I spent the weekend feeling ill and yesterday I was again acquainted with my stomach's functions, which was... lovely. Today I feel a lot better though and I'm thinking I should get some laundry done.
I arrived in Boise, Idaho on Tuesday afternoon and spent the next few days with my Aunt Judi. It was a nice break from the month's craziness. Thursday I met up with my aunts Quinn and Selya and I drove down with them to Idaho Falls. It could have been a lot worse being stuck in a car for fours hours or so with a sick baby and three Chihuahuas. I was very happy to see them and we stopped by Grammie and Pappy's grave site, which was a bit odd upon seeing 'Violet' on a gravestone. We also stopped by the old house so I could take some pictures of it. Speaking of Grammie, Grandma GG gave me a photocopy of Grammie Violet when she was my age- give or take- and it makes me happy.
This weekend I headed to Island Park for some camping, however, I'm not sure I can even call it that. First off, we "camped" in what was really a house on wheels (crown molding anyone?). There wasn't even a fire! It was nice to spend time with Zach though. I missed him a lot in the past two weeks. Since the bugs were so bad on top of me not feeling well I spent the majority of the time in the camper/house and finished my book The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson. I haven't read any mystery novels in a long time and this one turned out to be a pleasant surprise. I cannot pin point exactly why I liked it so much, or what made me read half of the sequel in one morning but it may have something to do with the complex characters.
I am spending tomorrow and Wednesday with my great grandparents on the Pond side. I'm excited to spend some extended alone time with them because I have never gotten that chance before. It has always been small visits to see them every couple of years for an hour or so, then off to the next relative. This time I will be able to listen to their stories and get to know them better. Hopefully, I can also walk toward the back of their property and see the old Anderson house. Its incredible to still have that kind of family history still around. I plan to then visit my great grandparents on the Hudman side on Thursday and Friday :)
Why do I always write so much? Its like some weird addiction where I cannot stop. I feel so self conscious now that I let people know I have this. Before, I only had created a blog because I often wanted to vent on a computer and now I feel more aware of what I am writing. Like before, I would have complained that people bicker to much over absolutely nothing but now I'm more cautious of what I say. Always so cautious; will it ever stop? I would not be surprised if I woke up with yellow type wrapped around me one day.
I hope I get into a photojournalism course this fall. I hate to say it in a way, but I really cannot wait for school to start again. Classes keep me focused and sharp. Right now I feel focused, but dull. I want something else to think about, something with a deeper meaning. Why can I not ever enjoy vacations for too long?
no quirky ending this time.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Bursting My Own Bubble
I have always known that, while I love new experiences, I am most likely to resist change from occurring. No matter how much I may want something, I always try and reject anything from taking place in the way it was planned to be. The way I had planned for it to be. Today is my last full day in Ohio, in this little bubble of my childhood. There is so much that must still be completed before tomorrow and yet, I find myself rigid and obstinate. Pull the blanket over my head, read for two hours on the couch, purposely ignore the clock's chiming reminders of the reality. It is a good thing that my mother is not home; she would become frustrated at my attempts (or rather lack of attempt) and I would hate to have any argument.
There is so much that I must get done, however, there is so much more that I must say. Whether it was on this pointless blog (which I only have due to the convenience in fast typing) or in my journal, I feel that some draining of my thought sludge could help my increased stress levels.
I am no longer employed (for obvious reasons in moving) and I feel that it has made me quite happier in the short term of the surrounding chaos. Two weeks ago [could it have really been that long ago?] my grandparents flew in town and I spent the week immersing myself in (some rather pointless) graduation events. Usually I found myself annoyed with the undertaking and ended up skipping the Senior Picnic, for example, to hang out with Ed the majority of the week. He came over for dinner Friday night and helped us sent up the tent. The next day, I was an even bigger ball of stress and practically ran myself sick. Finally, around three o'clock, my dad called me. I came back from IGA to the house and many guests were already there. I took Ed with me and we drove to meet my dad at his hotel. All in all, I was late for my own graduation party by a whole hour (lovely timing) and continued the day in a relaxed haste (if there is such a description). By the end of the day, I had accumulated a bunch of money and gift cards, had Ed smash cake (mmm frosting with red dye stains) in my face, made numbers of short rounds to people I would have loved to converse with more, and listened to drunk people in the garage during a thunderstorm passionately discuss everything pointless with educated arguments.
Sunday, my dad came to the house for breakfast with the family and we left for my graduation ceremony around 1:30. To be honest, they had a great ceremony but I was tired and hungry after a couple hours had passed. The speeches were all entertaining, they called each student with a small description of accomplishments & etc, I received my diploma, snap snap photographs, and I spent the rest of the time in a fog. I remember seeing my mother with tears in her eyes and I recall making faces at Ed whenever he glanced over to the left. It did not feel like a graduation or a glorious completion of my thirteen year career in Perry Schools. Rather, I was sure it was another school assembly and we all happened to be wearing funny costumes: a dream of course.
Monday, Zachary and my dad left. It was harder to see my brother leave. Indeed, you know when your sibling loves you when they beat the living crap out of you first. I ended up crying when they had left. Of course...even though I'm really leaving him.
And now:
...the rest of the week has gone by in a haze of dust. My childhood has been tossed, donated, and stored in the basement. After graduation my mom helped me hurriedly pack away two suitcases of my things to fly back with my dad as I helplessly stood there watching. That is how most of the week's packing frenzy has played out: I would stand helpless, unhelpful to those trying to help me, and I would eventually crumble into a literal ball under my bed covers. Thank you for trying to help, sorry I am acting like a child again, good-day.
...I am (frantically?) typing out my thoughts and hoping their temporary dismissal will bring some relief. I feel exhausted and one of the worst things about it all is that I cannot, absolutely have failed in all attempts to talk to the one person that I want to talk to. I know that they would make me feel better in this chaotic state of being, however, I am left tired. Tired because I can't fall asleep, rather pathetically hoping I will get a phone call to help me calm down.
I have to get going, I think. I cannot just lay here all day hoping that things will get done by themselves. That is irrational and irresponsible...granted it would be an amazing occurrence in itself. I could lay back and watch it all unfold and sit here wasting my last day away.
I guess I must get going and grow up. Put my bubbles, coloring, and chalk away for a while...just for a little bit?
There is so much that I must get done, however, there is so much more that I must say. Whether it was on this pointless blog (which I only have due to the convenience in fast typing) or in my journal, I feel that some draining of my thought sludge could help my increased stress levels.
I am no longer employed (for obvious reasons in moving) and I feel that it has made me quite happier in the short term of the surrounding chaos. Two weeks ago [could it have really been that long ago?] my grandparents flew in town and I spent the week immersing myself in (some rather pointless) graduation events. Usually I found myself annoyed with the undertaking and ended up skipping the Senior Picnic, for example, to hang out with Ed the majority of the week. He came over for dinner Friday night and helped us sent up the tent. The next day, I was an even bigger ball of stress and practically ran myself sick. Finally, around three o'clock, my dad called me. I came back from IGA to the house and many guests were already there. I took Ed with me and we drove to meet my dad at his hotel. All in all, I was late for my own graduation party by a whole hour (lovely timing) and continued the day in a relaxed haste (if there is such a description). By the end of the day, I had accumulated a bunch of money and gift cards, had Ed smash cake (mmm frosting with red dye stains) in my face, made numbers of short rounds to people I would have loved to converse with more, and listened to drunk people in the garage during a thunderstorm passionately discuss everything pointless with educated arguments.
Sunday, my dad came to the house for breakfast with the family and we left for my graduation ceremony around 1:30. To be honest, they had a great ceremony but I was tired and hungry after a couple hours had passed. The speeches were all entertaining, they called each student with a small description of accomplishments & etc, I received my diploma, snap snap photographs, and I spent the rest of the time in a fog. I remember seeing my mother with tears in her eyes and I recall making faces at Ed whenever he glanced over to the left. It did not feel like a graduation or a glorious completion of my thirteen year career in Perry Schools. Rather, I was sure it was another school assembly and we all happened to be wearing funny costumes: a dream of course.
Monday, Zachary and my dad left. It was harder to see my brother leave. Indeed, you know when your sibling loves you when they beat the living crap out of you first. I ended up crying when they had left. Of course...even though I'm really leaving him.
And now:
...the rest of the week has gone by in a haze of dust. My childhood has been tossed, donated, and stored in the basement. After graduation my mom helped me hurriedly pack away two suitcases of my things to fly back with my dad as I helplessly stood there watching. That is how most of the week's packing frenzy has played out: I would stand helpless, unhelpful to those trying to help me, and I would eventually crumble into a literal ball under my bed covers. Thank you for trying to help, sorry I am acting like a child again, good-day.
...I am (frantically?) typing out my thoughts and hoping their temporary dismissal will bring some relief. I feel exhausted and one of the worst things about it all is that I cannot, absolutely have failed in all attempts to talk to the one person that I want to talk to. I know that they would make me feel better in this chaotic state of being, however, I am left tired. Tired because I can't fall asleep, rather pathetically hoping I will get a phone call to help me calm down.
I have to get going, I think. I cannot just lay here all day hoping that things will get done by themselves. That is irrational and irresponsible...granted it would be an amazing occurrence in itself. I could lay back and watch it all unfold and sit here wasting my last day away.
I guess I must get going and grow up. Put my bubbles, coloring, and chalk away for a while...just for a little bit?
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