|
| I've been praying alot today. The yelling kind of prayer. In my car. People probably think I'm crazy.
I really like text messaging.
Lately, everyone wants to know why I don't go by Eileen. I always say that I do, in fact. That people in the know call me Eileen. I'm starting to realize that I don't like it when people call me Eileen without really knowing what it means to me. Like my teachers. It's starting to bother me, because it feels empty, and that name is too special to be empty.
Speaking of which, am I the only one who doesn't have a clue what my parents were like as children? Or what they went through? I guess I shouldn't say I don't have a clue. I have a clue. An inkling. I think my parents had interesting lives. I wish I knew more. Because it makes me feel like half a person sometimes, not knowing where I came from.
When I was in Colorado this Christmas, one of my Aunts, my Uncle Mike's wife (the domineering one), mentioned something about the last Christmas my grandmother was alive. My mother was 13 or 14. She said that my grandpa bought her a dress from her favorite dress shop, and she asked him why he would do that, why he would spend the money on a dress she probably wouldn't be around to wear. I don't think my mom wanted to remember that.
When I was in high school, it suddenly dawned on me one day that we had never visited her grave. All those trips to St. Louis, and the idea never even came up. I asked my dad why we go to his parent's graves almost every memorial day, but we've never even talked about hers. He said my mom doesn't like visiting graves. She thinks it's weird. I'm too scared to ask her about it.
Everywhere I've ever wanted to go, my dad has already been. Italy, Greece, Spain. Seattle, Portland. San Diego. Who knows where else. Now he doesn't like to travel. I asked him once if he doesn't like it because he's already been everywhere. He said that was part of it. I decided later that the other part was because he had experienced so many things and tried out many different lives, and now he's found what he wants in his family and his home and his faith.
Don't they say that we start to feel your own mortality more and more as we grow older? It surprises me that I couldn't care less about my own mortality, but I've been thinking more and more about my parents and their families, and about how eventually they will all disappear.
I'm thinking about all this because I wrote a story about a funeral for class tonight. That's it. I'm not morbid.
| | |
| I want to get back on the xanga horse.
I have a confession. My old entries don't make any sense to me. I've been so vague that I don't even remember my references.
I'm not going to comment on how school's going, cause I don't want to jinx myself. Let's just say, at this point, I'm still jinxable.
Tonight has been filled with the rat pack.
"You should date him." "I know. He totally undresses me with his eyes every time he sees me." "Yeah, I saw that. And you're blushing."
| | |
| Writing scares me. Well, life scares me.
I been thinking about all these bumper stickers I keep seeing. Everyone has these bumper stickers with their defining statement and their all-encompassing opinion of the world. I don't like it. I don't know how anyone can sum up their whole world in catch phrases. It's flat. If I wrote a character who was so black and white and no gray; only yes and no, and no maybe, I don't think I'd make it out of college.
I have all these weird dimples or bumps or something on my arm. I've never been able to figure them out.
I bought a lamp. I tiny decorative desk lamp. It has warmed up my room. I think it's the shadows. There's all these long shadows on my walls now.
My dad built me a bookcase. An immaculate bookcase. And I love him. I am blessed.
My brother always says that we are spoiled. Spoiled Americans. I always tell him that we are not spoiled. We are blessed.
I like to feel life changing.
| | |
| "Clever. Everyone's using the word clever lately." "Since when?" "Well, you're brother said it earlier today." "Yeah, that's because you made your own umbrella." "Umbrella?" "Oh, whoops, I meant envelope."
People keep evolving. It blows my mind. No wonder some of us are getting lost.
Today, my dad gave me the pocket watch he used to carry around when I was young. It doesn't work anymore.
| | |
| I saw on tv tonight that the American Gladiators are coming back.
I learned some things about myself this weekend. And about other people as well.
I am always learning.
I've been thinking since last night when the cashier at the grocery
store told me all about how she's putting in her two weeks notice for a
job that pays more, that I really love those people; let's call them
the "life story" people. I love the way they are so overcome by their
emotions and by the present that they can't help but blurt it out.
Whatever is on their mind just comes right on out, like they have no
filter. It's brilliant.
My life is going in directions I'm unsure of. But I must say, at this point, I feel more in control than....ever.
Sometimes I am dyslexic. Disaster? Deserted? Who can tell.
At this point, I should break into some discourse
(deserted?disaster?which one?) about life or something, as is my usual
practice. But I think the things I know about life tonight are things
I'm not ready to share. Instead, I wish to tell you of a website I've
recently come to enjoy. FreeRice.com. Go there. Enjoy it, too.
I like it when things blend.
I think I am done. Comments? Please? You know I crave them.
I just wondered what would happened if I held down both Shift buttons
when capitalizing a letter. So I tried it. Nothing special.
Disappointing.
Um, you should know that xanga went "down for maintenance" while I was
writing this. Henceforth, this may be coming to you well after I have
actually written it.
"What are you doing?" "What do you mean?" "There are noises that I am curious about."
| | |
|