Christmas Day

The house is quiet and I am up alone. Like many Christmases of childhood past, I am up early, too anxious to stay asleep.

My thoughts drift to my family. Ed. The only one who will wake up in my mom’s house this morning. He will have to be there for all of us, opening stocking presents, delight in our traditional candies, smile happily at all the presents and watch as our mom pretends to like our gift. She never likes our gift, that is a tradition too.

My sister is at home with her family. My nephews up early, like me, excited because Santa came again with more presents than they ever thought possible. They will laugh and scream with delight, tearing off paper, discovering the exact thing they’ve always wanted. My sister will sip her coffee, take pictures and soak up the happiness on her boy’s face. Some of that happiness will transfer to her, but there is still a small hole of loneliness.  A hole that misses Jim, her siblings and her father. She will smile and laugh with the kids, but she will also cry a little inside, for those who can’t be there to watch her amazing children with her.

Joe went to Utah. I can’t pretend to know him anymore. To know why he does what he does. But the part of me that thinks I still know him-the parts of him that no one else ever could-that part, thinks he went to Utah to escape. To escape the Christmas that never should have been. Our family, broken, unable to celebrate the holiday the way we all wished we were. Part of me thinks he went because he knows he did this, he knows I didn’t come home for Christmas as planned because of him. He knows that Ed, my sister and I are alone today because he has torn our family to pieces.

I am here in Seattle. Michael sleeps in the next room. It’s too dark to see what cats are around me, but they are here. Soon my dad will come over and we’ll open gifts, play games, eat food and laugh. It will be nice, but it won’t be the Christmas I have been imagining all year. I guess I should prepare myself that Christmas will never be the same again. If the last six months are any indication, I will never have a traditional Christmas again. I guess it’s time to find new traditions.

Dawn, Joe, Ed and I make each other better people. We are all strong individuals, but we are unstoppable when we are all together.

This Christmas isn’t the end of the world. It’s one Christmas in the dozens we’ll have in a lifetime. Today, it’s hard. Soon, it will be forgotten.

There is always next year.

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Yesterday, today and tomorrow

Last night, Michael and I exchanged presents with each other, shopped for Christmas and cleaned the house.

Today, I anxiously await picking up my dad and step-mom from the airport.

Tomorrow, I will miss my sister, nephews, grandparents, brothers, mom, Tim, Heidi and all those I love I won’t get to see. I will enjoy a relaxing time at my house with my boyfriend and parents. I will think fondly of all the friends I have made this year.

I live a very blessed life. I have so, so much. For all my complaining, I have so much more than most people have and I am so very grateful for it all.

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The Principal

It wasn’t until I was in middle school that our school system started doing “in service” days. You know, those wonderful Fridays you had no classes, but the teachers had to work. I loved those days.

However, on this particular in service day, I had to go to school. I was in drama and dance and we had a dance competition coming up. We had to practice. My mom dropped me off in front of the school and told me she was going to stop by the office, since she had recently volunteered to help the PTA.

We practiced for hours. It was fun. Afterwards, we were all standing outside, chatting, waiting for our parents. Soon, though, I was the only one there. Me and our dance coach, who was anxious to leave. I saw our Principal’s Bronco in his spot, so I told her I’d go into the office and call my mom. When I got closer, I saw my mom’s van parked on the other side of the Bronco. Apparently, she’d been here the whole time. I told my coach she was here and went inside to find her.

The moment I walked into the office, I felt the air change. I couldn’t quite place what I noticed, what I was feeling, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. I heard a noise come from the principal’s office, so I went over and knocked on the door. There seemed to be a lot of sudden movement inside, but I couldn’t place why that would be unusual or weird.

When he opened the door, I saw my mom inside. Me, being me, I walked right in, sat down at his conference table and started talking. My mom cut me off however and said we had to get going.

When we got home, my mom went straight back to her room and got on the phone (it was the only place we had a phone in our small house). Something was amiss, but I didn’t know what. I hovered outside her door. I caught snippets of the conversation:

“I don’t know what that was, but I liked it”

“We need to figure this out”

“Yes, I will be there in 10 minutes”

Sure enough, my mom  came out of her room and told me I needed to keep an eye on my brothers while she met a coworker to drop off some stuff. She was gone for 3 hours. Her coworker, called 10 times while she was gone. Wondering where she was. She, obviously, didn’t go meet him. Something wasn’t sitting right with me, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Continue reading “The Principal”

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To change or not to change

I have been thinking a lot about me lately. My flaws and weaknesses. My strengths. Why I am the way I am. How I have changed for better or worse.

I wish I could say this is about self-reflection, the new year or trying to grow and be a better person. But, it’s about him. Everything is about him. I need him. I need to do whatever I can do to get him back (save pretending to be his ex-girlfriend. Dumbass).

I am not sure the best way to go about this. I tend to start things and not finish them. Especially when I have to take a long hard look at myself. For now, the general plan will be to list out what I think all my flaws/weaknesses/strengths are and then, to look back. Look at how I got here. I want to write stories of my life that may or may not be significant. I know I can’t pinpoint the moment “Oh! If I would have just veered right, instead of left, it would all be OK”, but I can try to find where certain behaviors started and maybe figure out why.

Basically, my blog just became therapy and anyone who reads it became unwilling participants.

I have thought about therapy, real therapy, but I know I am not quite there. Last time I did it, I wasn’t honest, I didn’t listen to her and I didn’t change one tiny bit. I have too much trouble opening up to people. Even people I am closest too.

Hopefully this won’t be ALL I write about, but writing helps. Which is why I have felt so frustrated lately. I haven’t been able to put words to anything and it’s been hurting me. I feel like if I start to look back, tell stories I’ve told a million times (thank you Gonzales genes), it might be easier. It might help. It can’t hurt to try.

So . . . here goes nothing:

The list of me, as I see it:

  1. Stubborn. Unrelentingly stubborn. It’s worse than a fault. It can and has been crippling me
  2. Mean, mean, mean. I can be so mean and so cold if I don’t like you. There is no reason to be so mean.
  3. Generous. I try to give as much as I can to the people I love. However, sometimes, when it comes to “things” I try too hard. I think I use money and presents to buy love, much like my parents did with me, though they each did it in different ways.
  4. Fiercely loyal. . .
  5. . . . though, to willing to cut someone out of my life whom I think has wronged me or a loved one. I also tend to do this, if I think there might be some argument between us. I’d prefer to cut you out first, before you can do it to me.
  6. Too demanding. I expect way too much out of people, it’s impossible for them not to fail me
  7. I am very insightful and give great advice to friends and family. I tend to be the person most people turn to.
  8. I am more sensitive than I let on. This is a weakness in my eyes, but maybe a good thing if I ever let people know it
  9. I am so, so lazy. Once I get going, I kick ass, but it takes A LOT to get me going. So. Lazy.
  10. I am very self-aware. I don’t always use this to make myself better, but I am very aware of all my bullshit

I am certain there is so much I can add to this list, but it’s a start.

Hopefully the start of something good.

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It’s all I have

It’s time for bullet points. It’s the most I can give.

  1. I am so excited because a journal I have wanted FOREVER from Sweet Bella went on sale today. It’s the little things in life. . .
  2. My girl, LSL, sent me a mix CD, chocolate and a little note. This pretty much made my week, if not month.
  3. Apparently, some people (coughJoecough) think I am sostupid, that I would use other people’s cell phones to try and contact them. Like THAT would work. “Oh! So you tricked me and lied? Well, that’s OK, even though I haven’t spoken to you in 6 months, I forgive you and will talk to you anyway!” Right. That makes soooo much sense.
  4. Holidays are coming up. I’ve done my best to get into the Holiday spirit, but, it hasn’t quite been working out.
  5. It hasn’t yet been a week, but I miss Ed.
  6. I am ready for a new tattoo
  7. I have been trying very hard to make Google Wave work for me. I don’t think I should have to try so hard, Google. Also, I have some invites if anyone wants one.
  8. Michael got The Gray cat a small heating pad, because she loves her warmth. However, I noticed last night that it has 15 pounds of fur on it and she seems to be going bald in some spots. So, I told him that it can only be kept on in a limited capacity
  9. I am still angry that I couldn’t (although, OK, I chose not to) go home for Christmas

I am not loving this post. But I am, once again, trying to push through my issues and just post it.

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What’s your secret?

As you know, I have been obsessed with Post Secret forever.

I LOVE this video. It’s done so well.

So, here is one of my secrets:

My biggest fear is that no one will ever love me the way Joe did and I am going to be alone for the rest of my life. Because without him, no matter who else I have, I am alone.

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Chuckles

The other day I was thinking about this blog. There were numerous thoughts in my head:

  1. I hate this blog. It’s SO boring and depressing
  2. In the last few months I have started writing over 15 posts and can’t ever seem to finish them
  3. I used to write things that I found funny. Actually, I used to write things that made me (if no one else) literally Laugh! out loud.
  4. Why am I such a sad lou now?
  5. What now?

I can’t really solve all those things. It is what it is. The last 2 years have been pretty hard on me. The blog reflects that. I don’t want to not have a blog. I have met some of the best people in the world because of it. I am not ready to hang it up quite yet.

But I do want to tell funny stories. I don’t know why I stopped. Some of it has to do with Twitter. When I post something funny on Twitter, I kind of feel like it’s redundant to elaborate any further on the subject. It’s not like I have millions of Twitter followers and millions of blog readers. It’s basically the same people. I am pretty sure they have enough of my repeating the same shit over and over (save for my sister, or Heidi).

However, I really need to just get over it, because, when I look back at my blog, I don’t want to think “What is with this whiny girl?!” I really want to think “You, my dear, are hhhiiiiiilllllaaaarrrriiiooouussss”

So, with that in mind, here is the story of the fire alarm, that I regaled my sister with today:

I have been reading some good books lately, so I have been FORCED to go to bed later, thus, forfeiting my beauty sleep. Last night was no exception. I was [finally] blissfully asleep when, at about 3:30 AMish, our fire alarm in the bedroom beeped a few times. It wasn’t the annoying, short beep that says “Change my battery! Now! Or I will drive you insane! Don’t test me!”, no this beep was the beep it makes when it smells smoke (and by smoke, I mean the person who lit up a cigarette. In Boston. It’s one sensitive bitch. “Kiki? Kiki-kins? Who’s smoking? I smell smoke. Is someone smoking within a six mile radius of where I’m standing! Stop them Kiki, stop them!” I digress).

I go into “Fire mode”. My sister makes fun of me because last time we were faced with a fire situation, I checked my door before touching the handle. Because I graduated 5th grade. Once again, I put my fire skills to use, but alas, nothing. After about 10 minutes, Michael and I decided it was an anomaly and went back to bed. Not more than 40 minutes later it beeped a few more times.

This time, I remembered that the smoke detector we bought for the bedroom was also a CO detector. Read: we were all going to die. I made Michael go find the manual (yes, I keep every manual that comes through my door), while I started crying. Like, hysterically. In my defense, it was 4 AM. I told Michael that it was OK if we died, but that I just didn’t want The Grays to die. (Although, let’s be serious, who would put up with their shit if we were gone?) Michael comes back to tell me that it makes a different noise if it’s CO, so we will live after all. Of course, I don’t believe him and I make him prove it. Which he does. Know-it-all.

We, once again, go back to bed. And sure enough, about an hour later, the beep goes off. This time, I just roll over as I mumble to Michael to take care of it. He does, by taking the batteries out.

Of course, less than a [restless] hour later, I have to get up and get ready for work. By that I mean, I slept later than I should and didn’t wash my hair or wear make-up. I am HOT today. As I was getting ready to leave the house, Michael was still sleeping. I went over to kiss him, like I normally do, and I whispered to him

“I hope you don’t die from CO poisoning. If you do, that means you will have killed The Grays and I will have to bring you back to life so I can kill you again”

I am the most loving girlfriend of all time.

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