Hi gang!
I am still alive, I swear. I was just thinking how mad I was that Leah hasn't updated her blog in, like, forever, and then realized that I had not updated in way longer than that. And apparently I have avid readers (though they are rare commenters....just sayin...), so I apologize for my lapse.
I don't even really have much of anything to post right now. I'm just posting because I remembered to.
Some quick notes:
-How fucking great of a movie is Casper? Seriously! And more importantly, Devon Sawa. When he says "Can I keep you?" Come on. COME ON. I remember going with all my friends to see that movie for my ninth birthday party, and my friend Lisa was talking the whole way about how dreamy the kid who played Casper was. And then I saw it, and saw that he was an animated ghost, and was disappointed, but then got to the end and OH MY GOD did I understand. Ugh. So good. Also, that movie is maybe a little much for children. Lots of death. Bill Pullman actively trying to kill himself for pretty much the entire film. Happy 9th Birthday Colleen! Typical.
-American Horror Story. Please. I need someone to have watched this show, besides me. I spent about 20 minutes explaining the plot of the entire show to my parents last night at dinner, and they thought it was ridiculous. But it is, in fact, AMAZING. But now the season is over. Sad. But still...please watch at least what episodes are available online. Or at least the pilot. Just watch the pilot and let me know what you think.
-Christmas happened. It was lovely. Warm, cozy, and delicious.
-I got a haircut. If I weren't so unshowered right now, I would post a picture, for those that haven't seen it. I really love it though, it's exactly what I wanted. I'm pretty much obsessed with myself. Also, with short hair, glasses, and big boobs, I feel like I am a librarian/secretary/receptionist/teacher in a porn. Except without all the sex. Without any of the sex, really. I really need to get myself a pencil skirt.
-I've made the official decision that I am moving back to Rochester, come September-ish. I'm kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to happen to make this impossible, or maybe for me to just return to the realization that this is impossible, because I have no money, but for now, I'm excited about it.
-The aforementioned PJ situation happened. I shall provide an epilogue to that story sometime in the future, as requested, though I've pretty much updated everyone. I survived.
-I am feeling...optimistic about 2012. I don't want to jinx myself, but 2011 was pretty much the worst year of my entire life, by a long shot, so I'm hoping against hope that 2012 can't possibly be any worse. Someone will probably be reading this aloud at my funeral, but whatever. Just make sure to include the part about Casper. And maybe not the part about me being a pornstar.
Happy Holidays. Well, the one remaining holiday left in the holiday season. I love everyone for reading this, and for loving me, and for making me happy throughout this miserable year. Here's to a wonderful 2012 full of a lot more of each of you in my life.
And maybe...some more posts? We'll see.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
A Seasonal Walk Down Memory Lane
Listen. It's certainly been a long time since I was 14 years old. Longer than I like to think about. I have changed in a lot of ways, but every now and then, I am reminded that in some ways, I am very much the same.
For example, I think as long as I live, there will never be a time when JC Chasez does not make my heart explode a little bit.
[Ed. Note: At this point, if you do not know who JC Chasez is, I am certainly not going to explain it to you.]
I came across a video of him performing at the Trevor Project Live this weekend:
I mean, honestly? True Colors? One of my favorite songs, ever. Cyndi Lauper is my girl. And I don't care how old I am, or how old he is, he still makes my knees a little wibble-wobbly.
And then I came across this seasonally-appropriate little gem:
Heart. Melting. Their voices are like a sweater to my heart. And you can quote me on that. And Justin's sweater is like a sweater to....well...it's really fucking soft. What's funny, is that at some point, I have watched this performance enough times that I can close my eyes, listen to this song, and mimic JC's hand gestures perfectly. It's a sickness.
And to think my NSYNC obsession came before the days of YouTube is just outrageous. All of the EFFORT I put in to programming our 1983 VCR to record their every appearance, only to be outraged when the VCR refused to work during a very important TRL interview, or awards show performance. All those VHS tapes that I still....have....in my closet.
Anyway, back to the video....can I just say I miss THIS Justin Timberlake? Where did THIS Justin go? I mean, look at that adorable little angel face? Those caterpillar eyebrows that never quite completed their crawl across his forehead. I miss that Justin. New Justin is kind of douche-y.
Sigh.
File this under: sometimes I feel like I'm only blogging for Leah.
For example, I think as long as I live, there will never be a time when JC Chasez does not make my heart explode a little bit.
[Ed. Note: At this point, if you do not know who JC Chasez is, I am certainly not going to explain it to you.]
I came across a video of him performing at the Trevor Project Live this weekend:
I mean, honestly? True Colors? One of my favorite songs, ever. Cyndi Lauper is my girl. And I don't care how old I am, or how old he is, he still makes my knees a little wibble-wobbly.
And then I came across this seasonally-appropriate little gem:
Heart. Melting. Their voices are like a sweater to my heart. And you can quote me on that. And Justin's sweater is like a sweater to....well...it's really fucking soft. What's funny, is that at some point, I have watched this performance enough times that I can close my eyes, listen to this song, and mimic JC's hand gestures perfectly. It's a sickness.
And to think my NSYNC obsession came before the days of YouTube is just outrageous. All of the EFFORT I put in to programming our 1983 VCR to record their every appearance, only to be outraged when the VCR refused to work during a very important TRL interview, or awards show performance. All those VHS tapes that I still....have....in my closet.
Anyway, back to the video....can I just say I miss THIS Justin Timberlake? Where did THIS Justin go? I mean, look at that adorable little angel face? Those caterpillar eyebrows that never quite completed their crawl across his forehead. I miss that Justin. New Justin is kind of douche-y.
Sigh.
File this under: sometimes I feel like I'm only blogging for Leah.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Surprise
Well, the unthinkable is happening. Well, more like the highly unlikely.
My brother, his wife, and three children are coming for a "visit" next Saturday.
This will be the first time I have seen them, spoken with them, or communicated with them at all in over three years.
I haven't seen my niece Jenna since she was 2, she is now 5. I haven't seen my nephew Joshua since he was an infant, he is now 3. I have never seen my youngest niece, Jordyn.
I haven't seen PJ and Michelle since my mother called me in Rochester, crying on a random streetcorner in Lowville, because my parents had gone to their house to try to work things out, and both PJ and Michelle said terrible, unforgivable things to them, and told them to get off of their property or they were going to call the police. While my mother walked down unfamiliar streets to get away from the shouting, she called me crying because she thought my dad was going to give himself a heart attack.
I haven't seen PJ since both Gretchen and I sent him lengthy emails, because he and Michelle were screening their calls. Emails to which we received no response, but convinced him that we were puppets of my mother's creation, and he wanted nothing more to do with us.
I have not seen him since my parents have made repeated efforts to repair the relationship: apologizing for things they've never done, making phone calls where they only get torn down or ridiculed, going to therapy to see if any of this made sense from an outsider's perspective, driving almost 2 hours for 45-minute visits in which they weren't offered food or drink, weren't allowed to touch the kids, and were not acknowledged by Michelle at all.
I have watched these last several years as my parents get their hopes up that maybe things might work out this time, only to have them dashed again and again and again. I have watched how it has changed both of them, making them tense and emotional and argumentative. Now that I'm home, I have waited out a number of arguments about PJ and Michelle from up in my bedroom, just like a little kid.
We have passed holiday after holiday as a family of 4. While other people pass food around a giant family table, we're eating leftover turkey for 4 months. I have received no acknowledgment from my brother and his family of any birthday, or holiday, or achievement, or life event.
So now they're coming. For lunch. And will likely stay an hour. A very tense hour, with my father overjoyed, assuming everything is finally back to normal (as he always does), my mother trying way too hard to be nice and friendly and non-judgmental, which always comes off as horribly fake.
The variables in this situation are Gretchen and I. We are not sure we will be in attendance. No one ever thought this situation would arise. We never thought we'd have the opportunity to see them again until one of my parents died, if then. Now knowing that I have less than one week to emotionally prepare to have this entire section of "family" reenter my life is daunting.
I had hoped that by the next time I saw them, especially my brother, I would have accomplished so much that it would really make him regret missing out on all these years of my life. But I haven't. I have not done anything with my life in these last several years, other than screw it up even more. The only thing I have accomplished in the last three years of my life is getting my driver's license, which as I've said repeatedly, is a laughably embarrassing achievement at age 25 (or 24, as it were). I'm sure he'll be so impressed that I've gained 40 lbs, moved back in with my parents, have no social life, and work in customer service at a stamp company. He's obviously really missed out on a lot.
And this, I think, is my biggest reservation about seeing him again. Because as much as I talk a big game about being so angry at him, and never forgiving him, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he will show up on our doorstep on Saturday, and I will still see the PJ that watched an entire Celebrity Mole marathon with me, and taught me all the best about early-90s grunge rock, and couldn't watch as Gretchen and Leah and I rode the Skycoaster at Darien Lake. He is still my big brother, and I still want him to be proud of me. So in the same way that I avoid chatty phone calls, and ignore messages that friendly acquaintances write on my Facebook wall, and panic whenever I run into someone I know at Wal-Mart, I am terrified of being in a "getting-to-know-you" situation with him, where he will be asking all about my life, and I am so ashamed of the answers.
But I will be there, of course. And not only because my parents would be disappointed if I wasn't, and because I don't want to stoop to his level of pettiness. I will be there, because I am always the one to take the punches. I go into situations like these, knowing I will get hurt, knowing they will just make the constant weight in my stomach a little heavier. It is my naive disconnect with the real world, that makes me think everything will work out the way it should, when in fact everything has taught me otherwise.
So here I go, setting myself up to get kicked while I'm down, once again. Except this time it's going to hurt even more.
My brother, his wife, and three children are coming for a "visit" next Saturday.
This will be the first time I have seen them, spoken with them, or communicated with them at all in over three years.
I haven't seen my niece Jenna since she was 2, she is now 5. I haven't seen my nephew Joshua since he was an infant, he is now 3. I have never seen my youngest niece, Jordyn.
I haven't seen PJ and Michelle since my mother called me in Rochester, crying on a random streetcorner in Lowville, because my parents had gone to their house to try to work things out, and both PJ and Michelle said terrible, unforgivable things to them, and told them to get off of their property or they were going to call the police. While my mother walked down unfamiliar streets to get away from the shouting, she called me crying because she thought my dad was going to give himself a heart attack.
I haven't seen PJ since both Gretchen and I sent him lengthy emails, because he and Michelle were screening their calls. Emails to which we received no response, but convinced him that we were puppets of my mother's creation, and he wanted nothing more to do with us.
I have not seen him since my parents have made repeated efforts to repair the relationship: apologizing for things they've never done, making phone calls where they only get torn down or ridiculed, going to therapy to see if any of this made sense from an outsider's perspective, driving almost 2 hours for 45-minute visits in which they weren't offered food or drink, weren't allowed to touch the kids, and were not acknowledged by Michelle at all.
I have watched these last several years as my parents get their hopes up that maybe things might work out this time, only to have them dashed again and again and again. I have watched how it has changed both of them, making them tense and emotional and argumentative. Now that I'm home, I have waited out a number of arguments about PJ and Michelle from up in my bedroom, just like a little kid.
We have passed holiday after holiday as a family of 4. While other people pass food around a giant family table, we're eating leftover turkey for 4 months. I have received no acknowledgment from my brother and his family of any birthday, or holiday, or achievement, or life event.
So now they're coming. For lunch. And will likely stay an hour. A very tense hour, with my father overjoyed, assuming everything is finally back to normal (as he always does), my mother trying way too hard to be nice and friendly and non-judgmental, which always comes off as horribly fake.
The variables in this situation are Gretchen and I. We are not sure we will be in attendance. No one ever thought this situation would arise. We never thought we'd have the opportunity to see them again until one of my parents died, if then. Now knowing that I have less than one week to emotionally prepare to have this entire section of "family" reenter my life is daunting.
I had hoped that by the next time I saw them, especially my brother, I would have accomplished so much that it would really make him regret missing out on all these years of my life. But I haven't. I have not done anything with my life in these last several years, other than screw it up even more. The only thing I have accomplished in the last three years of my life is getting my driver's license, which as I've said repeatedly, is a laughably embarrassing achievement at age 25 (or 24, as it were). I'm sure he'll be so impressed that I've gained 40 lbs, moved back in with my parents, have no social life, and work in customer service at a stamp company. He's obviously really missed out on a lot.
And this, I think, is my biggest reservation about seeing him again. Because as much as I talk a big game about being so angry at him, and never forgiving him, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he will show up on our doorstep on Saturday, and I will still see the PJ that watched an entire Celebrity Mole marathon with me, and taught me all the best about early-90s grunge rock, and couldn't watch as Gretchen and Leah and I rode the Skycoaster at Darien Lake. He is still my big brother, and I still want him to be proud of me. So in the same way that I avoid chatty phone calls, and ignore messages that friendly acquaintances write on my Facebook wall, and panic whenever I run into someone I know at Wal-Mart, I am terrified of being in a "getting-to-know-you" situation with him, where he will be asking all about my life, and I am so ashamed of the answers.
But I will be there, of course. And not only because my parents would be disappointed if I wasn't, and because I don't want to stoop to his level of pettiness. I will be there, because I am always the one to take the punches. I go into situations like these, knowing I will get hurt, knowing they will just make the constant weight in my stomach a little heavier. It is my naive disconnect with the real world, that makes me think everything will work out the way it should, when in fact everything has taught me otherwise.
So here I go, setting myself up to get kicked while I'm down, once again. Except this time it's going to hurt even more.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Sisterhood
I just finished reading Sisterhood Everlasting, the last and recent installment in the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants series.
It made me cry, as several of the other books have. Not always because of the subject matter, but because, though I am not a Carmen, or a Tibby, or a Bridget, or a Lena, nor do I know anyone that fits very well in any of those molds, I do fancy myself part of a sisterhood. I have an amazing group of girls, some of the most wonderful people I have ever met, and I hope our lives are as forever entwined as The Septembers'.
As much as I worry about being left alone and left behind in several aspects of my life, I hope to see a day of rocking in a chair on a big porch, surrounded by familiar grey-haired friends, children running in the yard, getting along as though no time has passed.
Together or apart, no matter how far apart, we live in one another. We go on together.
It made me cry, as several of the other books have. Not always because of the subject matter, but because, though I am not a Carmen, or a Tibby, or a Bridget, or a Lena, nor do I know anyone that fits very well in any of those molds, I do fancy myself part of a sisterhood. I have an amazing group of girls, some of the most wonderful people I have ever met, and I hope our lives are as forever entwined as The Septembers'.
As much as I worry about being left alone and left behind in several aspects of my life, I hope to see a day of rocking in a chair on a big porch, surrounded by familiar grey-haired friends, children running in the yard, getting along as though no time has passed.
Together or apart, no matter how far apart, we live in one another. We go on together.
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