Mom's 50th

I’m trying to write it down pretty but it just wasn’t.
This weekend has left me feeling such a mixture of shame, glory, indulgence, thankfulness and embarrassment. I know one thing…this one goes out to my Hugo for holding my hand through all of it, even if he did participate in the Carrie roast a little. If you’re going to be roasted by a room full of people it might as well be drunken family members who you know live you anyways, or maybe for it although they’ll never admit it! I wore my dark sunglasses and it was night. Of course three hours later found me jerking upwards from sleep in a cold sweat in the full throngs of a full on panic attack. I think it was my first real one. I had to talk to myself and rationalize the voices down. I had to say over and over again that I can do it, I can get through this week, I can get through this panel and this semester and be in a better place if I just hang on and focus a little more. Last night felt like an eventuality that I already knew I was heading towards. It was like all of a sudden I was in the middle of it and I was shocked and scared and didn’t think it was possible to be that scarred and overwhelmed. It was horrible, I won’t lie, it was bad. But the point is, I was up this morning and it was a distant memory hidden under my night’s black veil. And so I go on…

My mother is…

50
blonde
short
a traveler
in a relationship with a woman
still trying to heal
lucky to have me as a daughter
kind of dramatic
loud
quite
sweet
mean
a diva
younger than ever
dysfunctional
obsessive
lovely
so young
beautiful!

Letter to self

Dear Girl Leading a Brilliant Life,

I know things have been a little hard for you this year. Your 27th year seems to have started with a scooter crash that left you bruised and bloody and you haven’t really recovered since. I also know that in spite of the scooter crash you had such high hopes for this year of your life. You don’t usually allow omens to affect your overall thinking when they are negative signs. I am writing to say that maybe you should pay attention. Maybe the scooter crash was the big omen and it’s just not going to get better for you. Maybe you’ll die, maybe someone you love will instead. Maybe it will just keep getting worse until you do actually develop an ulcer and flip your lid. Maybe that will happen to you in a moment that was supposed to be serene and under control, like, I don’t know practicing hot yoga or something like that. You should probably be fearful and skeptical of all things. Set yourself up so that you are no longer surprised by the pain and agony of misfortune knocking at your door. Maybe this year is all about that, maybe you have to learn to be more careful and wearier and you should probably consider just stopping your pursuit of any pleasure in life because it doesn’t look like that is going to happen. Is this what you wanted me to say?

The Other Me: “No”

Well what the fuck do you want me to say about the pathetic mess of your life right now??!! Have you seen the balls of dog hair that circulate in your apartment and the piles of clothes and unopened mail? Do you realize you haven’t even gone to the mailbox in a week and you walk past it everyday? You drink too much, smoke too many cigarettes, don’t take your dog out enough, you’re mean to your mother, you procrastinate like a 12 year old who doesn’t want to clean her room or write her book reports (yes, I’m referring to you at 12 also!), and you don’t really seem to be affected by my utter disgust with your life!

The Other Me: “Well, I was doing okay, and then my therapist moved to Denver, my car broke down, My little sister got knocked up, I crashed a scooter, had to file for bankruptcy, stopped giving a shit about my wonderful new job and really just became incapable of taking care of myself in general.”

Good, we are becoming one…your voice is my voice…

The other me: “but…in spite of all of that, I have some really good friends that love me a lot”

You don’t see them enough because you’re too busy…

The Other Me: “I am going to apply for that job that I want really badly and I might get it…I could…I might could…and no I won’t use a double modal in the interview but I defend the semantic legitimacy of the use of double modals in general so go fuck yourself if you’ve got a problem with my using them!”

Um…

The Other Me: “Yeah so, I could get the job and I am graduating and I just have to live through one more month and a half of torturous hell and in the mean time I am writing again and taking pictures that I love and I had really good sex just yesterday!”

Okay, okay, I see how you could still be optimistic in the face of all of this torturous hell, but don’t you still doubt and possibly even hate yourself just a little bit still? Aren’t you scared that all of your optimism is a pathetic ploy to keep your washed up, destined for misery self from completely offing yourself thus ending your inadequate existence on this earth?

The Other Me: “maybe…maybe”

Beautiful Morning

I guess it's a good thing when your life has been so filled with trauma and stress that you really start to appreciate the little things. My father always says, "It's the little things that'll get you". I believe him, it's also the little things that'll save you, rest you and aide you in making it through another day of all the shit your wading through. The little things that I'm thankful for this morning are this


A really good cup of fresh ground coffee, an extremely pulpy glass of orange juice and a free hour to write and take care of myself. Life isn't that bad this morning. I say that with a small measure of precaution only because every time I have said that over the past few months, it has been directly followed by something way bigger than I thought I could deal with! I'm sick of that feeling. I just want to be out of the woods.

I love my boyfriend. We aren’t in a perfect relationship, but we are in a good one. Sometimes we argue and get on each other’s nerves. Sometimes when he puts his hands too close to mine and I don't feel like having anyone in my personal space, I will push his hands away ever so slightly. It is the same thing I do to my sisters or mother if they are 'up in my face' (which isn't that uncommon). But I do it to him too, I think it's because I expect him to be around so long that pushing him out of my way a little is a sign of that comfort with his presence in my life. It's the first time it's ever matched up with anyone. We're equals. That means that a lot of compromising has to go on between us. The good thing about that is that we mostly like the same stuff so we don’t' have to argue about what to do or how to spend our time. Sometimes I get upset because we don't appear to be like other couples, like all gooey eyed and supportive and loving (unless were drunk). But about that, I am working on that being okay, it's okay that we are different than that. We 'act' like ourselves. And I guess I'm just the type of person that is much more likely to get pick a fight with you than to stop and supportively make eye contact in a crowd of people. That's just who I am. It's not my fault; I blame it on my family!