Houston..we have contact.

I got the call at 10 this morning. I slept with both phones next to my bed. I had a restless sleep- the kind you have when you are eagerly waiting for something- the kind you have when you are sleeping only so the next day will come.


I am on cloud nine, even though I know this will not be an easy journey.

I have one wish:

I want her to look back on this day years from now- and be happy that she met me.


above your deep and dreamless sleep- another star lights up the sky.

Being an infant or a bird

I want this so badly that it almost hurts. I need this. I need this to mean something. Every second of my life has brought me to this moment. Every breathe has brought me to this instant.

I am one person's mistake, another's best decision. I am one man's pain, another's joy.

I am a sibling to many but a sister to none.

I am secret and I am a granddaughter.

I am a daughter but a friend, a am both spontaneous and meticulously planned.

I am everything and I am nothing at the same time.

I have always known what I am. I have always been told, always been reminded. I want everything to mean something. I don't like useless pain. I don't like wasted emotions. And I REALLY don't like poor decisions. The choices they've made, the choices I've made, could all make perfect sense. I long to find someone in this mess- just one person- who makes me feel as if it has all been worth it. These past 10 years- I need to know that they haven't been in vain. Sure I know a bunch of shit that I wouldn't have had I not made the decision to reunite- but mere facts do not make up for the gaping holes that I had so desperately try to plug up. It has been worth it, in a purely informational sense, but I admit that even after years of having contact with my biological family, that part of me feels empty. Part of me knows that nothing can ever be fixed. And that is the part of me that decided to search for Stephanie, my biological sister who was adopted a few years before I was. That was the part of me that searched through all of my old records, read the ridiculous story of my past. That was the part of me that went to the bank to get everything notarized, and the part of me that has waited by the phone for weeks.

Tomorrow could be a good day, or a very bad day. This is my final attempt. Tomorrow I will have some sort of answer. Something will have moved. Something will have changed. I am prepared for a rejection- I've had it so many times before. I am hoping to find something new -something beautiful- coursing through my veins. I am hoping beyond hope and praying to no end that I can look into the face of someone whose blood I share and see love in their eyes. I am tired of seeing anger, jealousy, shame, and guilt. I want to see a face, even if it is not like my own, and know that we have a connection. I want to feel it. If it is not there, I want to build it. I will do the work-I've always been willing to- if only someone was willing to work with me.

I did it with D and E, and D and G, and C and M and EVERYONE. I tried and I tried. I want someone to try for me. I want these past years to have led me here. I've traveled this road, and I want to find something at the end of it. I am not looking for a pot of gold- a few specks of bronze will do. Anything shiny enough to mirror my intentions- and the love I could have for these people, if only they would let me.

I never could see, but I'd do it all again.

How I will rise up from the waters where I've drowned.You will know me,you will see- your face will light up from the glory that it's found



I am doing that thing again,denying some parts and accepting others- the rationalization that often accompanies loss. You don't want anything to do with me? Good. I don't want you either. It's a little pathetic,really. Mostly because I can pinpoint exactly what I'm doing. There's no shame in the action, merely the inability to stop. My inability to stop.

If the current project doesn't work out, I'll resign myself to it. I'll fade into the background, the woodwork, or wherever it is that people in my situation fade off into. I've already begun the process, of course, but nothing has been finalized. I can't very well write off everyone, because some people have been nothing but steady, nothing but good. Those who are supposed to be the most deranged end up being the most pristine of all. Opportunity cannot make up for heart, so it would seem, but I think I knew that anyway.

I am casually hopeful- I wait for the phone to ring, for the mail to come, for the "you got mail" voice to signal on my computer. I assume that everyone is as eager as I am, but of course that's not the case. I've seen that first hand.

I'm tired of being told that I've lost. In one side's longing to be important, they refuse to be labeled insignificant. It's sad because it's utterly predictable. Sometimes I want to remind them that the majority of them are just bitter. Very few people or situations can make you so something that you don't want to do. Some people are just victims of circumstance, but that sure isn't everybody. I'm tired of being pressured to feel as if I'M unfeeling because I refuse to accept excuses. Anyone can make excuses- it's not difficult. But not everyone can accept responsibility. That's the hard part. I'm tired of this institution being a breeding ground for rationalization.

I have lost, yes. But I have gained as well. I've gained so much more.The gains can't make up for the losses. Unfortunately, nothing can. Nor would I want it to. I stand firmly where I am, sure of my decisions, and accepting every consequence as quietly as I can. I don't want to collapse- crumbling as I have been these past few months. This is my one last ditch effort at a connection- and finding someone who is a part of me who is lacking in crazy. If I fail, I'll pack up these boxes- tape up these cartons and haul them away. Andiamo avanti, as they say. I'll absolutely do so.

you sing into the night now... just sing on for me

Being notarized is perhaps the biggest pain in the ass ever. I did it, though, in the vain hope that it would be worth it. I want so badly for this to mean something. A door as been closed, and I’m hoping that this is the window that will open.

I hope that she’ll want to meet me-that she’ll be interested in my life and how our lives intertwine. I want to share everything that I’ve learned about our common past with her, I want to encourage her, show her, and help her understand. Perhaps most selfishly, I want to warn her. Things in our past can get pretty freaking ugly, and I want to save someone else the same pain that I’ve experienced.

On that note, I’ve already decided that I will not share any information with anyone else. It may sound selfish- but I’ve done all the work. I’ve made all the phone calls, notarized all the papers, and made all the effort. I am not feeling especially charitable towards anyone right now. I’m tired of letting people walk all over me- and this step has been a positive one in taking control of the situation. I’ve never fully felt a lot of this experience. I’ve tried burying it- it didn’t work. I tried placating myself with contact- that REALLY didn’t work. Unless of course, she asks me to, in which case I will only do so after having thoroughly thought it over. I don’t want to be associated with any of them, (except Mandi, who is absolutely not a problem at all.) I don’t want to be associated with craziness. I don’t want to be a member of that family. I want to be appreciate for exactly what and who I am, and respected for what I have to offer. I would love a friendship, and I am waiting now for a reply.

I am prepared for a rejection. Sometimes, when I think back on my initial contact, I wish I would have known the things I know now. I like to think that I would have run screaming, but I know I wouldn’t have. At least I could have been warned, been prepared. I wish I could have someone who I saw myself in, but who did not embody all of the things I am afraid to become.

How long does the postal system take, anyway?

The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping I dreamed I held you in my arms. When I awoke,dear,I was mistaken. Please don't take my sunshine away.


Sometimes it all comes crashing down upon me. The silliest things can set me off. I watched an episode of "Cold Case" earlier this evening, and it was so sad. Just absoklutely so sad. And all of a sudden, I realized what I had done. Just like I've realized it at random moments the past few months. I don't know how long it's been. Perhaps three months? Maybe even longer. I don't recall exactly. I'm afraid that by the time I get back to them, it's going to be too late.

I constantly try and tell myself that I did what was best for me, that they didn't really matter. I have to be sure that they are not important, because if they are, then I have lost more than I could ever have imagined. If biology matters, then I need them, and I have made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Another part of me is angry. Angry that I feel such dedication to them, or such a strong feeling that I should be dedicated to them. They were never dedicated to me, were they? Nope. I want to think so, but I just can't wrap my head around it. GAH

I am so sorry. I am standing my ground now because I feel I should, because I feel obligated to make it as if my decision was completely right. I can't back down, because that means I am indecisive. It isn't enough to just change my mind. It isn't enough. It can never be enough.

I miss them a little bit. Sometimes a lot. Choices, choices. I always preach about choices, and how we should consider the consequences. I guess that applies to me too. Which is why I feel so strongly that I can't go back on this. I want them to want me. I never gave much thought to the fact that I might want them.

let's go to the hills where the outlines are clear

I've noticed that my entries have a tendency to revolve around a common theme. Perhaps it’s because I don’t feel comfortable expressing myself so openly in other places. I have so many outlets- so many safe and understanding outlets, yet it’s sometimes easier to just…write. Sometimes I think people get sick of hearing me bounce around the same ideas in my head over and over. A lot of the things make perfect sense to everyone around me, but I fail to really understand them.

I’ve been feeling a lot of guilt. A whole lot. Perhaps disproportionately so, but either way I can’t seem to stop these feelings of pure culpability. Sometimes I feel vindicated, free and powerful for the steps I’ve taken in my life towards feeling better about my biological situation. Other days I feel like the most selfish bitch on the face of the earth. How could I have made it all about me? I must be a real witch to hurt other people to save myself, save my feelings. It’s not really that I feel unworthy, or that I feel that I am evil. It’s more that I doubt my true intentions. I know that I felt hurt, rejected. This is definitely true. But… what if I did it for the wrong reasons? What if, because I was experiencing feelings of rejection similar to those surrounding my past, I decided to reject them before they could reject me? What sort of fucking psycho would that make me? I know people who do things like this, and I really would prefer not to be one of them. What if, in my sensitivity, I pushed people away who loved me? I know that I’ve destroyed everything we spent 8 years creating. I know that all of it is ruined now, but I can’t seem to truly regret it. I feel guilty, sure, and I question my motives, but I wouldn’t go back and change it and that scares me. The presence of empathy with an absence of the desire to regress makes me uneasy. I suppose you can’t truly regret something unless you would go back and change it. I don’t regret it. I just feel sorry about it, because it’s a sorry situation. I’m sorry that I couldn’t fix things, and perhaps that’s where this guilt is coming from. I failed to repair what had been inexplicably ruined. I couldn’t make it better, and I couldn’t convince myself that it didn’t matter. I couldn’t handle it. Some people say I should have to handle such bullshit, and I know that’s probably true. But where do you draw the line? When should I deal with something just to save someone else’s feelings? When do my needs outweigh someone else’s?

There are the days of silence...

I think it's a little too late for me to go back. By telling D that I didn't want a relationship, I'm stuck in my decision. I wouldn't change it. No. I wouldn't crawl back to them like the piece of slime I feel I am. Nothing will have changed by then, and it would be ridiculous of me to go back and try and work things about because not only will it not work, I will have lost all credibility.

No, I have to stick to my guns, no matter how it hurts. Still...I can't help but think that I could have prevented this somehow. I could have done something, said something. What could I have missed? There's definitely some guilt here, as if I owed them something. I've been conditioned to think that I owe them indefinitely, for life or whatever. But I don't really believe that. My presence took out of their lives for a little while, and their chosen absence from my life took away from me(regardless of all the gains.) I think we are about even. Thanks for my life, and your welcome for those two years of peace you got before your next daughter was born. End of story, right?


I hope he never calls me. On some levels I want him to because I want to be wanted because I have never felt it from them. You can talk about self sacrificing love and selflessness until the cows come home but no one will be able to convince me fully that you can leave someone because you love them. I understand all the logistics behind it, and I can understand selflessness... but I just don't quite buy it. We do what we have to do when it serves us best. At the end of the day, we all look out first and foremost for ourselves. This rule of nature is supposed to be eradicated with parenthood but I don't believe that it is. Selfishness in this respect is easy to cover up, to hide, to excuse. Irresponsibility cloaked with good intentions is still irresponsibility. I don't place any blame, because it WAS for the best. Thank God I am who I am and my family is my family. I do not regret it, but the ends do not justify the means. Because my life worked out beautifully we can all rest on our laurels and preach about good decisions and best interests. My life is good because of the people who raised me, not because of the people who chose not too. Their loss is definitely felt, but blood is not everything and I have to remember that.

I know that I have to focus on school and my family and my friends and my life. I have so much going for me and I know that I should be thankful and I am... but I suppose on some level I still feel badly for how things ended. I guess only time will make that go away, but I sure wish it would speed up a little bit. I don't see any situation where I would ever need them again. I have all of the information I need, and I don't see a time in my life where I would be able to subject myself to a relationship. If E changes, that's one thing, but if she doesn't (I have a distinct feeling that she won't) when could I ever be mature/callous enough to not care about how she hates me? I just don't see that happening, and on some levels it makes me very sad.

I do know one thing though: we all make our decisions. D and C made theirs, D's parent make theirs, E made hers and I finally had the courage to make my own. We make our decisions and then we live with them.

There- absolved of all guilt. These next few months are going to take me farther and farther away from all this craziness. Time can't pass fast enough.

And if you sing this lullaby..

I am going crazy in this little room. The more I try to ignore it the more I fuck up.I am forever guilty and at fault.

The air is finally getting warm . It is 3AM, and I wish I could stay awake until 5:30 so I could go outside and listen to the birds as they wake up. When I was little and woke up at ungodly hours of the morning, I would go into the living room and look out my living room window and listen to the silence of the house. I could hear, outside in the trees beside the house, the birds chirping and singing to the dawn. The sky was mostly dark, but just as I would begin to drift off to sleep with my head on the back of the couch, the sky would turn pink. The trees, black against the tangerine and coral of the sky behind them, were still and the grass was slick with dew and everything smelled like rain.

I would run off the school bus into my fathers arms, and my mother would make salad and pesto for dinner. I'd collect little bugs and try and save the frogs we found outside my hot tub. I had an orange hippopotamus and my mom's green apron and my dad's large rings that he got when he graduated from college. I had opera while I took a bath and played with my lion figurines in the water. I listened to Billy Joel cassette tapes and watched the fish in the fish tank swim as I fell asleep.

Now I have 100 different places and things. I am school I am an apartment in New York I am Pennsylvania I am nowhere. I wear a lot of bracelets and rings and my hair is too short and my eyes never a distinguishable color. I am dirty fish tanks and stupid memoirs and different languages. I am never what I am. I am soy milk and white dogs and windowsills with the paint peeling off . I am arugula and rabbits with people names . I am not the very blood that runs through my veins but am powerless to change it.

I am blond and I am light and I am nobody's but everyone's at the same time. I am not wanted, I was but then I wasn't and then I was and then I was again. Now you can't have me and it's all your fault even though I don't believe that. I long to be my own and my children's, but I have not found them yet. I have questions and I am sailing on an emerald bay. I am never far away. I am not weak and I do not hide every two weeks and I am not afraid. I long to have a place to crawl back to.


I love you and you and you and you. You are great with the ducks, and you with the fish. I should love you both but I cannot do so freely and without regret, and I should be in love and I should be angry but I cannot find the strength to be one or the other.

I know that once I am seen I lose my appeal.

ahhh weariness.

There has never been a simpler way out. Spring break is fast approaching and I could never be more ready. I long to just blend into the familiar smells and noises and comfort of my home. Really, though, I just want to make a new home or go back to the old one, whenever it existed.


I'm embarrassed because I still can't shake it. I try to and I don't think about it but nothing helps. I tell myself that it doesn't matter and I guess on some level it doesn't. Then again at the same time it matters a whole lot and why can't I just fucking get over this bullshit.

I've sort of gotten used to the idea that I am going to need some sort of period, perhaps some sort of mourning period, to sort all of this shit out. I knew that I was going to need it but I've been so crazed with school that I haven't allowed myself to indulge.

Things have gotten easier just as I knew that they would but it doesn't seem to matter because nothing matters.

I'm tired and sleep deprived but I'm still almost happy. It's strange because I shouldn't be but I am.

I have no idea where I am going to school next year but that's okay . I tell myself that it's okay.


Nicolo Piovani makes me happy.

Light.

I have finally found the perfect solution. I think. In theory, it should work. I will put one in a situation where an ultimatum is necessary. And who doesnt love the ultimatem?Who doesn't love the opprotunity to truly spill it, tell it like it is? I know that, personally, I need this. Only the next few days will tell how we proceed. I am ready for whatever comes next. I think I am ready for whatever comes next.

Ecco, facciamo cosi'. Magari.

Amongst dogs and christmas shopping and tinsel and large trees and lights and suitcases and coral nail polish and chicken parmegano..lies my inability to make any decisions.

Send or don't send.

I have to think, but thinking get's me nowhere. I simply want to exist. In the midst of my empty, albeit productive day, is uncertainty and dread. All I am able to see is that it will never make me happy. I can't string together sentences.

The christmas tree is too big. The star is crunched against the ceiling, bended painfully,


Praise the odd, serendipitous world.

secondo mè "Back to life" hanno deciso di suonarlo in paradiso..

I haven't written in while, and I must admit that I found a strange pleasure in the fact that this blog is so fucking old, and never changes. The colors .. I mean. The layout. I've kept it the same for all of these years. It's refreshing that some things remain the same, even if they're only in cyberspace.

I checked to see if my sister was still a bitch the other day. I suspected she would be, and was not disappointed. She twisted the knife, so we say, and I'm not entirely certain that I'll be going back for more. A broken family, I am told. But where do I even fit in? Am I included? I've been taught so long that I have not been broken from one family, but joined into another. Dare I consider the other point of view? I despise her. If only because she represents everything ugly in myself. All of my negative feelings surrounding the issue are ...manifested in her little body. I am overcome with hatred . I am livid. I am on fire. And for what? Fuck them. If only I could say it, do it, act on it.

" GO TO HELL" I want to say " Thanks a lot guys, but you've done your part." . Could I be like tigger and say " ta-ta forever?" Leave them behind, and continue on. Not all of us have the option to opt out.

Even within less dramatic scopes, I find myself unable to let go. I have to stop writing letters ,calling, etc. Why do I bother? Why am I such a fucking pussy?


I want something profoundly different. But what? I want to go away, far away, and forget all of this shit. Form new memories so the old can wither and die on their own. No euthanasia necessary. I want fields and new languages and sunsets and old stone buildings, laced with moss and glazed with moisture. I want history and music and quiet. I want the city; smog filled air with people-filled streets. Lights, smells , and honking horns. Over boiled coffee and cigarettes. Everything is so romanticized, and sexualized. Who can sort through it all?



I want you two to split. I want you to ripen. And I want myself to shrink and grow.

Witchcraft anyone?

Nothing.

The smell of cherry reminds me of so many things. None of which I particularly feel like listing , or discussing in any great detail. My hands are soft in New Hampshire. What will this next year bring forth I wonder? So many things could happen, so many things could go wrong or go right. Who am I to presume which will be what?

I am tired of being how I am. Go , go , go , go , go!

Something that isn't there.

I want so many things and yet I do not want any of them. I love Chester, and I love its people and I love my new friends. It is surprising to me, which with all this love floating around, that I am so utterly and strangely …unsettled. Not even that. I am pleased and content where I am, but I know that this sense of security will never last long.
I must organize my life. December I will be in Italy. I must keep my wits about me. That’s all I can say. Why do I always expect the worst? I miss Daniela and I want to go see her in Bolivia. I have the time, and the money, and I certainly have the desire. But is it going to be beneficial? Or am I going to pick open a scab that has just recently crusted over. Gross.

I want to learn Spanish. Next summer I want to go to Guatemala for a month or so to…immerse myself. This also involves money. I’m not afraid.

Oh yeah, and this blog is shit. I never say anything interesting. Even that sentence was monotonous.
I start tomorrow.

writing to no one

I missed you today.
Seeing the damage you've done to others fills me with sadness ,but also an inexplicable relief that I have been spared. From you, essentially. Does that hurt your feelings?

Maybe I am feeling this way towards you because I am currently in the process of grieving other things. Picking up the pieces, finding myself, collecting and processing past moments and turning them into memories. How beautiful this is, the creation of memory. It's what we are left with when god takens something away, or so I read somewhere once. We nurture these memories, we dance with them.

The pillow you gave me is losing its scent. It smelled of really strong lavander, but now I find that I have to bury my nose in it to detect even a hint of its former glory.

I hear that you still have some invested interest in me. Occasionally you will ask about me, or ask for my number. What is it that you want?

I see others with theirs, and I am so....jealous. So envious of that which everyone I know takes for granted. I want to search in your face, and find something of myself in it. I want to crawl into your arms. I want to know that everything is going to be alright. Tell me please.

I know that it is impossible for us to have anything.

perdoname

I am harboring a fervent desire to escape.

I need to stop eating, and start school in two weeks.

I want to be happy again with what I have and what I've done and what I am.

I want time to pass.

College starts soon. Not soon enough.

Something wicked this way comes..

Neither good things, nor bad things, are currently gracing the crevices of my cerebellum.

Everything I am in nothing.

I'm want something to occur. But, as always, it seems that I am waiting for something that is has not intention of arriving. Distractiondistractiondistractiondistraction.

Metamorphasis.

I made a promise to myself, years ago when I started this blog, that I would write only the truth. Thus far, I've done a pretty good job of it , my biggest offences being only minor omitting of truths. But hey, if I can afford to omit in my own , private blog, whose business is it but my own? And for this entry, which could create significant problems if read by certain others, I would like to start out by saying that I am very often wrong, but sometimes I am right. And it should happen that when I have a hunch about something unpleasant, it often turns out to be dead on. And so it is with a significantly heavy, bored, exasperated heart, that I will share with cyberspace what I knew was coming all along.

I have tried my best. I do everything in my power to keep things happy. To keep connections going. To keep the beast alive, so they say. They also say that you can "bring a horse to water, but you can't make him drink." I have found that this is true. And as the days go by, I feel my "longing" lessening. I feel things that were once SO important to me becominng less and less so. Moments and snibbits of my life that I treasured so dearly, loved so strongly, are now slowly taking on the form of memory.

I have been trying to fight it.

That part of my life is over, but I didn't want it to be. I accepted that it was done, but at the same time I wanted something new and beautiful to grow out of it. We could never have the same moments again, but maybe we could build on them. Maybe we could make it better! I wasn't going to let the miles, and later, the years , affect relationships at all.

My efforts have been reciprocated enough, but slowly I am beginning to get the feeling that I am the last one hanging on. Perhaps its timing. Familial issues getting in the way of my "readjusment" and so I have not been able to assimilate myself quite as quickly. The bounceback has been more of a ..crawl back. But I am only now beginning to consider the possibility that maybe this is how it is supposed to be.

I will continue what I am doing. Letters, emails, phone calls, etc. But at the same time I have to prepare myself for the almost inevitable. The growing apart that people do. The distance that is not getting any shorter. And of course, the only thing we can all be sure of ; the time that will surely pass. I will take these moments, these months, these weeks, these heartaches and triumphs and confusions and these loves, and I will weave them into memory. Something to look back on when I am old. Something to love and nurture from afar. It never ends you know ,this love, it only changes; takes on new form and energy and meaning as time passes.


I am a small child, looking out of my bedroom window moments before dawn, looking out over the roof of the neighbor house. To my small eyes, it is a mountain. The colors change ; blue, to purple , to pink, to orange. Sunrise approaches. The world awakes.

waterslides.

I've discovered recently that my main emotions, at least lately, are those of anger and boredom. Which , in my opinion, is an absolutely deadly combination. Because when I am bored, I think, and upon doing that, I get mad.

I feel as if nothing is happening. nothing bad, nothing good, nothing nothing nothing. I am a blob of useless and ridiculous energy. In rarely accomplish anything, and when I do, I get impatient with myself for not immediately accomplishing something else. I don't know where I want to be. I certainly dont know with whom I want to be (as if that could ever be easy) , and I am fairly sure that i am going insane. Slowly. So slowly in fact that no one is noticing, because I am a good faker of sanity. I talk and walk and smile and discuss extra long sheets for my dorm room, and sicilian cooking, and dog hiccups. But really, not belonging anywhere is driving the cheese off the cracker.

I want something so good to happen. Everyone tells me how much fun they are having, how many things they are doing, and what am I doing? I want something good to happen, so all of this seems like a distant piece of nothing. I want to go to bed late, so i wake up late in the morning. So my day is half gone!

The mind has mountains.

What will the summer bring forth, I wonder? Everyone , including myself, is growing up. Moving on, going away, traveling, etc. I feel left out even though I am not. I want to have a lot of fun, because with fun and distraction, time comes more quickly. And with time, perspective. Which I want very, very desperately.


Off to be social!


i am an artichoke.