Written: August 24th, 2011 [on the plane to Newark]
For the first time in my college career, I am not flying towards an expectation. There is no love waiting for me at the end of this plane ride. There is no hug waiting for me outside of baggage claim. There will be no friendly face to smile at. And that makes me feel so empty, for as strong as I say I am.
Everyone has asked me whether I was excited to go back to school. Honestly, I wasn't. But not because I had any strong attachment to Washington or my family (sans my sister). More than anything, I am anxious to just finish school and start this whole life thing. I like I am just waiting for everything to truly START. Press play, Dad, I want to see what happens.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Saturday, August 27, 2011
On Being an Outsider: At a Funeral
[Disclaimer: I went to my (now) brother-in-laws' grandfather's funeral two months ago. This is just a personal account on how I felt when I was there. To hear of his death was very shocking and sad.]
Wear all the black you can and do your best to look somber. You may not really have known the dearly departed, but you are there to pay your respects. Everyone's going to give you disdainful looks for being there, but hold yourself together and give them a sorrowful look back. Maybe your fear will be masked by sadness.
Go with your mom so you don't see too out of place. Let her do most of the talking - she knew him better anyways. Ignore how you will be ignored and relish saying your goodbyes in your head as mom shakes Uncle Tim's hand.
Sit in the back row. Find out it's not really the back row at all but actually the break in the aisle where the procession marches through. Awkwardly bow your head as the whole family, priests and altar boys walk by you. Wonder who designed the stupid aisles, curse them and blush while trying to keep a mournful look.
Wear all the black you can and do your best to look somber. You may not really have known the dearly departed, but you are there to pay your respects. Everyone's going to give you disdainful looks for being there, but hold yourself together and give them a sorrowful look back. Maybe your fear will be masked by sadness.
Go with your mom so you don't see too out of place. Let her do most of the talking - she knew him better anyways. Ignore how you will be ignored and relish saying your goodbyes in your head as mom shakes Uncle Tim's hand.
Sit in the back row. Find out it's not really the back row at all but actually the break in the aisle where the procession marches through. Awkwardly bow your head as the whole family, priests and altar boys walk by you. Wonder who designed the stupid aisles, curse them and blush while trying to keep a mournful look.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Pride
Written: August 18th, 2011
When I was younger, my family always used me to rant at because I would just sit there and listen, offering very little in the way of advice or opinion. Due to the subject of the rants, my attitude served them just fine, and I was forced to endure endless hours of them talking about one another, as if I didn't see them all on a regular basis. Regardless of how I felt, I learned a lot about how they thought and processed - knowledge that I later used for easy manipulation of them when I was older. I'm not completely proud of how well I can manipulate the people around me, but it is a fact, nonetheless.
When I was younger, my family always used me to rant at because I would just sit there and listen, offering very little in the way of advice or opinion. Due to the subject of the rants, my attitude served them just fine, and I was forced to endure endless hours of them talking about one another, as if I didn't see them all on a regular basis. Regardless of how I felt, I learned a lot about how they thought and processed - knowledge that I later used for easy manipulation of them when I was older. I'm not completely proud of how well I can manipulate the people around me, but it is a fact, nonetheless.
 |
| Sad sad robot. |
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Tonight, tonight
Written August 15th, 2011
Today, I cried for the first time for what I have lost. It has been nearly three weeks since our mutual break-up, but it is tonight that my heart truly pains and my constitution wavers between running back with my tail between my legs or sticking to my decisions with a sorrowful pride. I fear I shal stay the latter, and hurt for it.
But so is life.
I cry for the best friend that will never be the same. For never having the same candid and frank discussions. For losing the bank of secrets, shared glances, inside jokes and honesty. For being alone to share my opinions and thoughts.
I cry for the lover that is no more. The shared nights we lay together, naked into the night. The small touches and courtesies we knew by habit. The way I could sense him, and he me. The sweet kisses and the passionate ones that would take my breath away every time. The way we knew each other's body so well; the way we were really one in two.
Today, I cried for the first time for what I have lost. It has been nearly three weeks since our mutual break-up, but it is tonight that my heart truly pains and my constitution wavers between running back with my tail between my legs or sticking to my decisions with a sorrowful pride. I fear I shal stay the latter, and hurt for it.
But so is life.
I cry for the best friend that will never be the same. For never having the same candid and frank discussions. For losing the bank of secrets, shared glances, inside jokes and honesty. For being alone to share my opinions and thoughts.
I cry for the lover that is no more. The shared nights we lay together, naked into the night. The small touches and courtesies we knew by habit. The way I could sense him, and he me. The sweet kisses and the passionate ones that would take my breath away every time. The way we knew each other's body so well; the way we were really one in two.
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