I know. A lot of posts in one day. Well, I just considered the next five or six days of my life, and I probably won't be near any wifi, so I'll just leave you for a feww days with some thoughts.
Rejection will always hurt to me. I'm getting better at handling this hurt -- but it tends to make me want to go into a shell.
I hardly ever learn.
I think I will always feel like I'm twelve years old.
The next few days I'll be at my Grandma's house. I will bring my books and my guitar and my sheet music. I hope it will be okay. I will bring tequila and beer. I will walk to sushi and the nursery where I will buy a pot so that I can try to steal some of the violets in my grandma's yard. They smell so sweet, and I can never find them anywhere else. I will read Moby Dick. I will help my mom go to the bathroom, and check her drainage tubes constantly for infection. I will field phone calls and rent DVDs -- maybe the first and second season of the Office, and some of the movies in the books that Joe gave me. Maybe I will write. I know when I see my mom all mummified, I will feel strangely numb, then later I will want to cry and feel so afraid.
So until I'm back. I'll try to have some great stuff on Moby Dick for when I return to the web.
Ta.
4 comments:
Who rejected you? I will kick his or her respective ass. That is if I ever go back to the gym. For some reason (I'll explain later) I decided to stop going and get fat. That lasted 4 days. I'm already fatter, but I did go back to the gym yesterday. I still feel like I'm twelve. I get my feelings hurt constantly and always feel rejected even by people who I am pretty sure love me. Its the price we pay for being all sensitive and empathetic and all those things I mock myself for being. But it is who we are. And you are a #1 Coolster so don't forget it babe. Good luck at Grandma's.
Well, thanks, Rodrigo. I need more Portuguesse t-shirts in my life.
Yeah, (I'll explain later) about the rejection.
You aren't fat, so you can't be fatter. Don't depress me and think you're fat. Because that means I'm...
Yes, to be a permanent emotional adolescent is both torturous and empowering. Maybe it has something to do with my dad calling me Brookie Cookie for 28 years. (and or Cookie, or Cook, or Snook)
Oh, and Blythee Cookie, you better not have office hours after your Lit class. We are going to need that couple of hours before Brandon's Bible class. (do you think he will dress as Jesus for the first day? Do it! Do it!)
I have a Jesus costume so...
And who doesn't feel twelve? I thought that was like the default psychological age of human beings. I remember feeling twelve when I was 7.
I want to believe that I feel 27, or even just 20. Alas, I feel twelve. To be precise, I feel 80 trapped in a twelve year old's world. Does that make sense? No? Yes?
Aw. Dressing as Jesus won't be as intimidating as that obnoxious celery you ate the first day of class in 103. I have a feeling Bible as Lit won't be as stuffy? Or are you just stuffy all the time for the first few meetings? I promise I'm going to be good in the class though. I mean, it is the Word, after all. I'm actually really excited for the class.
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