in time the snow will rise

Oh boy, Xmas.

Break’s been okay, more or less.  There have been a lot of really shitty parts and a couple really awesome parts, and other than that it’s been pretty cut-and-dry boring.  Donovan came up last weekend (was it really only last weekend?  Jesus, that seems like a long time ago!) and he got to meet my family.  That went pretty well, I think.  Da hasn’t said much of anything, but that’s usually a good thing; Mum says she really likes him; my brother wasn’t a huge asshole.  Hooray and such.  We drove over to Champaign so he could meet with a professor there.  He was thinking about attending U of I for his PhD, and he really wanted to meet with the head of military history over there.  The guy was a bit crazy: we were there for almost two hours and he more or less never stopped talking.  Sadly, I think he made Donovan change his mind about attending the school.  It’s a shame how one teacher can do that to a student.  Somedays I really hate academia.

But he was here and that was lovely and I miss him blah blah blah.  You know the drill with all that mushy crap.

Recently, I and my entire immediate family acquired a pretty rough bout of stomach flu/food poisoning/digestive ebola.  We’re pretty sure Justin got it from his boss and then gave it to all of us, but it came on so fast that I’m not entirely sure that’s the case.  He had the hangover from hell this weekend which continued for two days straight, during which time he felt the need to get his nasty-ass germs all over my bed.  Why?  Because he is a GIANT CHACH.  Fucker.  So I got sick, and then Mum got sick, and then Da got sick.  Happy campers.

Mine came on right after dinner on Monday night.  I was up more or less all night with it, and then slept most of the day yesterday.  Feeling better now, kind of, though I’m very regretful that I came in to ‘work’ today.  I should be in bed.  My body is telling me to go to bed.  <i>I</i> am telling me to go to bed.  Really wish I would heed my own advice.  My belly’s kind of swollen, too, though this may just be me lying to myself (I’m not a fatty; my belly’s just swollen!).  Mum was doing okay-ish yesterday: she was kind of jaundiced and pathetic, but she didn’t throw up anymore.  Da was in and out of the bathroom all day, poor guy, and still looks real peaky today.  I have a feeling that Christmas is somewhat cancelled so far as church and grandparents and stuff like that is concerned.  Thank heaven for small favours.

Meanwhile, it’s Chanukah.  I haven’t been up on it like I should be (I refuse to feel bad for this: I’ve been vomiting profusely), but it’s still a nice thing to think about.  A lot of friends have called and sent presents (omg Paige) and done things like that, which hasn’t really ever happened.  It feels nice.  I like it.  It’s not very often the holidays are nice for me.

I’m going up to Chicago next weekend to see everyone.  I cannot wait.  I’ll only be there a couple of days, so I don’t know if I’ll get to see everyone.  There’s never enough time.  Blargh.  Similarly, I’m heading back to school a bit early: partly to escape my mother and partly to see Donovan’s family.  It’s all so very domestic, I’m sure.

But for now I’m sitting in the office at my parents’ church, doing my best not to pass out or throw up on everything.  Only two more hours before I get to go home.  Jeez louise.  I hope all of you are doing much, much better than I am.  Be safe in this shitty weather.


there’s no place like home for the holidays

I got back into Bloomington today around 16.30 or so.  I was at one of Donovan’s concerts last night and didn’t get to his apartment until 2.30.  This, of course, meant that I didn’t make it to bed until after 4.00, and he didn’t make it to bed until 5.00 (he gets antsy at weird hours of the night).  So when my alarm went off at 8.00 this morning, I decided to ignore my original plans of leaving for home at 10.00 and slept in until 11.00.  I ended up leaving town a little after 13.00, which was difficult enough as is.

I was doing really well on the trip up here.  I didn’t have a panic attack at Donovan’s, even though I thought I was going to, and I was trying to keep a positive outlook on the whole situation.  I did cry a little in the car, but that was only for a second and then I was okay.  Well, not okay, really, but capable.

I spent about an hour at home chilling with my da and brother and talking about school stuff.  The next two hours were spent bitching about my grandparents.  Finally, about an hour ago, I got sick of it and went downstairs.  I haven’t been upstairs since despite the fact that my mother ‘was wondering about watching a movie’.  Fuck it.  No.  I can’t handle that right now.

I know my grandparents are sick.  I understand that.  I know it’s frustrating.  Yes, okay, fine, that makes sense.  I am well-aware of the whole fucked-up situation that we are in right now because, you know something?  It’s all you ever tell me about.  There is nothing else my mother talks to me about.  Either do something about it, or quit whining.  Jesus.

And she wants me to go over there and ‘help’.  And I’m willing to do that because, yes, I feel guilty.  I’m at school while my mum and brother and, most importantly, my da are stuck dealing with all this shit.  I feel kind of bad about that.  But she’s unwilling to distract my grandparents so that I can actually achieve something while over at their house.  And Grandpa isn’t making Grandma keep her leg up so she’s getting worse and he never should’ve brought her home in the first place and everyone’s bitching about it but no one’s actually doing something about it and it’s ridiculous.  This is all so fucking contrived.

And my grandma’s going to die in that awful house.  And my grandpa’s going to kill her.

And I never thought I’d hate my grandpa, but I do.  There.  I said it.  I do.

And I was the only kid I know at school who wasn’t looking forward to going home for holiday.

And I’m crying.

And I don’t know why I didn’t just try and bunk down in Centralia for the month.

An eternity of boring married life in Southern Illinois is looking so appeasing right now.  Fuck.  Why did I come here?

if you’re sad, then it’s time you spoke up, too

I have this strong suspicion that there’s going to be a lot of utterly awful days in my future.  Today happened to be one of them.

I have yet to finish either of the two papers due this week.  I don’t know if I’m going to sleep tonight.  I just know that I need to stop writing papers for a little while because my current attempts are FRUITLESS.  And I don’t mean that in the gay way.  Though that, too, is going on.  If I write something, it’s relatively decent.  But that paragraph of decency is surrounded by a good half-hour of writer’s block, so I’m getting nothing but frustration and a headache out of writing.  Jesus.

My fish is dead.  Upsetting, but I figured it would happen sooner or later.  Jesus.

My actors don’t comprehend the idea of ‘acting’.  I don’t understand what’s so difficult about this concept.  It doesn’t really matter what I do: they can’t seem to figure out that maybe the characters they’re playing are real people with real emotions and that they ought to try and capture that humanity.  Whatever.  I’m sure I’m blowing something out of my ass.

I’m pretty sure I’m never, ever going to graduate now.  And when I do, I’m pretty sure I’ll be the only person I know on campus.

I’m worried that I won’t get to spend any time with Paiga when she comes down to visit.  At the same time, I’m pretty sure I would sacrifice my firstborn child for some quality Paige time.  Certain things are more important than others, you know?  Fuck school.  Fuck life.  Fuck fuck fuck.

My grandma’s getting sent to the nursing home tomorrow.  She tried to escape from the hospital three times in her first twenty-four hours of being there.  The third time they called Security and found her wandering around on another floor, lost and confused.  When they brought her back to her room, my grandfather was sitting in there, reading the paper.  Figured there was nothing he could do.  This is completely FUCKED.  HOW COULD YOU DO THAT???  I don’t understand how you can treat someone like this, especially not when you’ve been married to them for over SIXTY.  FUCKING.  YEARS.  I’m pretty sure my grandfather is going to die with me hating him.  But at least at the nursing home, someone will take care of her.  She’s going to be miserable.  She’s going to get violent.  She’s going to think I’m my mum.  I can’t stand the thought of going home.  I can’t stand the fact that my family is incapable of functioning without me.  My da kept talking about divorcing my mum on Saturday.  I don’t know how to handle this.  I don’t think I can handle this.  So instead I’m sitting here in my room, ignoring my paper, crying, bitching about it, because I am incapable of functioning as a healthy human being.

Looten was bitching about how awful today was.  How awful school is.  How awful Carbondale is.  I told him he didn’t know shit.  I almost punched him.  He was like, ‘Well, you can go home in two weeks!’  If Lisa hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve screamed at him.  Home.  Home used to be someplace I wanted to go to.  Somewhere I missed.  And this was all pretty recent.  Now I’m dreading home and feeling bad about it because I am the only adult I know back home.  Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck this isn’t fair.

My da would whoop my ass for writing this stuff on the internet.  I hope he never finds it.

I need a hug right now.  I need someone to hug me really, really tight and refuse to let go and tell me that everything’s going to be okay.  Not now, maybe, but soon.  Soon it’s going to be okay.  You just have to get through this, you know?  I need that so, so badly right now.  I need someone else to be the grown-up for a while.

I need to write my fucking papers.