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!