Finished.
Respect my privacy. Don’t use it for your own selfish needs. I’m moving on to the next. Sorry, I like to think about my needs too. What must be done, must be done.
Friday Sep 9 @ 10:13pmReveling.
I’m starting to love this little blog of mine.
I always end up valuing my side blogs more than my actual blog. It’s almost like my public blog has become commodified and objectified.
The 5AM sleepless in Syracuse syndrome has officially passed. I am back to Cali schedule, which means I like to sleep at midnight. Unfortunately, that is no bueno for me, as reading almost always is left undone.
Tuesday Sep 9 @ 08:59pmFrazzled…
…and ceaselessly annoyed.
Tuesday Sep 9 @ 01:55pmShort.
Finally some time to think and write…
It’s been tough. Since I’ve been here, it’s been nothing but strenuous. I’ve been helped several times during the past week, but sometimes, it’s not even that encouraging. I’m beginning to wonder maybe I am expecting too much now, which can be dangerous.
Saturday Sep 9 @ 05:26pm7 Hours.
I did not know I was capable of emotions. I always surprise myself everytime I part with someone and begin crying, because up until that moment that I feel tears, I can’t possibly imagine myself being all that sad.
But to cry for someone you thought you hated and thought meant nothing to you even if they were gone, really made me see the extent to which these individuals affect me.
Today, I spent seven hours in the hospital, watching my aunt die. Shrunken to a mere 87 pounds, yellow with jaundice, I could not contain myself during the last two minutes of my seven hours there. She held out both her arms and hugged me from her bed, and I couldn’t help but to make a frown, and have tears running down my cheeks like nothing. Out of nowhere. Completely unexpected.
This powerful woman in my family who tortured me silently was suddenly so helpless. When she saw me crying, she weakly told me to not to. Barely audible. As I stepped away, she made me come back to hand me tissues. I’ve never seen her look at me that way before.
She is going into a nursing home by Monday, as her treatments, chemo, IV, and procedures are both over and hopeless.
For 21 years, she haunted me. Every time I came back from college, I dreaded visiting her, watching as she tried her best to “culture” me. But today was my last day seeing her forever, and it was unbelievably disheartening.
Saturday Aug 8 @ 07:35pm
I think this is it. Now. Now is the prime of my life and I’m going to bask in it.
Malaise (Or, Rather, Stay Away From Me).
Let’s just say that I am not surprised by the crazy turn of events in my life this summer.
I am not at all surprised by my insanity, my morbidness, my negativity, and my ruthlessness. I know people have sensed it; it has been said to me, but I wonder if that’s how I really am, or if these past few months have made me this way.
I create malaise.
I will be going to the Long Beach hospital first thing tomorrow morning because my aunt is dying from cancer. Or should I say, the dangerous treatments that come with cancer. I would not be impressed if there was a funeral before I head back to school next week.
To be honest, I don’t have any nerve endings that lead to the inner most being of my heart. I am often unemotional (unless overwhelmed or angry). But my aunt, specifically, has caused me great harm. Not to me directly though. To my parents. To my parents because of me. Like it is my parents’ fault for raising such an American daughter. There is a huge generational gap between my aunt and me. She is basically my grandmother.
But I hate it when people call me unemotional. Call it “strong” instead. And don’t call me “unhappy.” Lately I have been thinking a lot about happiness and what it is. But I see it in my daily writing all the time. I write about it unconsciously.
Recently, someone I don’t know too well told me I sounded unhappy, unemotional (albeit, online). It made me upset, to be honest. About a month ago, I was linked to a blog of my friend’s girlfriend. She writes like a happy, positive person. I was so jealous of her radiance.
What will overwhelm me about this second, upcoming death this year is not my aunt, but my father, because it is his sister. His almost-mother.
We got a phone call from my brother (who has been taking her to the hospital) just as we parked the car to have dinner with another family. I was in awe watching my dad turn a horribly stricken face into fake laughter over this family talking about their stupid plans to backpack in Nepal for a month.
Oh boy, this looked overly familiar. It happened to me all summer, listening to friends talk about their excitements, petty worries and concerns, and other unimportant topics, while I thought about how my friend disappeared. Yes, compared to death, everything is petty and nonsensical. But, once again, I suppose it’s not their fault. Had they known something was wrong, they wouldn’t be talking about Nepal.
Alas, the time has not yet come to pass. So for now, I will relieve you of your malaise, caused by the one and only: me.
Friday Aug 8 @ 10:53pmLA Sucks.
Wow. Just came back from an off-broadway show in Hollywood. Show was good, the crowd sucked ass. I cannot believe how pretentious and freaking RUDE LA people are. I swear NYC aren’t as rude and if they are, they at least have an excuse for it. Not a good impression of LA for me. Though I’ve lived an hour from LA all my life, I still don’t know a thing about it, but all I know is that there is nothing glamourous about it unless you’re filthy rich and stay away from 3/4th of that huge city.
Too tired to go into detail. Maybe tomorrow. But tomorrow might bring in an interesting and uninteresting day. What the heck did I just say? Who knows.
Friday Aug 8 @ 01:48amGrave.
Oh God, there are so many things I want to say!
First, Jessie texted me today about school. Suddenly, I got really excited. I’ve never been so antsy to leave home before. Which is ironic because I’m actually partly terrified of this year, but also very confident.
Now that I’m getting into food politics (and maaaybe sustainability), I realized that college is really not enough time to know what you are capable of doing or what you’re interested in. It’s too late for me to pick up another major or minor. But there are so many things I want to study and learn.
Not interested in grad school. At least, not yet.
Despite unfortunate and necessary worries (or are they unnecessary??), I think I’m actually pretty ready to go back.
After keeping myself constantly moving and productive, I felt very disheveled and broken towards the end of the night. Very lonely. After a summer spent mostly away from home, experiencing illness, experiencing distrust, experiencing emotional pain, experiencing death, and experiencing unreliable friends, I just wished there was one person I could talk to from home. Everyone feels distant this year (though, they are indeed, literally distant). Am I just missing Joyce this much because she’s gone? That’s what my mom said to me tonight. How would she know. But sometimes I think it’s true. You never know what you have until it’s gone, and you always want what you can’t have. I’ve experienced this far too many times for me not to know the difference.
This blog is beginning to be a blog of lament for Joyce. This is simply my way of grieving, I suppose. My way of doing anything, for that matter. So if you are reading this, please bare with me.
Maybe that is why I have grown to become such an odd person this summer. Hardened, definitely. Indifferent to a lot of insignificant people in my life. How could anyone who loses their friend at the prime of their lives be normal again? How can they give the mundane, ignorant, and naive people— sometimes, and more often your very own friends— any leeway for being as whiny as they are? As immature? As irritating, frustrating, angering, just straight up ignorant? There is suddenly no room, no excuse for anyone to be anything but outstanding. Understanding. Empathetic. And if anyone defies “outstanding,” they’re really not worth my time.
This is how Joyce’s suicide changed me.
Sometimes even my own mother is the most frustrating, for being ignorant of my feelings. Can you imagine all my friends who never knew Joyce? I need to learn how to realize that it’s not their duty to truly care. But I can’t help it sometimes.
Yet, in light of the people in my life who do have significance to me, they help me go about my daily life, and I guess Joyce has taught me that sometimes, even that is a heavy burden: to live.
Thank you, my friends, for helping me live, and not just survive.
Thursday Aug 8 @ 01:44amStudy.
It’s almost 2am. Im on my phone in the dark listening to Wolftron songs. The old ones. I really studied his lyrics, and for the first time, i feel like i can understand this crazy, strange boy. The man who i couldnt understand for so long.
I wish we could have one whole day togeher. Id ask him so many things and we’d have so many interesting conversations.
Wednesday Aug 8 @ 01:46am