24 September, 2007, 852 am
Filed under: Music, My Experience with Existence, School

My cousin recently adopted a barn kitten who she has named Moose Phelan.  Moose hangs out at our house most of the time, and she is currently cleaning herself right next to me on my bed.  At least, I believe she is a female.  Almost everyone else seems to think othersise.  She’s tiny and she’s an attention whore and I love her.  She’s never sleepy.  Or at least, her humongous Dobby-like eyes never let on that she’s sleepy.

I’m a bit bored with everyone lately.  My eleven-year-old sisterAlexa comes home from school and complains for about an hour every day.  If you try to give her a solution, she’ll complain about it.  She keeps on trying to follow Rachael (my fifteen-year-old sister) and Shannon (my eleven-year-old cousin) around, and Rachael hurts her, and Alexa will tell on her, but then she’ll just go back to following her around.  I feel like Rachael should be punished for this exclusion and bullying, but Alexa really encourages it by behaving so much like a lemming.  It’s ridiculous.   When I’m treated that way, I alert some authority figure, but then I do my best to avoid whoever’s acting that way towards me.  She really needs to give them some space and stop acting so desperate.  It just makes her seem like an even less desirable candidate to hang out with.  I know that Alexa’s about as small as a seven-year-old, and Shannon’s got the size and maturity of an eighth grader, and that while Alexa’s some two weeks older than Shannon, she’s restricted in what she’s allowed to do, but I feel like she should get a hobby, honestly.  At her age, I probably listened to music, drew pictures, and wrote stories in my spare time.  I never pined after some nonexistent affection.  Yet, I never had a bitch of an older sister because I was the oldest.  And still, I keep to myself unless someone calls on me.

I also feel like my mother’s not doing anything to enforce order in our house, which makes for a chaotic existence.  Rachael’s allowed to wreak havoc and hurt people, and though she may be reprimanded verbally, she’s still allowed to go wherever the hell she wants with Shannon.  Alexa sees this and when she tells off my mother for it, she gets grounded.  I don’t think Alexa’s approaching it right, though.  All we can really do is sit tight and be submissive.  I suppose that’s easier for me to do, though, because I’m going off to college in less than a year, and I’ll also be legal then.  I just know that once I’m grown up with kids, I’m not going to let any spawn of Satan govern how I keep my kids in check.

But then, my mother doesn’t pay attention to us anymore, anyway; after quitting work to be with her first baby seventeen years ago, I feel like she sees that as a suffocating mistake.  She’s taking another stab at being young and unmarried again, and in the process, she’s hiding a lot from us.  And she’s forced to lie to us.  While Rachael and Alexa scold her and pursue the truth, I already know everything that’s been going on.  And I’m shocked a bit, but I don’t really care about what’s happened so much as I’m disappointed that she lied and continues to lie to me.  She takes no interest in my life, which I feel is a mistake, since I’m going away in a year, and if things continue in this direction, not only will I not communicate so much with my father, but I also won’t communicate much with my mother.  I felt like she trusted me.  She was the only one who treated me like I felt I deserved to be treated, but to know that I’m still a child in her eyes when she’s acting so childish, it makes me mad.  And she never apologizes.  I feel like there’s so much she should apologize for that she denies being faults.  Not taking care of me when I’m really ill, getting angry at me for showing emotion, blocking me out when I’m angry.  Not even listening to me when I’m happy.  I feel that she is selfish for acting that way.  And maybe I feel a bit selfish for thinking that, but she had years and years before I was born to act that way.   And I guess right now, it’s my turn to act that way and I feel like she’s taking it so I have to act responsible.  Not that I don’t already, but…still.

And then I feel like all the morals she’s tried to thrust on me all my life don’t seem to matter anymore.  If she doesn’t follow them, then why should I?  They obviously don’t matter enough for her to stick to them.  And today, Alexa said, “I hate my life; I wish I would just die.”  Because, of course, my mother was ignoring her, which she shouldn’t do, but Alexa also shouldn’t complain so much.  And my mother said that she should not say that and that she was being disrespectful to God who gave her that life.

Since when, though, did we rely on religion to get us through anything?  We’re “Catholic.”  We haven’t gone to church regularly since I was in maybe third grade.  That was about ten years ago.  And we stopped.  And my parents grew apart.  The last time I actually went to church may have been at my Uncle Leo’s funeral about a year ago.  So when the family falls apart and everyone’s miserable, my mother turns to God, but otherwise, she doesn’t follow any of what Catholics are supposed to do or be.  She doesn’t turn to God in the face of divorce.  She doesn’t turn to God when her kids are miserable.  She turns to God so that she can make her kid feel guilty so that she’ll leave her alone.  I think that’s awful.

Anyway, what is religion to kids who don’t have parental influence in their lives?  I don’t know who or what God is.  I want to believe that there’s a Heaven, and it’s amazing, and that as long as you’re sorry for whatever wrong you’ve done, you’ll go there.  Truly remorseful.  And you’ll pay for it if you haven’t already, but you’ll eventually go to Heaven.  And you’ll see everyone you love, and it will be comforting to you, and you won’t have to worry about anything.  All the animals are there, too.  And no one is superior to anyone else, because that is how the world is supposed to be.  I believe that you get a “last chance” after you’ve died to be sorry if you weren’t already when you’re died, because I think that…if you aren’t, then Hell is just the absence of existence.  You’re wiped from a chance at eternal happiness.  You just don’t exist anymore.  I think that’s the worst fate.  I think that Catholicism is stupid and I love gay people and I love animals and I think that the separation between different sects defeats the purpose of religion.

Charles and I talked about religion once.  I told him my views and then asked him his opinion on everything.  He said that he is agnostic.  I find that this is perhaps the most open-minded view.  Not really accepting or rejecting anything.  I find that atheism is just as narrow-minded as choosing a specific religion.  It’s not for the hopeless or the angry.  It’s just for the skeptical, mathematical beings.  I don’t think I’m ready to be skeptical about an afterlife.

All day today, I read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.  I’m not done.  I know what happens.  Don’t tell me.  But when I’m done, do expect a post about it.  I am quite the Potterhead.

I saw Phelan for a minute or so, too, right before he left, and his mother.  I am such an awkward being.  I’m always a deer in the headlights with social things.

Speaking of Headlights, I am in a very Headlights mood.  For my birthday, I received from Derek “Kill Them With Kindness,” along with The Perks of Being a Wallflower and Nothing Feels Good.  And the album has grown on me very much.  It just caps off a bad day, or a bad week.

Aside from family matters, I was also approached by my English teacher about an in-class essay I wrote.  It was too informal.  She even termed my voice as inappropriate.  For some reason, being reprimanded always makes me uneasy to the extent of being upset.  I always try to carry myself as an appropriate person, and I feel that I write well (this post is REALLAY bad because it’s so sentimental).  I think I just made a mistake, nothing too awful.  I only used the wrong voice.  And my English teacher is thus far my favourite, so I felt ashamed that I’d gotten off to such a bad start with her.  I mean, she’s vibrant, she makes Shakespeare interesting, and she knows what I’m about to go through as a wannabe English major.  I think what mostly upset me was when she pulled me out of my Calc class to talk to me.   She said that I’m new, so she’d give me another chance, and that she wished I’d speak up in class, and she even sensed that I was upset, so she willed me not to cry.  And I think that’s what made me teeter so delicately between tears and control for the rest of the period.  She cared enough to know that it’s hard for me to settle in, which touched me to no end (even my mother doesn’t understand me that well), but I feel bad–I don’t want special treatment just because I’m enduring something that the other kids aren’t (a move, a separation of parents, a whole shift of equilibrium).  And that she asked me to speak up in class kind of stabbed me a little.  I know she meant it as I’m smart and she wants to hear what I have to say, not as an attack on my personality, but I can’t even speak up enough to say, “Yo, I am socially anxious,” partially because it would be irrelevant, and then people would treat me awkwardly and gingerly.  It doesn’t really fit in; I have to tough it out and I can’t use it as an excuse for everything.  Almost no one knows.  And then having all this emotional baggage, people already treat me delicately and distantly because they figure I’m probably stupid as shit because I never talk.  I don’t talk in any of my classes, at least not my core classes.  Kids like Jordan approach me in Study Hall, so I’ve just started conversing with them.  And I talk to the girls in art a little, but they probably figure that I’m a senior and wouldn’t like to be bothered.  Little do they know that I always make younger friends.  Think of how out of place I’ll be at college.  I’ll have to get a job with high school kids just to keep myself in check.  Seriously.

The easy solution would be to start talking to people, of course, right and left.  But I’ve already established myself as the same extremely reserved girl as I was at Deep Run, which blows, but at Deep Run, they’d already accepted me as that way since elementary school, and it wasn’t something they hadn’t seen before.  I was just “another shy girl,” and they left me to it because at least I had all sorts of friends.  But in Lewisburg, everyone knows each other, so there’s no room to be shy.  I’m the extreme, and no one is used to it.  I guess they think I’m just adjusting, but going to school is like walking into a panic attack.  It doesn’t help that everyone thinks that Rachael and I are twins, that I am a freshman, or that Rachael is older than me.  I don’t really know what I’m getting at.

I suppose another part of my misery is Rilo Kiley.  The Spin Magazine article says it all.

I pose some questions about this to Lewis when I get her alone at Sennett’s.  She holds a sparkler that Sennett has just lit.  “I think I realized that [Rabbit Fur Coat] is the kind of music I want to be making,” she says.  “I guess it’s just about the freedom to do whatever I want.  Like, if I wanted to come out and play a new song that I had written–just me and an acoustic guitar–I could do that.  I can’t do that within Rilo Kiley, because it’s a band.”  So, does she see herself continuing with Rilo Kiley?  The sparkler has burned out.  “I honestly don’t know.”

Later, Boesel tells me it’s something that has crossed all of their minds: Will their breakthrough record be their last gasp as a band?  He discusses this in a relaxed manner, as though he wouldn’t mind, and keeps strumming on his guitar.  Before I leave that night, de Reeder and Sennett show me a mock-up for a potential cover of the new album, featuring a photo of the band members looking at one another.  Lewis, in a conversation with Sennett and me a few days after the barbecue, concedes, “It’s an uncomfortable shot in a lot of ways.  The whole concept of the record is–I don’t know if you know this, Blake–it’s kind of based on our relationship.  Because it’s not as it appears.  It’s not always pretty.  When you put things under a blacklight, you see these things.”

“It’s not always ugly, though,” Sennett responds.

“No,” she says softly.”  “Things just look different.”

With the demise of my favourite teenagehood band comes the demise of my teenagehood, I think.  Perhaps I am being forced to grow up prematurely.  I never got to see them live, though.  That would have made my life.

For now, I’m listening to Death Cab and Headlights to tide me over.  Tomorrow, I will do a good fun post, since I haven’t done one in a while.  PROMISE.  It will be about King Lear and muzak and friends.


3 Comments so far
Leave a comment

eep….call me when you finish hp7?
and i wish things were going better for you up there.. i’m glad your english teacher is attempting to understand, but i hope she find the right way to do so..? let me know when you’re coming back down here. i miss you!

Comment by divya

sry i didn’t write more before- i was at school and didn’t want to get in trouble.

anyway. i’m sorry things suck so much. and i really miss you. it’s a little bit empty here without you. and i wish you were down here for many many reasons but another one just hit me- you’re like the best person i know at french tied with maybe brian but it would rock so much if i could attempt to talk in french with you because i know you know how to speak it properly and i know i’d learn a lot from just talking to you in french. but no i don’t just wish you were here so my french will improve. i miss you cause it’s just really strange here without you :( but i thought you might like to know that i think you kick butt.

Comment by divya

So I’m not your friend?

That excerpt at the end reminded me of that thing where the samurai dash at each other, pass, and then stand there. Then one dies. Or maybe that scene in the 3rd Matrix Movie where they finally make it to the robot city but the chick is dead.

Abandon is a delicious noun.

More serious talk laterz?

Comment by wut?!

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