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