Mom Problems, Weddings, and House Guests.

I am so fucking fed up with my mother.  Today, I flat out asked her if we could have a nice, civilized conversation without it ending in her nagging and bitching at me.  I practically begged.  And what happened?  I lower and debase myself, instead of just wishing that we could talk without me ending up pissed off…And she fucking does it anyway.  I could cry.  I almost cried.  I’m so goddamn frustrated.  I try so hard…Okay, now, I’m crying.  I try so hard to have a decent relationship with this woman.  She’s so fucking lucky that I even try after all the shit she’s put me through.  And then she goes and crushes me every time.  I get so excited when we have a good conversation between two adults, but she always has to end it with ranting and poking and prodding at me.  This is the process.  We have a fine discussion, like two equals, and then I can hear her ramping up to bitch me out, so I try to end the conversation before she gets a chance.  No dice.  She just keeps on ploughing through.  And usually I end up hanging up on her, putting a crappy end on what was a perfectly fine conversation.

On a lighter note, my cousin, Lauren, and her fiance, Josh, want to get married up at our cabin in Wisconsin.  I’m not sure how I feel about that.  Part of me is flattered and part of me…doesn’t want to share!  It’s our cabin, not theirs!  Besides, what if I wanted to get married up there?  Not that I do, but…what if I did?  Now there’s no way I could.  Then it’d look like I stole their idea.  And people would be comparing my wedding to theirs.  If I ever get married…Whatever.  My dad doesn’t like it either, but I’m sure he’s not going to tell them no.  Especially since my mom is thrilled.

Overall, I like Lauren and I like Josh and I think they’re good for each other.  Josh is like a big golden retriever.  One of those people who’s just entirely a kid at heart.  I’m just going to start convincing myself that I should be honored that they want to do it at our cabin.  I guess it is pretty cool.  Besides, I want a small wedding, but a gigantic party.  And I want it in the fall…somewhere outside, with pretty leaves.  No pretty leaves by the cabin.  It’s all pine trees.

Sarah H is talking to us again and hanging out with us as if nothing ever happened.  The drama over us excluding her from the house lasted forever it seems like.  She bitched me out all over my public Facebook wall.  She dragged in all these people who didn’t need to be involved, as always.  Why she was blaming the whole thing on me, exactly, I’m not sure.  She apparently thought I brainwashed Nisha into living with us or something.  Everyone was fed up.  My, Skylar M, Nisha, Annie…What an idiot.  I’m so glad we won’t have to deal with this mindless immaturity next year.  We made the right choice.

My friend Jesse B who used to be in the equine program with me but now goes to school in Columbus is visiting this weekend with her boyfriend, Luke A.  Luke is very, very nice and we have a lot in common :) We definitely hit it off.  I approve.  He’s a sweet guy.  They’re so damn cute.  People always seem to make a big deal out of interracial couples, even in this day and age.  I wonder if they even acknowledge that as an issue.  I hope not.  It shouldn’t mean a thing.  Last night we watched “Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog”.  If you haven’t seen it…Do.  Set aside forty minutes or so and watch it.  It’s hilarious and poignant and just incredibly fantastic.  Look, I even linked it, for your convenience!

1. Give me a chance and I’ll prove it to you…

2. Whenever it snows these days, it makes me sad or angry.  I just want it to be warm out.  Or at least be able to see the grass.  The only time I like snow is right around Christmas.  And then it sucks.  There are two days a year that it’s acceptable.  Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

3. I wish that my mother would just listen to what I say for once.  She never listens…She never hears what I’m saying.  Or she just doesn’t care.  In which case…I wish she cared.

4. Scrambled eggs and corned beef hash with wheat toast was the last thing I ate that was utterly delicious.  I made them the French way in a tiny little electric skillet that’s sitting on top of my heater.  It’s contraband.  We’re not supposed to have it.  Then again, I’m not supposed to have a snake and I’ve got one of those.  So, there.

5. To live in this world you’d better have a damn thick skin or you’re not gonna last too long.  Mine could use some thickening still apparently.

6. Other than this one, The Pioneer Woman is the last blog I commented on.  I am positively infatuated with this woman’s life.  Hunky cowboy husband, adorable children in wranglers and boots, a house on a cattle ranch in the country…Luscious, fattening, homestyle cooking.  Plus she takes beautiful photos.

7. And as for the weekend, I’m NOT looking forward to finding some way to do all my homework and studying that I need to get done for Monday in between hanging out with Jesse and Luke and Nisha and Sarah and watching movies and-…Ahhh!

Filed under: Journal , family, friday fill-ins, friends, future, meme

Again, It Starts.

“Reality is nothing but a collective hunch.” –Jane Wagner.

I’ve created, in total, at least five blogs throughout my life. Some lasted years, some hardly lasted at all. This one, I think, will persist, if only to feed this burning ache inside of me that demands I put thoughts down into a visible form, where my eyes can explore them further. My writer’s itch.

Tonight is new years eve. Does this mean much, really? It’s the beginning of a new year, yes, but doesn’t one year just run right into the next anyway? The sun set tonight, behind a uniformly gray veil of snow-pregnant clouds, the same way it did last night and the same way it will again tomorrow. There’s no seam between this year and the next except the one that our culture creates. Invisible threads.

I’m disregarding it this year. Mostly because I’m alone. I could include the details, but I’m not sure it’s necessary. I don’t want this blog to lose it’s importance and become a mindless listing of the events of my daily life. I want it to be deeper. I can feel myself giving out when I forget to write about things. I need to narrate my own life. I need to put things into words.

Tonight, I went for a walk. I pulled on my dark gray wool coat, $30 at Super-Target. The one I don’t really like very much, but the only one I have. A belt around the waist, with big buttons up the front. I put a black leather leash on one of my dogs and she proceeded to squat down and pee right on it as soon as we hit the pure white street. I left my glasses in my purse in the house. The snow was coming down and it coated every tiny twig of every tree and every bush and it piled up atop the street signs beneath the ugly yellow of the lights, like tiny little forts built up in preparation for some sort of epic, miniature snowball fight. We walked to the park, through at least a foot of snow and there was quiet except for the snapping of her jaws in the powdery top layer and the swishing of my boots through it. They’re gorgeous boots. Square-toed chestnut-colored Ariats, with a light green top portion. I bought them at the All-American Quarter Horse Congress this year. Last year? 2007. I also bought a little stuffed paint horse who I named “Seven”. He’s my souvenir, since they were sold out of the sweatshirt I wanted by the time I made up my mind to get it. Once again, I should learn not to procrastinate. But I’m getting off-topic. We went for a walk, through the park. Sometimes on the path, sometimes off it. Either way, we ended up at the playground on the far side of the tennis courts. And I brushed the snow off one of the swings, the one in the center, but it was frozen and jagged underneath the powder. I flipped it over and sat down on the wrong side. I just sat. And listened to the snow fall. It does make a sound, you know? It’s just a whisper, really. A hush. Everything looked so pretty. The sky was light and the snow reflected it and everything just looked so pillow-soft. Even the orange and blue, the plastic and metal, of the playground. I used to play there when I was a kid. Played truth or dare on top of that slide. But what I was really looking at was the darkness of the trees, laced with white and starkly outlined against that peach-gray sky.

I felt like I was waiting for someone. I kept glancing towards the bridge. In an ideal world, a young man would have come trudging through that untouched snow, maybe with his own dog at the end of a leash. And he’d have looked up, his hands jammed deep in his pockets, and seen me as he crested the hill that that playground rests on top of, sitting on that swing with my jeans caked in snow halfway to my knees and my bangs damp with melted flakes and curled across my forehead. And we’d have fallen in love. Just like that.

But we didn’t and he never came, so I got up and walked back home, just as my nose started to go numb and my ears started to ache with the cold. And I could see myself walking, in the shadow thrown by those ugly street lights. How long my ponytail was. How far those curls go down my back still surprises me. How the shape of the coat framed my curves.

Maybe I do like that coat a little better than I’m willing to admit.

Filed under: Journal , future, holiday, love, thoughts, writing