch. Dave sits in between us. I relax, thankful for the buffer.

Nana speaks first.

" You know, I used to call you snow baby. Your skin and hair were so white. You got all the German in us. I bet you burn easily"

I do.

I nibble on generic brand mint cream oreos. We talk about apartment prices, childhood antics, and school. Anything to avoid whats actually important.

There's an elephant in the room. He's big, and angry. Just waiting to surface.

And suddenly, he does.

I hear whimpering from a few seats over.

Dave whispers to you. You nod, and tuck your hair behind your ear. Dave gets up, and you inch closer and closer to me. I stare at my feet. You falter, but only for a moment, as you start to stroke my hair.

I can't take it anymore.

Dave comes back from the kitchen, drink in hand, and notices his seat has been taken over. He sits on the far end of the couch.

You smile and me, or at least I bet you do. I still refuse to make eye contact.

" We're all here, sweetheart. A family."

I feel a lump in my throat, one that is roughly the size of the previously mentioned elephant. You tell me about your hair. It was longer once, but lately you just don't have the time to take care of such lengthy strands. You cut it a few months back, but you miss it, and plan to re-grow.

Half of me wants to run out the door,and never come back. The other half wants to dive into your arms, and never let go.


It's time to leave, Dave says. We have to meet some people for dinner. You rush into the bedroom, and bring out a little box. It's contents? A little stuffed pillow. Covered in blue satin, with butterflies. It smells like lavender. Or something. i think it's the kind you put in with your underpants, to make them smell nice.

I thank you, give brief hugs, and I start to leave. I turn back only once.

You look different than I remember. You look, older. Slightly pudgy. You're hair is still auburn, and you have enough freckles to mimic the constellations. You're wearing a black shirt, and dark blue jeans. Black isn't flattering to such a light skin tone. Someone should tell you. But, that someone isn't me.

You hug me one last time.
" My baby" you say. Barely an audible whisper. For a second, I embrace this. I buy into it. It's comforting, this bond we are supposed to have. I want to stay with you longer. Listen to you talk. Listen to your stories,your dreams, your life. I want to understand all of this shit. I want to hear it from you! Tell me ! Please, please give me some sort of peace!

As always, you don't deliver.

We ride to the restaraunt in silence. I am overwhelmed. Disenchanted with your reality. Heavy with despondency.

" How are you?" Dave asks

Fine.

I open the card that came with my gift.
" Happy belated birthday. Love, Mommy"

The letters seem to dance across the page. As if to gain my attention, if only for a moment.
I shoved it back into the envelope.

Insanity has taken over in my household.Apparently, my parents are " college nazis"


College nazi;

/Kah-ledge- nah-ts-ee/
–noun
1.
any of numerous, cheifly annoying, ancestor, precursor, or progenitor who feel the need to badger their offspring incessantly about the importance of getting into Ivy League schools. Often found wandering around the house looking for more work to be done. Feeds on "A's" on report cards, and teacher recommendations.


My parent's never leave me alone. No matter what I do, my parents pester me. My 3.78 GPA isn't enough. It needs to be higher. HIGHER. HIGHER.


Their constant " If you don't do amazingly on your SATS, you will go to community college, and fail." schticks are getting old.


I feel I shall lose my mind.

Delivering signs and dusting from their eyes

So, I've been thinking about you lately.
And, I wonder. Do I ever cross you're mind?

On my birthday, of course. I already knew that one. When is your birthday? I don't even know. All those little details have slowly seeped from my mind. Much as I've tried to hang on to them. I remember when I saw you a year or so ago. For the first time in so long. You sat on the couch near me, and I edged away.

"We're all here" you said "a family"

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

What have I lost from being without you?


It's too late for me to be awake.


I count the days the Great Frontier. Forgiving, faced the seventh year I stand in awe of gratefulness. I can and call forgetfulness

Ever Falling Down

Alot is going on . But what's so new about that? I've had to do a lot of re-evaluating and self examination lately, and truly? I don't like what I see.

What have I become?

A hypocrite.

I claim to be a Christian, and I claim to to know God, but what on earth am I talking about? Sure, I know what I'm supposed to do. Do I do it? No. I'm farther away from God than I have been in a long time, and it's my doing. I ignore my moral values. I ignore my Christian friends. I let temptation and sin seep into my life like poison, and I'm so...tired of it.

One day, I'm going to have to answer for all of this . I'll have to look Him in the face, and explain myself. When questioned, what will I do? Cry? Beg? Explain away my past errors? How do I explain setting foot on a path so blatantly treacherous? '

I don't even know myself anymore.

God help me for ever finding out.

Through the day , as if on an ocean waiting here , always failing to remember why we came.


Italy is actually happening. I almost can't believe it. Except, I had better get used to the idea fast because I have five months to basically become amazing in Italian, get my visa, apply for college, finish my graduation project, and do 60 hours community service for graduation.
Maybe I'll be too busy with preparations to really notice the fact that I am literally leaving everyone and everything I've ever known. I'll be thousands of miles away. That's sort of a frightening thought for me. What will I do without skipper. What about Erica, who I talk to everyday for hours? Who will I confide in? My parents? My friends? What will I do? How will it feel, I wonder, to walk through security at the airport, and leave behind everything? It'll feel exhilerating, terrifying, and sad. But it will also feel liberating, I can imagine. Finally, to get away from everything stupid here. Everything stupid I've ever done. In Europe, nobody will know who I am. Nobody will see those mistakes etched on my face.

here we are. stuck by this river. you and I, underneath the sky that's ever falling down

Breezes

It's beautiful out. it's nearly 9:30 at night , but the air is still warm and complacent. All of the windows in my house are open, and a warm breeze is circulation through the house, enveloping me. My house is dark. The dog is asleep, and the kitten is relaxing on the couch. My sheets and comforters are in the dryer ,and I look forward to sleeping in something clean and warm tonight. I have the TV on mute, and the office is only illuminated by the light of the computer screen. I hear ticking. I assume it's the clocks. I say clock's because we have many. Many exotic, original, handmade clocks that my mom finds in exotic, original shops in the ever -so-ethnic downtown Bethlehem. My favorite one is a big rectangle, with three rectangles cut out of the middle of it. I can barely see what time it is on this particular clock, as its all in roman numerals, and covered in frilly swirly designs. But it's my favorite just the same, as it reminds me of something beautiful out there. My house is full of strange things such as this. Things from ( or at least inspired by) far away places.

I've never been good at leaving. Or, letting go rather. I'm always the type of person who keeps friendships, keeps things going. I want to go, I want to stay. Change, as inevitable as it is, is difficult.

The night is still warm, and the breeze is still flowing in and out of the windows.

It's sort of late, and I'm sort of tired.

I've decided that I no longer know anybody.

What a relief it will be to, next year, step foot in another country, and actually NOT know anyone , as opposed to my current situation where it seems I am continually disippointed by the people who I am supposed to care about. Nobody is who they seem. What a despairing thought!I feel as though I am constantly exerting myself; forever trying to beee nice to everyonnnee. Not pissss offf anyonneee. And in return? I get shit smeared on my face. Every time. At this point, it's like, what IS the point? I defend people, and then get treated like shit. It's so frusterating. School is slowly becoming intolerable, as everyday I'm confronted by how shitty of a friend I really am.

Whatever.

http://www.jackson.k12.mo.us/vocal/Audio/HS/Chamber/14%20My%20Master%20From%20a%20Garden%20Rose/14%20My%20Master%20From%20a%20Garden%20Rose.htm

My Master in a garden lay, perfumed with spices rare; for tender hands had laid Him there , to rest amid the roses. On cross they laid Him bare, and pierced His hands with nails, that we might live again .

I remember it clearly. Even though the evening was rather sophmoric. Banal, even. I fell asleep late that evening, heedless of my promise to go to church the next morning. I woke up in a fine mood. Maybe even a good mood. At this point, I really couldn't tell you anymore. But there was none of that " I had a feeling something was wrong" stuff that you always hear about.

The day was very much like today. It was cold, and there might have been a little bit of snow on the ground. Maybe. There was a breeze. The air was algid, and frost swirled and spiraled around our feet. The sky was clear, and the clouds had that pinkish tint to them all day. Very light at the edges, then greyish salmon and blue within the center.

That was a year ago. How can that be? In my mind, it has not been that long. It seems like only yesterday. But in reality, time has truly passed. When I think of all the things that have happened since then, the numbers are great. The emotions are so fresh in my mind, but my memory has dulled.


My Master from a garden rose to go for us to heaven, and He will come and take us there. Take us there to be with Him . To be with him forever. Alleluia!