Archive for 2007
- September 2013|
- April 2013|
- August 2012|
- March 2012|
- January 2012|
- September 2011|
- June 2011|
- May 2011|
- February 2011|
- March 2010|
- November 2009|
- October 2009|
- September 2009|
- July 2009|
- May 2009|
- April 2009|
- March 2009|
- February 2009|
- January 2009|
- December 2008|
- November 2008|
- October 2008|
- September 2008|
- August 2008|
- July 2008|
- June 2008|
- May 2008|
- April 2008|
- March 2008|
- September 2007|
- August 2007|
- July 2007|
- June 2007|
- May 2007|
- April 2007|
- March 2007|
- February 2007|
- December 2006|
- November 2006|
- October 2006|
- September 2006|
September 19th, 2007 | Josie
Insomnia is a gross feeder. It will nourish itself on any kind of thinking, includingthinking about not thinking. ~Clifton Fadiman
September 16th, 2007 | Josie
Just because everything is different doesn’t mean anything has changed.~Irene Peter
August 10th, 2007 | Josie
Hating people is like burning down your own house to get rid of a rat. ~Henry Emerson Fosdick
Or, in our case, a bat. I never fail to be astounded by the lengths that some people will go to in order to destroy the lives of other people. Amid all of the hustle and bustle, the to-and-fro motion I seem to be constantly enjoying as I fly across the ocean and drive from one end of the state to the other, we get a law suit thrown on top of us, too.
My parents recently moved across the state, following my mom’s new job. Now, all of that isn’t really my business since I don’t live with them anymore and I haven’t lived with them for two years, but they are my family, so of course I help out. What kind of daughter would I be if I didn’t? The people that bought their home are nightmares incarnate, driving us out of our home a week before they had previously agreed on, calling my parents names, treating them like so much scum. My parents have bent over backwards to placate them, but none of that seemed to matter. As we drove away from the home that I lived in longer than I have ever lived anywhere else in my life, a whopping five years, all I could think was “good ridance.” Although the buyers’ negative attitude had made the moving out process hectic and wearing, at least we would no longer have to deal with them.
That sort of thinking proved to be overly optomistic. Since my parents departure a month ago, the buyers have peppered them with demands and complaints, culminating in a potential law suit against my parents for the presence of bats in the home. The claim is that my parents knew about the bats and hid them, but in the five years that I lived with my family in that home, I saw a grand total of two bats. The thing that is so ludicrous about the allegation is that my parents raised four girls in that house. If anyone would have freaked out about bats, it would have been my sisters and I. The last time I saw a bat, my cat had caught it and brought in the house. When he came trotting towards me to show me his prize, I flew in to the bathroom, screaming like a banshee. I proceeded to lock the door and hide in the bathtub for the better part of 10 minutes. Does that really sound like a person that would have been content to live amidst a bat infestation for five years? Not bloody likely!
The thing is that when this goes to court, I am not worried that my parents will lose. They have a solid case and a million and two character witnesses to atest to the fact that they are good people not likely to scam anyone. What upsets me the most about this ordeal is the testament to the kind of people that live in this world. There are people that would try to ruin a family, destroying their memories of a home that they loved, simplely for personal gain. It breaks my heart that people can be that petty. All we wanted was to leave our home knowing that they people who bought it would love it as much as we did. Instead, we have had nothing but turmoil. I just pray that once all of this is over, we can get back to our lives and start over, like we have done countless times before.
July 11th, 2007 | Josie
Where we love is home,Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.~Oliver Wendell Holmes
I have spent the past 20 years moving from house to house, city to city, and, more recently, country to country. People assume that I must have hated growing up this way, that it must have been hard never having a real “home.” The thing is that I never once in my childhood considered myself to being missing out on the home experience. Every time we moved, I felt at home within days of moving into the new house. I learned at an early age that, for me at least, the old adage holds true: “home is where the heart is.” Growing up, home was always where my family was, wherever that was. Even now that I am grown and no longer living with my family, home to me is where I keep the things most precious to me: pictures of my sisters, trinkets from my mom, memories of growing up. I can also feel at home in more than one place. Part of my heart will always be at home in the house that my parents live in, even if I have never really lived there myself. Other parts of me will feel at home in the apartment that I currently live in, while still other parts belong exclusively to the places I love best, residing with the people I love most in this world.My return to the U.S. has been an interesting one, one marked by moving. Not only have I moved back, but I began the hunt for an apartment almost immediately. On top of my own imminent relocation is the fact that my parents and sisters are moving as well. The last week and a half has been a flurry of boxes and packing and moving trucks. It has been both stressful and convenient to move at the same time as my parents. Stressful in the fact that there is much to separated between my things and theirs and that we have to move their things in one direction and mine in another, but also nice in that there are things that I need that will not go well in their new house, or that they need to replace anyways.I have always thought of moving and packing as a chance to reorganize and cleanse. When you move, all of the clutter and mess gets weeded out, thrown away, and a newly unpacked room is pristine and perfect. I am not always a terribly neat person, as anyone that has ever lived with me for any length of time can attest to. I don’t like to do the dishes, and I am a firm believer that, contrary to popular belief, your bedroom floor can, in fact, serve double duty as a closet. Despite that, I like to live in clean spaces every once in a while, and I have spent my life rearranging my room entirely every couple of months, just to feel like things have changed. I think that I thrive on that change. It energizes me in a way that nothing else really can, much to the frustration of my college roommate when I informed her at eleven o’clock at night that I had to move the room around immediately. New places and new ways of looking at things make me feel most alive.
June 13th, 2007 | Josie
A daughter is a little girl who grows up to be a friend. ~Author Unknown
As old as we get, there is always that time of the day that we wish we were five again, just so we could curl up in our mother’s lap and not worry about the world for a little while. The older we get, the less we have that opportunity. Our mother goes from mommy to friend, in a transition that often seems inexplicable.
Growing up, I raged against my mother from time to time. I resented her authority, that she felt she wshould be able to tell me what to do. Even when I knew that she was right, I would rebel against her advise. I often acused my mom of trying to turn me into “just a little her.” While it is true that I share many qualities with my mother (most admirable traits mixed in with one or two bad habits), I can now see that my mom never wanted me to be her. She wanted only for me to be the best me that I could be. She is, of course, disappointed when I don’t live up to my own standards, when I don’t “practice what I preach,” but she has never once stopped loving me.
She has been my best friend, and my worst critic. Sometimes, she is both at once. She is there for you when you fall, scolding you when you need it, and hugging you always. She is the mirror that you look to for guidence, the one person that you most want to impress. We are the reflections of our mother’s love, always.
June 12th, 2007 | Josie
Sometimes I feel that life is passing me by, not slowly either. It’s passing, yet I’m the one who’s doing all the moving. ~Martin Amis
Time is nothing if not fickle. When we want it to speed up, say during a boring lecture, the minutes slow to hours. When we want it to slow down, give us time to enjoy what we have while we have it, it flashes by in the blink of an eye. Time is spiteful.
Right now I feel as though I am clinging to time, paying and hoping that it will slow down enough to let me savor these last few weeks with Leo. I just wish that I had more time. More time to laugh, more time to cuddle, more time to show him how much I care about him. What can I do? Why did I have to fall so maddeningly in love with someone that is so oblivious to how I feel, so scared of the emotion that he denies that it exists? The one time that I fall for someone kind, someone good, there is no time to nurture it. I just don’t know what to do.
I know that this is not going to be easy, that it is going to be down right impossible, but what can I do at this point but pray and try to make it work. I am far to deep in to just let go and not be hurt. How do I take back my heart, when all of me knows that it has been his since the start?
May 8th, 2007 | Josie
The most important things are the hardest to say, because words diminish them. ~Stephen King
Why is it always the things that we feel most strongly that we cannot seem to find a way to express? I just don’t know how to put into words the emotions in my heart right now, and that in itself is heartbreaking, because all I want to do is shout from the rooftops how happy I am. I just don’t know how.
April 23rd, 2007 | Josie
April 21st, 2007 | Josie
The past is our definition. We may strive, with good reason, to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it, but we will escape it only by adding something better to it. ~Wendell Berry
As hard as we try, at times there is no escaping the things that have happened to us. What is past is past, but it is also irreversible.
Usually, I try not to think about the past, expecially the bad things that have happened in it, but the funny thing about the past is that it has a way of sneeking up on us when we least expect it and effecting our present in a very substantial way. How do you explain to someone you care about why you are crying for no apparent reason. All they can do is hold you in bewilderment while you cry, unable to explain the reason. The reason makes no sense to them, can never make sense to them, really, because they were not there, in that time and place.
Part of you needs to explain, wants to tell them, and the other part wants desperately to forget that it ever happened. You don’t want to burden them with the terrors of your history, partly in fear that they will back away. You are tainted, and you cannot forget, can never forget. It is part of you, it pains you. Sometimes, it is you.
Please understand, I am not what I seem to be. I am hurting, but that does not mean that I am all hurt. I can be happy, and I can try to love and live and learn from the mistakes and tragedies of my past, but I need help, I need to be loved despite the issues I embody. I need the life to be breathed back into me. I need to cope with the past and embrace the future. I need to live.
“When thunder rolls through my life, will you be able to weather the storm?”
April 19th, 2007 | Josie
Sometimes I feel that life is passing me by, and not slowly either. It’s passing, yet I’m the one who’s doing all the moving. ~Martin Amis