I have just completed a very depressing book, the one I mentioned last entry. I don't know why all these books I've been reading lately have been depressing, and I don't know if they really are depressing of if it's just me being sad that the book is over, but I do know that Anne Lamott's new novel just came out and I have purchased it and will be reading it next. Hopefully, I won't cry at the end of this one because I tend to finish these at work and end up tearing up and no one notices in spite of the fact that I sit in the middle of everything and that makes everything all the more sad.
Derrick is coming to visit in August. My mum and Aaron's mum and my brother will be in town in August as well. If we never had any visitors, our apartment would be a roach-infested stink pit. Fortunately, we have become immensely popular with people who don't live in San Francisco, so people are coming to visit all the time and we make it a point to keep it clean enough so that visitors won't think we're paying $1200 for a garbage dump. We're just messy people.
We have big dreams, Aaron and I, though they're only big because we have to dream of them. We dream of weddings and receptions where I don't run away because too many people are looking at me, where all of his friends and my friends mingle peacefully. We dream of owning a house where Aaron can make a garden and we can have a wall where we paint whenever we feel like it, though the rest of the walls will be painted properly. We dream of having a yard where the dog can dig holes and no one, least of all us, will care.
I dream of days when my head isn't clouded, when I can walk without thinking about how I'm walking, when I'm more comfortable out in the open instead of curled up in a ball, when I care about going outside of the apartment, when I can identify myself as myself instead of whatever book I'm reading at that moment.
Maybe I have a brain cloud and need to be thrown into a volcano, just to have it erupt and toss me into the ocean where I will land amongst my belongings which will be encased floating chests and someone will be there to say, "It's always gotta be something with you, doesn't it?"
I had a slight epiphany the other day when I realized that I've been running away since I was in pre-school. I had a traumatizing moment in pre-school when some girl made a snotty comment and I asked my mom to transfer me. The longest I've stayed at any one school is three years. After first grade, I moved to a Christian school and was placed into the third grade. After fifth grade, I transferred to public middle school. Then I went away to boarding school and came back to public high school after two years. I used to think I was terrifically normal, enjoyed normal things, spent my days normally, but if I'm normal I feel terribly sorry for everyone else because this is a horrible existence.
Did you know that terrific can mean both very bad and unusually fine? I didn't. I thought it just meant extraordinary, which is another one of its definitions.
one year ago today: nothin.
two years ago today: "Joanna and Me: Ooooooooooooooooooooooo."
three years ago today: "they're in love...??...!!....."