Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Bethlehem, family, Lehigh Valley, Pennsylvania
I haven’t updated in forever, I know.
Here’s what’s been happening.
My grandmother is a bitch. She hates me only because I am my mother’s child, and my parents are divorced and me and my siblings all chose to live with our mother. This means she also hates that I’m vegan and hates most every fiber of my being. It’s not fun because if I lash out at her, I’ll get kicked out of the family tree, I think. I am nonconfrontational and I’m also especially shy in the presence of elders, but over the two or three days I had to see her this past week, I came very close to exploding at her.
Oh, and for Thanksgiving, I went to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania instead of home. I lived in Bethlehem for the most important parts of my child development or whatever. I can’t navigate around to save my life, but I am familiar with it, to a certain extent. And while Bethlehem always reminds me of sunny spring afternoons spent on the playground in our green, beautiful back yard, when I’m there now, I feel most out of place. Bethlehem and actually most of the Lehigh Valley consists of two categories: Old People and a few Disillusioned Young People Who Are Out Of Touch With Reality. In Bethlehem, I am expected to be a proper Catholic girl. I can’t be an agnostic creepazoid who loves most erryone for some different reason. Bethlehem isn’t any fun for me because of this. Also, I can’t make eyes at anyone there because there is nobody to make eyes at. Richmond, there are ten million people to make eyes at anywhere you go. Lotsa young people like me. Bethlehem, there are not many young people, and the few young people there are not people I want to associate with generally. They can’t appreciate my music, my literature, my style of talking or dressing. I have a Lehigh Valley accent (whateeeever that is), but I don’t call people gay or retarded as an insult, for one. So I’m one-of-a-kind there, but I’m also so very alone. So lonely. It’s the pits too because whenever I feel inspired to meet someone new or make eyes at someone, I have to go to Bethlehem.
I was, however, in Lewisburg for less than twenty-four hours. Let me tell you how it was in one word. Overwhelming. Ten people in my house at once. Not very calm. That was an enormously busy day, and I slept heavily that night on the couch. What am I going to do over winter break?! I have no room! I will have no privacy ever again! This thought is frustrating because I so rarely have privacy here at school.
Also, finals are next week, so every time I’ve sat down to write, I’ve been distracted. I’ll post music soon.
Filed under: Music, My Experience with Existence | Tags: Bethlehem, Jenny Lewis, The Postal Service
School is a bitch.
Yesterday was Rachael’s sixteenth birthday. Derek dubbed it Satan Day, since he refers to her as Satan and there is a six in her age this year. And coincidentally, there was a fire at Deep Run on her birthday in a boys’ bathroom. Of course, I wasn’t there or anything, but you know that was the work of Satan. As in, it was the work of Rachael. My sister.
You’d think the people who are in my life right now would try and understand what’s going on. But it seems like the people from my six-months-ago past and the people who are slowly seeping into my life now are the ones who really get it. When Liz went through the KFC drive-thru over break, lo and behold! my childhood best friend was working the window. But I hadn’t seen her in years, so I said nothing, and she couldn’t see me in the darkness of the passenger seat, anyway.
I change so much, though, that no one would recognize me if it wasn’t for forced family gatherings. It’s too weird going back to Bethlehem now. All these old people who say, “I haven’t seen you since you were this high! Do you remember me?!” All expectantly. Of course I don’t remember them. I’m seventeen now and they’re dying. They’ve missed my most awkward stages, and now I just kind of sit there and don’t say much because I can feel the tension. And it’s because my parents are separated. They now hate my mom, and I look just like her and I chose to live with her. My paternal grandmother skirted around the issue by saying that I look just like my Aunt Katie, who is my mom’s sister. And because of these attitudes, I wear my looks like a badge of pride. When we went to Main Street with my maternal Grandmom, two old family friends said that I looked just like her, just like Grandmom, just like Patty, my mom. Relaying that to my dad’s mother, it made me think of the way Erika thumped her chest when someone asked if I was her friend. Damn straight. I am my mother’s child.
I do not know what my resolution is yet. But I do know that I would like this.
Be Still My Heart | The Postal Service
I am also nervous for tomorrow, when Derek will listen to the song that reminds me of him. Haha. I get so defensive of music, especially in the presence of people whose opinions I care about.
INDIEchouette 