Sparked by a conversation with JJ, I've decided to write a little bit about my paternal grandmother. I believe I wrote to her for my letters project posts, but I thought that, since she's been on my mind, I'd take some time to blog about her.
Everyone generally considered my grandmother to be the person who single-handedly held our family together. I suppose this is true, when one examines the rifts in our relationships since her death. She was kind and generous, especially when it came to her grandchildren. She, like her sisters and husband, was a devout Catholic, and she took her Catholicism very seriously. I'm sure she was displeased that we were not being raised in the Catholic church, but, if she was, she never said anything that made us feel uncomfortable about it. She always made sure that we were cared for and had everything that we needed, from clothes to school supplies to snacks and toys.
I'm certain that she had her faults, like most people do, but I don't really remember them. I recall her fighting with my mother about various things over the years, but they never pulled us into their tiffs. I recall her vanity--she dyed her hair (roots, more or less, were the crux of the issue) black each week or two well past the age when flawless black would have been natural for her. She always had a signature hairstyle, and she wore signature scents as well--Imari by Avon for casual, Cinnabar by Estee Lauder for her special occasion scent. She always maintained her image by being polite to everyone, doing what was best and most socially acceptable. She was, as has gone by the wayside over the years, a true lady.
My grandmother was a lovely woman. She had a plethora of friends. She volunteered at her local nursing home. She loved her children and her husband. My grandmother gave me the lovely gift of many, many wonderful childhood memories. I may not have gotten much of her after she passed away, but I knew her and knowing her was a gift of its own.
One of the memories striking me with great force tonight is of when she was in the hospital, shortly before she died. My grandmother had been hospitalized for some time with Guillain-Barre Syndrome, and she died as a result of an embolism which migrated to her heart, which is a common complication of Guillain-Barre. Guillain-Barre has an element of paralysis to it, and since people who are paralyzed cannot use their extremities all that well, they are more likely to develop clots. Despite the blood thinners and exercises they were doing with her, she did develop a clot. The only positive thing that I can say about this is that we had seen her the day that she died, earlier that afternoon, and we had been able to tell her that we loved her. It was a minor blessing in the midst of a family tragedy.
Just before her death, I had gotten my first sort of punk notions about myself, and I had decided that it was totally imperative for me to have burgundy hair. My mother, after consulting a beautician friend of hers, reluctantly agreed, much to my father's later surprise. My father had declared that he liked it, but that he was sure that my grandmother, who was not so much a fan of odd colors of hair dye, would probably hate it. He assured me that I ought to prepare myself for a discussion of disapproval at the very least.
When we went to go see her, probably a day or so after my change of hair, I was nervous. When we walked in, she noticed my hair immediately. Much to the surprise of myself and my father, she declared that she loved my new hair style, and nothing negative was ever said about it. I remember the look on her face as she told me that she liked it, the light in her eyes. I think back to that day quite often, thinking of how her opinion on the matter could have made or broken the whole situation. Had she absolutely hated it, I'm sure I'd have been crushed.
As I am often wont to do, I think of her very much. I wonder what she would think of me as an adult, what she'd have thought of me at the worst of my teenage rebellion. Would my tattoos and piercings be met with chidings and scorn or would they have been as easily accepted as my burgundy hair was that afternoon in her hospital room? Would she approve of my major? Would I have waited so long to go back to school if she'd been around to advise me, guide me? Most of all, would she be proud of the woman that I've become or would she find me sassy and uncouth? Would she appreciate my honesty and candor or would she consider me impolite and assuming?
As I age, I try to honor my grandmother's memory in small ways, the ways that I can manage. Though I will never be as patient or as kind as she was, I do try to at least emulate some of her behaviors. She used to make Kifli, a Germanic/Polish/Hungarian pastry, every year for Christmas, even giving some as gifts to people (such as priests at her church and whatnot). I have attempted to take over her role as the family Kifli-maker. This year is the first year since I've mastered the art that we simply haven't had the money to buy the ingredients to make them--these are not a cheap pastry, I have discovered. Even dying my hair black now is done with a nod of deference to her, though I do occasionally add streaks of colors that she might have liked much less. It makes me think of her and how she always wanted to be perfectly coiffed.
My grandmother played a huge role in shaping who I have become. She continues to shape me to this day. Even though it gets harder to remember her, harder to remember the small details, there will always be important memories that stick out to me. She will always be the woman who taught me how to make Kifli in her kitchen during the chill of December, the woman who let me play in her jewelry boxes when I was just a little girl, the woman who made her basement and patio two of my most favored locations as a child. She will always be the woman who went out of her way at all times to make sure that my brothers and I felt absolutely, totally, and completely loved. There is not a single thing in this whole world, not even death, that could ever take that away from us.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
The Year in Review: 2010
I thought I might do a recap of my year, being that I've had some rough stuff going on. I know that my last post noted that it's too little, too late for a recap, but I thought I'd say to hell with convention and go for it anyways.
First, let's note the negatives that happened to me in 2010:
Maybe, in 2011, I'll figure out how to write something that doesn't suck.
First, let's note the negatives that happened to me in 2010:
- My car got totaled by a crazy driver who rear-ended me, from whom I still have not gotten a settlement.
- My husband and I split locations to figure ourselves out. (To be as clear as possible, we haven't given up on each other yet. We're trying to negotiate our neuroses well enough to function as a couple.)
- I discovered I hated my major, which I'd been worked on for the last two, almost three, years.
- My friend, AW, decided he didn't really want to be friends with me anymore.
- I struggled with alcohol, which I never thought would happen.
- I had a roommate issue and had to change dorms, much to my chagrin.
- My husband and I had fantastic date nights.
- My husband graduated from college, the first in his family to do so.
- I successfully completed a 30 day letters project.
- My favorite musician tweeted at me.
- I've found some sobriety (fledgling though it may be) and had some interesting revelations and moments of clarity.
Maybe, in 2011, I'll figure out how to write something that doesn't suck.
Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot
I keep meaning to blog more often, but I feel like I don't have nearly enough to say on the regular to make any of those blogs actually worth reading. I meant to write a recap of my year, but the time slipped by me. It seems too little, too late on that front now. Alas! Woe! I fail at creativity! Instead, I shall spout generic updates.
First, my New Year was rung in fairly quietly. My friend, Ellen, came to get me and we spent a lovely evening chilling out. We went to a Chinese buffet, and then, we went back to her house to watch a movie. We watched Valentine's Day, which was good, if a little formulaic. We watched the ball drop on television, finished our movie, and then talked for a while. My night was fun and sober, so I have been keeping to my goals so far. Hopefully, this is indicative of the kind of year that this will be.
On the first, my dad and I made the drive over to Indiana--after several notable snafus--and spent the weekend in Indiana. I wanted to do so many things while I was there, but spending time with JJ was most important. We had dinner with his mother, went to a Chinese buffet with his father, went to lunch with our mutual friend Angie, and spend plenty of time just cuddling and watching movies.
It's interesting how much a person can enjoy cuddling when they haven't had the opportunity to cuddle for a while. You almost forget how nice it is to fit in someone else's arms. Notably, I have also missed having an opportunity to spend a weekend lounging in bed with JJ. It's been quite some time since I've had occasion to lounge in bed with someone other than just myself, but lounging in bed is especially appealing when another person is there to talk to, laugh with, and enjoy. It's even better when you can watch fantastic 80s movies like Night of the Comet, which was one of my favorite movies when I was growing up.
I also had a chance while in Indiana to go to dinner with my aunt, Maria. It was nice to get an evening with a supportive female who shares a portion of my genetic code. Sometimes, I forget what it's like to have female family members support me--which is more of a tale for a tell-all memoir than it is for a blog. My point is that it was nice to have some female bonding time. I realize that I have plenty of friends to bond with, but it's different when the female is a relative. There's a different energy there, a different kind of bond.
Mostly, I'm just glad that my life is more or less on track and that I had a good weekend. It was nice to get away from things for a while, spend a few days just relaxing. It was also nice to hear someone tell me that I have a healthy attitude and mindset. Sometimes, I tend to get a little too wrapped up in my negative qualities, and it's nice to hear that other people think that I have positive qualities. Above all, it was great to spend some time with JJ that was free of fights and drama. This was a very needed weekend for us, and I'm glad that we got to have it. Hopefully, things will stay on a positive trend for us.
2011, please be a better year than 2010!
First, my New Year was rung in fairly quietly. My friend, Ellen, came to get me and we spent a lovely evening chilling out. We went to a Chinese buffet, and then, we went back to her house to watch a movie. We watched Valentine's Day, which was good, if a little formulaic. We watched the ball drop on television, finished our movie, and then talked for a while. My night was fun and sober, so I have been keeping to my goals so far. Hopefully, this is indicative of the kind of year that this will be.
On the first, my dad and I made the drive over to Indiana--after several notable snafus--and spent the weekend in Indiana. I wanted to do so many things while I was there, but spending time with JJ was most important. We had dinner with his mother, went to a Chinese buffet with his father, went to lunch with our mutual friend Angie, and spend plenty of time just cuddling and watching movies.
It's interesting how much a person can enjoy cuddling when they haven't had the opportunity to cuddle for a while. You almost forget how nice it is to fit in someone else's arms. Notably, I have also missed having an opportunity to spend a weekend lounging in bed with JJ. It's been quite some time since I've had occasion to lounge in bed with someone other than just myself, but lounging in bed is especially appealing when another person is there to talk to, laugh with, and enjoy. It's even better when you can watch fantastic 80s movies like Night of the Comet, which was one of my favorite movies when I was growing up.
I also had a chance while in Indiana to go to dinner with my aunt, Maria. It was nice to get an evening with a supportive female who shares a portion of my genetic code. Sometimes, I forget what it's like to have female family members support me--which is more of a tale for a tell-all memoir than it is for a blog. My point is that it was nice to have some female bonding time. I realize that I have plenty of friends to bond with, but it's different when the female is a relative. There's a different energy there, a different kind of bond.
Mostly, I'm just glad that my life is more or less on track and that I had a good weekend. It was nice to get away from things for a while, spend a few days just relaxing. It was also nice to hear someone tell me that I have a healthy attitude and mindset. Sometimes, I tend to get a little too wrapped up in my negative qualities, and it's nice to hear that other people think that I have positive qualities. Above all, it was great to spend some time with JJ that was free of fights and drama. This was a very needed weekend for us, and I'm glad that we got to have it. Hopefully, things will stay on a positive trend for us.
2011, please be a better year than 2010!
Monday, December 27, 2010
Books, Challenges, and Fears
Being that I'm having an awful time attempting to focus on the book I'm half-heartedly reading, I thought it might be a good time to get some blogging out of my system. This break, I've been trying to read as much as possible, since the crux of my reading material during my semesters revolves around class work. I'm on my third book in the last two weeks, all of them by Nora Roberts. It's not exactly brain food, but I like to read simple, quick books when I'm on break. I enjoy reading for pleasure, but it's really not possible while I'm trying to read for assignments as well. (It might have been more possible for me last semester, but that's got more to do with the classes I ended up dropping, really.)
This semester is going to be a bit of a change for me. I might actually have more time to read because I'll be doing precious little partying, which will be a very big changed compared to last semester. (While other people are grinding drunkenly, I'll be laying on my uncomfortable twin bed and getting closer to Dickens, Bronte [any of the Bronte sisters, really], or some other fascinating author.) So far, I'm sticking very well to sobriety. I have two weeks and two days sober, which I'm pleased about. New Year's Eve might be a bit of a challenge, but I'm thinking about staying home, despite some very tempting party invitations. It might be in my best interest to spend New Year's Eve with some old movies, books, and tea. In fact, that's what I'm very much prepared to do.
Anyways, this next semester will be a challenge for some very personal reasons. One, I'm very new to this sobriety idea, and I'll be very tempted to stray from it. Two, one of my very close friends is struggling with an eating disorder. While I want to beat her about the head and neck for not seeking the help that she very well knows that she needs, I also desperately want to help her find happiness and health. I've been thinking about her all break, worrying over what she's going through on her own right now. I also know that it will be harder for me to maintain my sobriety and composure in the presence of people who haven't got all their control themselves. Dorms, young people (and their natural tendency to drink), and friends with their own struggles could be the perfect storm of pressure that's enough to set me back.
I'm worried. I'm worried that I won't be able to help my friend, and she'll make herself more ill. I'm worried that the dorms will be too much for me to handle and that I might have to move back home or find a new place to live. I'm worried about slipping. I'm worried that people will think of me differently when I'm sober and might like me less--which is entirely conceivable, but not as plausible as one might think. I'm actually more sensitive to other people when I'm sober; when I'm drunk, I'll say whatever comes to my head, regardless of whether it might hurt feelings or spill secrets. There are also more worries on my mind, but it would be impossible to reveal them here without revealing the identity of the friend who has trusted me with her secrets, which would be entirely unfair to her. The point of the whole thing, really, is that there are a lot of fears for me to face this Spring.
Basically, it's time for me to gird my loins. Time to put on the big girl panties and learn how to deal. I'm not thrilled at the prospects ahead of me, but I've faced tougher times than this in my life. I know I can make it through. I might just need some periodic moments to bitch about how afraid I am of failure. But then, I'm a perfectionist. Sometimes, I need to check and make sure that my standards are within normal parameters and not Jessica parameters. Is there some unit of measure for these things? Can someone just get me a guidebook for this life or something? Please?
This semester is going to be a bit of a change for me. I might actually have more time to read because I'll be doing precious little partying, which will be a very big changed compared to last semester. (While other people are grinding drunkenly, I'll be laying on my uncomfortable twin bed and getting closer to Dickens, Bronte [any of the Bronte sisters, really], or some other fascinating author.) So far, I'm sticking very well to sobriety. I have two weeks and two days sober, which I'm pleased about. New Year's Eve might be a bit of a challenge, but I'm thinking about staying home, despite some very tempting party invitations. It might be in my best interest to spend New Year's Eve with some old movies, books, and tea. In fact, that's what I'm very much prepared to do.
Anyways, this next semester will be a challenge for some very personal reasons. One, I'm very new to this sobriety idea, and I'll be very tempted to stray from it. Two, one of my very close friends is struggling with an eating disorder. While I want to beat her about the head and neck for not seeking the help that she very well knows that she needs, I also desperately want to help her find happiness and health. I've been thinking about her all break, worrying over what she's going through on her own right now. I also know that it will be harder for me to maintain my sobriety and composure in the presence of people who haven't got all their control themselves. Dorms, young people (and their natural tendency to drink), and friends with their own struggles could be the perfect storm of pressure that's enough to set me back.
I'm worried. I'm worried that I won't be able to help my friend, and she'll make herself more ill. I'm worried that the dorms will be too much for me to handle and that I might have to move back home or find a new place to live. I'm worried about slipping. I'm worried that people will think of me differently when I'm sober and might like me less--which is entirely conceivable, but not as plausible as one might think. I'm actually more sensitive to other people when I'm sober; when I'm drunk, I'll say whatever comes to my head, regardless of whether it might hurt feelings or spill secrets. There are also more worries on my mind, but it would be impossible to reveal them here without revealing the identity of the friend who has trusted me with her secrets, which would be entirely unfair to her. The point of the whole thing, really, is that there are a lot of fears for me to face this Spring.
Basically, it's time for me to gird my loins. Time to put on the big girl panties and learn how to deal. I'm not thrilled at the prospects ahead of me, but I've faced tougher times than this in my life. I know I can make it through. I might just need some periodic moments to bitch about how afraid I am of failure. But then, I'm a perfectionist. Sometimes, I need to check and make sure that my standards are within normal parameters and not Jessica parameters. Is there some unit of measure for these things? Can someone just get me a guidebook for this life or something? Please?
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Do I Know It's Christmas?
Lately, my brother Joel and I have been pondering over the fact that this year just doesn't really feel like Christmas at all. Maybe we're some of the minority who actually feel that way, but it's just a feeling that I've been having this holiday season. It's been a very difficult year. Maybe these lacking holiday feelings are a side effect.
First, I guess I should say that Christmas this year is marred by the fact that no one in our family really has any kind of money. In my defense, holiday spirit is not measured in gifts at all, but Christmas just doesn't feel the same without some kind of little gift exchange. This is also the first year since I learned to make them that I haven't made Kiflis for our family--which is something that I proudly considered my job and a nod to my grandmother who passed away since she taught me about them. We haven't been watching any holiday movies (our usual movies are Scrooged and A Muppet Christmas Carol). We did put up the tree, but my mother insists on including these God awful little LED ice cube shaped lights, which make the whole damned thing just look hideous and kitschy.
I suppose rather than dwelling on the negative parts of our so-called holiday season, it would be a good idea for me to count my blessings. Rather than bitch about the things that are wrong with this season, let's enumerate the things that are right.
First, we have a home to live in and warm beds in which to sleep. Second, I have hopes to achieve a good education and have an excellent future. Third, I have living relatives who care for me very much. I have more friends that I can consider true friends than I've ever had before in my life. My roommate is fantastic. I have a sound mind and a functioning body. I have hope and potential to have so much more. Lastly, and most importantly, there are people out there who, for whatever reason, really love me. What's more important than that?
I'm going to try to stick with the blessed and hopeful theme, rather than feel bad for myself for the next few days. Tomorrow, I'll accompany my father to the store, we'll purchase items for Christmas dinner, and we'll come home. Perhaps, as a treat for all of us, I'll make cookies or a cake or something. It will give me something to do, something celebratory, and all of us something to look forward to. Plus, it would be nice to be able to give a little something to my family, even if it's as fleeting as dessert.
Just in case I don't have time to blog over the next few days, I'd like to wish all my sparse readers a Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Count your blessings.
First, I guess I should say that Christmas this year is marred by the fact that no one in our family really has any kind of money. In my defense, holiday spirit is not measured in gifts at all, but Christmas just doesn't feel the same without some kind of little gift exchange. This is also the first year since I learned to make them that I haven't made Kiflis for our family--which is something that I proudly considered my job and a nod to my grandmother who passed away since she taught me about them. We haven't been watching any holiday movies (our usual movies are Scrooged and A Muppet Christmas Carol). We did put up the tree, but my mother insists on including these God awful little LED ice cube shaped lights, which make the whole damned thing just look hideous and kitschy.
I suppose rather than dwelling on the negative parts of our so-called holiday season, it would be a good idea for me to count my blessings. Rather than bitch about the things that are wrong with this season, let's enumerate the things that are right.
First, we have a home to live in and warm beds in which to sleep. Second, I have hopes to achieve a good education and have an excellent future. Third, I have living relatives who care for me very much. I have more friends that I can consider true friends than I've ever had before in my life. My roommate is fantastic. I have a sound mind and a functioning body. I have hope and potential to have so much more. Lastly, and most importantly, there are people out there who, for whatever reason, really love me. What's more important than that?
I'm going to try to stick with the blessed and hopeful theme, rather than feel bad for myself for the next few days. Tomorrow, I'll accompany my father to the store, we'll purchase items for Christmas dinner, and we'll come home. Perhaps, as a treat for all of us, I'll make cookies or a cake or something. It will give me something to do, something celebratory, and all of us something to look forward to. Plus, it would be nice to be able to give a little something to my family, even if it's as fleeting as dessert.
Just in case I don't have time to blog over the next few days, I'd like to wish all my sparse readers a Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Count your blessings.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Writing the Future
I've been thinking a lot lately about my writing. I guess I'm trying to figure out what it is that I'd like to continue to do with my English degree. Let's face it, I'll probably never be lucky enough to have the Julie Powell-type serendipity of having someone want to actually do something with my blog. I'm not going to get a book deal based on my boring life. I'm going to have to figure out how it is that adults write things in the real world and manage to trade it for some type of money. Making money, obviously, has never been my forte.
In all, I wouldn't mind teaching. I love to teach. If there was one thing that Owens taught me about myself, other than the fact that I can manage to get decent grades when I put in the time and effort, it would be how much I enjoy helping other people to find their "Aha!" moments. I love that moment where a person actually understands a concept, and they understand it because of the way that you explained it to them. I know that I could be happy as a teacher, but I'd really love to get a doctorate and teach at the college level. I'd like to tackle hard concepts with my students.
Here's the rub: when I was a kid, I always had this fantasy that I'd be a great writer. I'd have a best-seller. It wouldn't be cookie-cutter tripe, either. It would be a deep, meaningful, moving novel, rife with symbolism and hailed by the critics as a brilliant piece of Literature--literature, that is, with a capital L. I'm actually closer than ever to having that silly dream come true. Well, alright, parts of that dream anyways. I don't think I'm the next Salman Rushdie. I'm not shooting for Dickensian talent, but it would be nice to be able to write something that wasn't completely foolish or crappy. I don't know if I'm ready to give up on the idea that I could be a writer yet.
Permit me a moment of sibling rivalry here as well: my twin, marathon man that he is (graduated from Purdue with a degree in mechanical engineering, and was ridiculously close to having a double major in applied computational mathematics), also writes. He contributes to a Purdue-related sports blog, and he makes money off of it. His writing, which I had always thought was my domain, is fluid and cohesive. Considering familial achievements, I'm behind. But then, I was behind before I even started to consider this because my twin has been in college since 2004, whereas I didn't go back to school until 2008. (Yes, that's right, I fail at an abundance of things! It's not just writing!) Like I needed one more reason to be slightly jealous of my brilliant twin. The upside is that I can be very proud (and please don't doubt that I am completely proud of his talent and achievements) that he's a good writer.
I have time to figure it all out, of course. I have to get a basic degree before I can get a higher one. It's just been something that I've been thinking about. The future has been weighing heavily on my mind lately. I have a lot of decisions to make and courses of action to ponder.
In all, I wouldn't mind teaching. I love to teach. If there was one thing that Owens taught me about myself, other than the fact that I can manage to get decent grades when I put in the time and effort, it would be how much I enjoy helping other people to find their "Aha!" moments. I love that moment where a person actually understands a concept, and they understand it because of the way that you explained it to them. I know that I could be happy as a teacher, but I'd really love to get a doctorate and teach at the college level. I'd like to tackle hard concepts with my students.
Here's the rub: when I was a kid, I always had this fantasy that I'd be a great writer. I'd have a best-seller. It wouldn't be cookie-cutter tripe, either. It would be a deep, meaningful, moving novel, rife with symbolism and hailed by the critics as a brilliant piece of Literature--literature, that is, with a capital L. I'm actually closer than ever to having that silly dream come true. Well, alright, parts of that dream anyways. I don't think I'm the next Salman Rushdie. I'm not shooting for Dickensian talent, but it would be nice to be able to write something that wasn't completely foolish or crappy. I don't know if I'm ready to give up on the idea that I could be a writer yet.
Permit me a moment of sibling rivalry here as well: my twin, marathon man that he is (graduated from Purdue with a degree in mechanical engineering, and was ridiculously close to having a double major in applied computational mathematics), also writes. He contributes to a Purdue-related sports blog, and he makes money off of it. His writing, which I had always thought was my domain, is fluid and cohesive. Considering familial achievements, I'm behind. But then, I was behind before I even started to consider this because my twin has been in college since 2004, whereas I didn't go back to school until 2008. (Yes, that's right, I fail at an abundance of things! It's not just writing!) Like I needed one more reason to be slightly jealous of my brilliant twin. The upside is that I can be very proud (and please don't doubt that I am completely proud of his talent and achievements) that he's a good writer.
I have time to figure it all out, of course. I have to get a basic degree before I can get a higher one. It's just been something that I've been thinking about. The future has been weighing heavily on my mind lately. I have a lot of decisions to make and courses of action to ponder.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Family and Reunions
This weekend, my brother and his girlfriend, Jill, stopped in to stay with us for a few days on the way to Jill's house in Boston. My twin brother, as it happens, will be spending the Christmas holidays with the lovely Jill and her parents. They'll also come back through and stay with us for another few days on their way back to Lafayette, Indiana, but my dad and I will be in South Bend, so I won't get to spend a whole lot of time with them.
It's an interesting relationship that my twin and I have with each other. We used to be very close. Then, during our teenage years--probably due to the fact that I was a teenage girl, which automatically makes everything horrible--we grew apart. Lately, we've been much closer, and it's been a very comfortable friendship. I suppose you don't really appreciate your siblings until you don't see them all the time anymore.
We've spent the weekends talking about various things, playing video games together, enjoying family meals, and doing plenty of laughing. I like Jill very much, and I can tell that my brother has a very deep affection for her. It's nice to see him in a comfortable relationship, and I'm very happy for the both of them. I'm also glad that Jill and I have so much in common. We're both English majors, both interested in the same television and mostly the same books. We share some common opinions, and we have a very similar sense of humor. She's witty, which I guess she'd have to be to keep up with my brother's sassy comments. In short, I'd enjoy spending more time with both of them.
It's just been very nice to have my family together again, even if only for a few days. You don't really realize how much you can like each other when you have to spend all your time living with together. When you've all gone your separate ways, you have time to miss each other. You get time to reflect on the things that you liked about them, about all the ways that they made you laugh and smile. Our family is very much a family that loves to laugh together. It's nice to share intelligent conversation and laugh together again. I suppose I hadn't realized how very much I missed it until now.
In other news, my friend Mandy called me today to catch up. We spent some time reminiscing about the halcyon days of youth, and it got me thinking back to my high school days. I found myself thinking about people that we used to hang out with, relationships that happened--or almost happened, as the case may be. I sort of wish that we could all have our own reunion between friends, just to catch up. It would be nice to spend an evening talking about how we used to feel about each other, what we're doing now, and who we've all become. But then, I crave poetry in life, even among people and relationships. (I suppose I should preface that more by saying that I crave more poetry in life which does not begin, "There once was a man from Nantucket...")
Everything was so complicated, but even then, it was so simple. When you get older, not even much older, things get harder. Relationships must be considered--not just romantic ones, but also ones between family and friends--and they come and go. Jobs and opportunities come your way and force you sacrifice things. Your priorities change. Sometimes, you think about family and the future. Money is obtained, lost, needed and valued differently. Unexpected things happen.
I don't think that high-school-me would have expected me to be where I am now. I don't think high-school-me would be disappointed or anything, so don't misinterpret me. I simply think that, when I thought about my life back then, this isn't what I saw for myself. I suppose, however, that it would have been hard to see myself now from the limited perspective that I had back then.
Don't get me wrong, either. I am often surprised at how well I have turned out considering many things. I am fairly intelligent. I am capable and independent. I have no qualms with standing up for myself or others. I am much more wise than I ever thought I would be at any age, let alone in my twenties. I still have to work on my patience, but I'm making great strides in many other categories, all things considered. I could be doing much, much worse. Perhaps my life will keep moving forward in interesting ways, and I will continue to become more than I thought I would be. We can only hope so, right?
It's an interesting relationship that my twin and I have with each other. We used to be very close. Then, during our teenage years--probably due to the fact that I was a teenage girl, which automatically makes everything horrible--we grew apart. Lately, we've been much closer, and it's been a very comfortable friendship. I suppose you don't really appreciate your siblings until you don't see them all the time anymore.
We've spent the weekends talking about various things, playing video games together, enjoying family meals, and doing plenty of laughing. I like Jill very much, and I can tell that my brother has a very deep affection for her. It's nice to see him in a comfortable relationship, and I'm very happy for the both of them. I'm also glad that Jill and I have so much in common. We're both English majors, both interested in the same television and mostly the same books. We share some common opinions, and we have a very similar sense of humor. She's witty, which I guess she'd have to be to keep up with my brother's sassy comments. In short, I'd enjoy spending more time with both of them.
It's just been very nice to have my family together again, even if only for a few days. You don't really realize how much you can like each other when you have to spend all your time living with together. When you've all gone your separate ways, you have time to miss each other. You get time to reflect on the things that you liked about them, about all the ways that they made you laugh and smile. Our family is very much a family that loves to laugh together. It's nice to share intelligent conversation and laugh together again. I suppose I hadn't realized how very much I missed it until now.
In other news, my friend Mandy called me today to catch up. We spent some time reminiscing about the halcyon days of youth, and it got me thinking back to my high school days. I found myself thinking about people that we used to hang out with, relationships that happened--or almost happened, as the case may be. I sort of wish that we could all have our own reunion between friends, just to catch up. It would be nice to spend an evening talking about how we used to feel about each other, what we're doing now, and who we've all become. But then, I crave poetry in life, even among people and relationships. (I suppose I should preface that more by saying that I crave more poetry in life which does not begin, "There once was a man from Nantucket...")
Everything was so complicated, but even then, it was so simple. When you get older, not even much older, things get harder. Relationships must be considered--not just romantic ones, but also ones between family and friends--and they come and go. Jobs and opportunities come your way and force you sacrifice things. Your priorities change. Sometimes, you think about family and the future. Money is obtained, lost, needed and valued differently. Unexpected things happen.
I don't think that high-school-me would have expected me to be where I am now. I don't think high-school-me would be disappointed or anything, so don't misinterpret me. I simply think that, when I thought about my life back then, this isn't what I saw for myself. I suppose, however, that it would have been hard to see myself now from the limited perspective that I had back then.
Don't get me wrong, either. I am often surprised at how well I have turned out considering many things. I am fairly intelligent. I am capable and independent. I have no qualms with standing up for myself or others. I am much more wise than I ever thought I would be at any age, let alone in my twenties. I still have to work on my patience, but I'm making great strides in many other categories, all things considered. I could be doing much, much worse. Perhaps my life will keep moving forward in interesting ways, and I will continue to become more than I thought I would be. We can only hope so, right?
Friday, December 17, 2010
Desires and Grades
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the things that I'd like to do in the future. Not necessarily resolutions, but things that I would like to accomplish next year (or even in what little remains of this one). These are things that I'd like to do for myself, for one reason or another. In no particular order, they are as follows:
Perhaps it's childish, but lately I've been plagued by all the things that I want that I don't have. I'm so tired of having nothing, of working my butt off to have nothing to show for it. Being poor is hellish. I realize this is the same old song and dance that I've offered up on numerous occasions, but it's still an issue for me.
As a twist to the positive side of things, I did get my grades back for the semester. I managed to get A's in the classes which I did not withdraw from, allowing me to keep my 4.0 GPA. I've breathed a sigh of relief, of course, because I was pretty worried about my nutrition grade. It wasn't a difficult class, but our professor was from Mars. On the upside, I got my grade, so I don't need to worry about it anymore. I can just decompress for the break and worry about my next semester. (Have I mentioned that I'm a worrier? It's kind of a theme for me.) Hopefully, I can pull it off a second time at Lourdes and keep things in motion for myself.
I just don't want to look back at my college days and say that I didn't do the best that I could possibly do. If I'm going to be in debt for, essentially, the better part of my life, I might as well make it worth it. I suppose I equate that with a high GPA, but it could be worse. At least I'm not wasting my time or my money.
At any rate, these "goals"--if one should be so inclined to call them that--will be worked on!
- Fix my roots and dye my hair again. While I did like the pink, I'd like to have a blue streak this time. Also, while I enjoyed the brown-based black we picked out, I'd rather have a blue-black for my hair this time. It looks better in the long run, I think.
- Get my nose pierced. I've wanted this done for a long time, and I think it's one of the few facial piercings that one can get away with in the work world. Also, it's very feminine if one wears it right.
- Get a tattoo on my wrist. For the last year or so, I've wanted a small tattoo on my wrist--small enough that it could be covered by a watch band--reading "Let It Be." This is not only because I've found a great deal of comfort in the Beatles song of the same name, but also because I really feel like it could function as a helpful personal reminder. I could really use one of those right now.
- See Marianas Trench in concert. This process is already begun, as I've purchased tickets for their February show in Columbus. Needless to say because of the incessant mentions, I'm excited.
- Write something of value. Short story, essay, poem, I don't really care. Lately, my writing has been stagnating. This is not a great thing for a girl that's just switched to an English major. Just sayin'.
- Get a vehicle. Of course, this is contingent on a job, a settlement, or both, but I really need to have a car again. I can't stand being dependent on the kindness of others for things I ought to be handling for myself at my age.
- Get a job. This is already in the works as well because I've spoken to an individual at my college about tutoring, and she was very excited to see my interest. I'm excited about the prospect of a paycheck.
- Make my apartment slightly homier, even if we will be leaving it eventually. I'd like to be able to walk in and feel like I'm home, even despite the impersonal faux leather furniture and crappy single beds. I need to add some personal touches to make it less of a pit and more pleasing to me.
- Get back into crocheting and knitting. Busy hands for a busier mind.
Perhaps it's childish, but lately I've been plagued by all the things that I want that I don't have. I'm so tired of having nothing, of working my butt off to have nothing to show for it. Being poor is hellish. I realize this is the same old song and dance that I've offered up on numerous occasions, but it's still an issue for me.
As a twist to the positive side of things, I did get my grades back for the semester. I managed to get A's in the classes which I did not withdraw from, allowing me to keep my 4.0 GPA. I've breathed a sigh of relief, of course, because I was pretty worried about my nutrition grade. It wasn't a difficult class, but our professor was from Mars. On the upside, I got my grade, so I don't need to worry about it anymore. I can just decompress for the break and worry about my next semester. (Have I mentioned that I'm a worrier? It's kind of a theme for me.) Hopefully, I can pull it off a second time at Lourdes and keep things in motion for myself.
I just don't want to look back at my college days and say that I didn't do the best that I could possibly do. If I'm going to be in debt for, essentially, the better part of my life, I might as well make it worth it. I suppose I equate that with a high GPA, but it could be worse. At least I'm not wasting my time or my money.
At any rate, these "goals"--if one should be so inclined to call them that--will be worked on!
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Day Four!
So, I've been four (technically, we're on to the fifth day now, but who's counting?) days sober. It's unusual to be committed to something for a change. Being that I'm the kind of person who usually puts too many eggs in one basket, I've decided to only quit one thing at a time here. So, you know, the meth and heroin stay...
KIDDING! Totally kidding! Since I don't do any other substances worth quitting except smoking, sorry, kids, the smoking stays. Everyone I've talked to has been freakily supportive. It makes me wonder if I had a bigger problem than I had initially thought. Thus far, however, I'm handling things very well. Minimal cravings to stray from the path of so-called righteousness. It probably helps that I'm at home for the next month or so.
For a Catholic college, our dorms are rife with underage drinking. Now, first, let me mention that our campus is not a dry campus. We are permitted to have alcohol, but only certain kinds and in certain amounts. This has in no way stopped any of my so-called peers from drinking in excess each weekend. (Don't get me wrong here. In no way am I insinuating that I am any better than any of them. This is clearly not the case.) I'm just really surprised that there's no real reprimand for any of the students who are caught drinking underage.
Anyways, it's best that I'm home right now. It gives me time to focus my thoughts on the ability to refuse alcohol. It gives me some time to kind of chill, steel myself for when there will be people around me drinking. I need to be able to handle myself in these situations. I'm confident that I can, I just need some time to get my head straight again.
Amusingly enough, I had a moment earlier when I was watching DVRed episodes of Celebrity Rehab. One of the women on the show, Rachel, is talking to Dr. Drew about feeling ridiculous for having a love addiction and about how she's afraid that, if she mentions it in group, that her peers will laugh her out of the room. With a bemused smile, Dr. Drew tells her that he's certain that no one will judge her for not being "enough of an addict." In my last entry, I mentioned that I was incredulous about joining any kind of support groups for the same reason--not being enough of an addict. Thanks, Universe, message received. Loud and clear, in fact.
I did have a strange moment of pride today, as well. When I was in the bathroom, I happened to be singing to myself. Of course, because I'm terribly vain and have to have those times when I just embrace my rock star moments, I was looking at myself in the mirror. Lately, my roommate, father, and brother have agreed that it looks like I've lost a little weight. I had dismissed it as nothing, but looking in the mirror today I realized--hey!--I have lost a little weight! Or, at the very least, my fat has redistributed itself to be slightly more pleasing to the eye.
Needless to say, I am thrilled that I have not one but two good things to report today: potential weight loss and additional days of sobriety. Hopefully, by the Marianas Trench concert in Columbus on February 26th (which, by the way, I totally already bought two tickets for) I'll be able to say that I've been sober for two and a half months. Nothing would thrill me more than to go to that concert with that kind of accomplishment.
KIDDING! Totally kidding! Since I don't do any other substances worth quitting except smoking, sorry, kids, the smoking stays. Everyone I've talked to has been freakily supportive. It makes me wonder if I had a bigger problem than I had initially thought. Thus far, however, I'm handling things very well. Minimal cravings to stray from the path of so-called righteousness. It probably helps that I'm at home for the next month or so.
For a Catholic college, our dorms are rife with underage drinking. Now, first, let me mention that our campus is not a dry campus. We are permitted to have alcohol, but only certain kinds and in certain amounts. This has in no way stopped any of my so-called peers from drinking in excess each weekend. (Don't get me wrong here. In no way am I insinuating that I am any better than any of them. This is clearly not the case.) I'm just really surprised that there's no real reprimand for any of the students who are caught drinking underage.
Anyways, it's best that I'm home right now. It gives me time to focus my thoughts on the ability to refuse alcohol. It gives me some time to kind of chill, steel myself for when there will be people around me drinking. I need to be able to handle myself in these situations. I'm confident that I can, I just need some time to get my head straight again.
Amusingly enough, I had a moment earlier when I was watching DVRed episodes of Celebrity Rehab. One of the women on the show, Rachel, is talking to Dr. Drew about feeling ridiculous for having a love addiction and about how she's afraid that, if she mentions it in group, that her peers will laugh her out of the room. With a bemused smile, Dr. Drew tells her that he's certain that no one will judge her for not being "enough of an addict." In my last entry, I mentioned that I was incredulous about joining any kind of support groups for the same reason--not being enough of an addict. Thanks, Universe, message received. Loud and clear, in fact.
I did have a strange moment of pride today, as well. When I was in the bathroom, I happened to be singing to myself. Of course, because I'm terribly vain and have to have those times when I just embrace my rock star moments, I was looking at myself in the mirror. Lately, my roommate, father, and brother have agreed that it looks like I've lost a little weight. I had dismissed it as nothing, but looking in the mirror today I realized--hey!--I have lost a little weight! Or, at the very least, my fat has redistributed itself to be slightly more pleasing to the eye.
Needless to say, I am thrilled that I have not one but two good things to report today: potential weight loss and additional days of sobriety. Hopefully, by the Marianas Trench concert in Columbus on February 26th (which, by the way, I totally already bought two tickets for) I'll be able to say that I've been sober for two and a half months. Nothing would thrill me more than to go to that concert with that kind of accomplishment.
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