The Diary of Queen Mothy |
Thanksgiving Break written @ 8:00 PM on November 30, 2003 So continuing my ranting about surgery from the other day... I was rather disappointed I had no other healing to do except regaining the feeling in my chin and the normal stuff that happens with teeth. I couldn't solicit sympathy and pity from people, you know? But the pudding and jello were fabulous! As of today I am still a bit sore, but oh well. So. I survived my wisdom tooth surgery, and I promise you don't have to hear my whining and bitching about it ever again. Smile. *** Thanksgiving was awkward. Yeah, yeah, I think awkward is the best word for it. Thank God my mother invited my grandmother down from Rhode Island, and she also did some quick thinking and invited our neighbors and her friend from work. There were about nine of us at the table, including my dad. Over all it was pleasant, and my recovery was fast enough to not need turkey puree, but to be frank it was awkward. For one thing, everyone there knew about my parents' separation but Dad was pretending like everything was normal. Secondly, he is either hot or cold; at one moment he could be an engaging, good-humored host, and at another he is cold and grumbles barely audible sentences. In fact, he was cold and reclusive for the few days that I saw him. Periodically he would ask how my mouth was feeling, and then he demanded that I give him whatever Percoset pills I had left over once the pain was gone, and then he muttered, "Don't quit your day job," when I showed my mom and grandmother the photos I was working on for my photography class... which was insulting, considering the time, sweat, and tears I spend in the darkroom. Literally. By Saturday, upon reflection of my Thanksgiving break, I decided that when it comes to my father I have become angry, bitter, and just as cold as he is. I concluded that I have every right to be pissed off at him for multitudes of reasons, but I am suppressing thinking about dark thoughts in light of the season. Besides that, harboring ill will is unhealthy. And no one wants to hear me complain about my dad anymore. M said something interesting to me last night as I sat in bitter revelry. "You're older than your parents..." She meant the age of my soul, of course. She continued, "Your time for learning about love and marriage passed a long time ago. It's their turn to take their lessons. Each one has something different to gain from this period of hardship." "Gee, I wonder which one is passing their test," I said to her sardonically. She didn't answer me about this. "The only thing you need to be concerned about is that you don't repeat their mistakes, that you don't emotionally separate yourself from conflict as your father does or that you don't become angry and cynical as your mother about this. They are your blood in this life; your test is how you sustain it." Straight from the mouth of my spirit guide. Of course, M doesn't talk in complete sentences; I can only shine "impressions," you might say. Grandma stopped by for a little while, but she had to make the rounds to the rest of the family and couldn't stay for all the dinner. As for the other ghosts in the house, many of them are still there; I found I could pick up on them easier when I was taking the drugs from my surgery. *wry smile* The Native American, Keemu, seems as though she's going to be there for quite some time; she says she feels "safe" in the house after seeing my mom's appreciation for Native American dolls and culture. I don't mind if Keemu stays; she's the quiet one, and she's lonely. *** Anyway, I got a bit off-topic. Friday was spent shopping with every other nut case in Ohio, yet another Black Friday American tradition fulfilled. I bought my roommate a spiral lucky bamboo because she said she always wanted one, plus a bottle of coffee milk syrup from Rhode Island because she's never had coffee milk. I had a good time with the posse; it was nice to see the old gang. Liz was looking great compared to the pictures of her after the car accident. See any movies? You bet. Love Actually is fantastic and stars every middle-aged British actor I've ever had a crush on from age fifteen until today. God, that sentence sounds so wrong but they were so yummy. And Gothika isn't as bad as everyone says it is. Halle Berry does a good job considering the condition of the script, and it was a semi-original plot even if you guessed the culprits at the off. Somewhere in the span of all this, I ate more pudding and jello than I have at any one point in my entire life, did some homework, watched The Prisoner of Azkaban trailer ten times, and managed to unwind from the utter hell this semester has evolved into. But here I am, sitting back at my dorm, procrastinating from writing my archaeology paper, mentally prepping myself to dive back into hell's bowels. Between now and bedtime, I'll think about sketching out ideas for my scenic design final, work on my novel-- because it's Sunday and I deserve it-- take a hot shower, and solve some of the world's greatest problems. Pretty uneventful. Tomorrow I have to drive all the way home for-- insert groan-- a job interview. Which I might not get. Which means I'll be jobless for winter break. Artistic bohemian life of starving and strife, here I come!
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
Latest Entry | Archives | Diaryland |
Profile | Diaryrings | |
Guestbook | E-mail Me | Leave a note |
Art Work (Coming Soon) | Genealogy (Coming Soon) | The-Last-Unicorn.net |