on the yucatan
it gets wierder and wierder.
this morning, a pest inspection,
because our house has finally sold.
to a couple of fucking cops.
and it took six months, against all odds and predictions. because nobody wants this hunk of shit! except a couple of cops, figures.
it makes me wonder if people can sense, all the bad energy and bad times in this house. i certainly didnt like it when we got here, none of us did. but we took it because we could. i can remember being 7, and sitting on the windowsill with my mom on moving day, the rooms all empty, eating a burrito almost exactly eleven years ago. and thinking 'this is my house now' and being kind of scared. i wonder what is wrong with this place. ive sometimes been sure there was someone in here with me when there just wasn't, and we often joke about it being on ancient indian burial ground, for all the bad luck its brought, but its not very funny.
and now this 'selling the house' stuff, its turned from just a task to be done, into an endless saga, an era, a constant source of annoyance, and stress and anxiety and now its ending. and im SAD about it, what the fuck? and i know its because its all ending. and because i have to think about how much time here has been wasted, or sad and lonely. and the worst thing of all, is that i'll be almost 19 by the time i move out, which was never the plan at all. i can't believe we lived in this fucking mansion for eleven years, [thats what my gramma said when she came to visit, "its a mansion!"] and we lived in the lap of luxury but we were all too miserable to notice. and when we were younger, even now, but especially then, we were so wrapped up in what everybody else had. which is just such a waste of energy. but it made me feel poor, and ugly, and really uncool, when i couldnt do what other kids did, and i couldnt look the way they did. that i didnt HAVE an allowance, so i couldnt GO to the movies. and i couldt shop at the MALL, i got to go to 'seedlings and sprouts' twice a year and buy $2 sweatpants to wear to school. now ive pretty much gotten over that stuff, but i still have this residual jealousy. "oh HIS parents hand him everything on a silver platter." "well SHE'S never worked a day in her life", and its all so riciulous because i know logically that 2,000 people a minute could say the same thing about me.
sort of.
im really confused about where i stand. do i even have a right to be talking about this stuff? i live in fucking marin county, right? i have lots of toys and food and i got to have a car for a while and im probably the most self-indulgent person i know, when i want something i go get it. but i wonder, ive been in this strange town so long, where it seems like everybody gets what they want all the time, that i think my views have been severely distorted. and i have this stupid idea that i deserve all that when i really dont. why should anyone come into anything without working for it? when am i going to stop being such a fucking baby and start working for something until i get it? hopefully all this will change in july when i go to school, but im scared that i wont know how to keep going. that im going to end up quitting, like i always quit everything. because its too hard. and id rather hide in my house with as little human contact as possible, and my ridiculous computer addiction, and something to chew on.
and im worried, i see my mom and the way she deals with money, and i know ill be just like her if i ever come into any the way she has. and i know its because once you've been living at a certain pace, its hard to come back down. we cant afford half the things we do, but we do them anyway because we dont know how not to. im already acting like her, im splurging away my savings on coffee and cigarettes and dresses and concerts and trinkets when i know i can't be doing that anymore, but i cant stop. consumerism is such a fucking addiction. and living beyond your means is such a taught lifestyle. she tells me that her father was the king of all that, and now shes the duchess and im going to be the little idiot who hasnt learned anything at all, and lives on a cloud of credit card debt and munipulation and alcoholism and agorophobic isolation. god, what am i even talking about? who knew moving was such a muddy emotional mess.
when we lived in santa barbara in that tiny two bedroom apartment, it seemed big to me because i didnt know any different. even though we had to share a wall with that crazy woman, and we would hear her screaming at her girl and slapping her around, i thought we had it made cuz there was a pool and lots of walls everywhere to play handball on. and when we moved to novato and i had my own bedroom, i was scared being so alone all the time. i didn't LIKE it very much, because it wasn't like usual. and then i got used to it, and then i couldnt live without it. now im going into a situation where im most likely going to have to give up all that privacy that i rely on so much, and a lot of these things that i take for granted, here in wonderful beautiful novato. and ill be living with rachel, who, bless her soul, is so tight with her money you could.. i dunno, insert some stupid reference to money and butts and tightness. and its probably going to rub off. its going to be so different. and im going to have to tell myself that its santa barbara, and pretend i don't know any better, and forget about everyone who can do whatever they want, and forget that i dont know how to do this shit, and just fucking DO it. which seems so obvious, but its just hard. to change your brain.
this morning, a pest inspection,
because our house has finally sold.
to a couple of fucking cops.
and it took six months, against all odds and predictions. because nobody wants this hunk of shit! except a couple of cops, figures.
it makes me wonder if people can sense, all the bad energy and bad times in this house. i certainly didnt like it when we got here, none of us did. but we took it because we could. i can remember being 7, and sitting on the windowsill with my mom on moving day, the rooms all empty, eating a burrito almost exactly eleven years ago. and thinking 'this is my house now' and being kind of scared. i wonder what is wrong with this place. ive sometimes been sure there was someone in here with me when there just wasn't, and we often joke about it being on ancient indian burial ground, for all the bad luck its brought, but its not very funny.
and now this 'selling the house' stuff, its turned from just a task to be done, into an endless saga, an era, a constant source of annoyance, and stress and anxiety and now its ending. and im SAD about it, what the fuck? and i know its because its all ending. and because i have to think about how much time here has been wasted, or sad and lonely. and the worst thing of all, is that i'll be almost 19 by the time i move out, which was never the plan at all. i can't believe we lived in this fucking mansion for eleven years, [thats what my gramma said when she came to visit, "its a mansion!"] and we lived in the lap of luxury but we were all too miserable to notice. and when we were younger, even now, but especially then, we were so wrapped up in what everybody else had. which is just such a waste of energy. but it made me feel poor, and ugly, and really uncool, when i couldnt do what other kids did, and i couldnt look the way they did. that i didnt HAVE an allowance, so i couldnt GO to the movies. and i couldt shop at the MALL, i got to go to 'seedlings and sprouts' twice a year and buy $2 sweatpants to wear to school. now ive pretty much gotten over that stuff, but i still have this residual jealousy. "oh HIS parents hand him everything on a silver platter." "well SHE'S never worked a day in her life", and its all so riciulous because i know logically that 2,000 people a minute could say the same thing about me.
sort of.
im really confused about where i stand. do i even have a right to be talking about this stuff? i live in fucking marin county, right? i have lots of toys and food and i got to have a car for a while and im probably the most self-indulgent person i know, when i want something i go get it. but i wonder, ive been in this strange town so long, where it seems like everybody gets what they want all the time, that i think my views have been severely distorted. and i have this stupid idea that i deserve all that when i really dont. why should anyone come into anything without working for it? when am i going to stop being such a fucking baby and start working for something until i get it? hopefully all this will change in july when i go to school, but im scared that i wont know how to keep going. that im going to end up quitting, like i always quit everything. because its too hard. and id rather hide in my house with as little human contact as possible, and my ridiculous computer addiction, and something to chew on.
and im worried, i see my mom and the way she deals with money, and i know ill be just like her if i ever come into any the way she has. and i know its because once you've been living at a certain pace, its hard to come back down. we cant afford half the things we do, but we do them anyway because we dont know how not to. im already acting like her, im splurging away my savings on coffee and cigarettes and dresses and concerts and trinkets when i know i can't be doing that anymore, but i cant stop. consumerism is such a fucking addiction. and living beyond your means is such a taught lifestyle. she tells me that her father was the king of all that, and now shes the duchess and im going to be the little idiot who hasnt learned anything at all, and lives on a cloud of credit card debt and munipulation and alcoholism and agorophobic isolation. god, what am i even talking about? who knew moving was such a muddy emotional mess.
when we lived in santa barbara in that tiny two bedroom apartment, it seemed big to me because i didnt know any different. even though we had to share a wall with that crazy woman, and we would hear her screaming at her girl and slapping her around, i thought we had it made cuz there was a pool and lots of walls everywhere to play handball on. and when we moved to novato and i had my own bedroom, i was scared being so alone all the time. i didn't LIKE it very much, because it wasn't like usual. and then i got used to it, and then i couldnt live without it. now im going into a situation where im most likely going to have to give up all that privacy that i rely on so much, and a lot of these things that i take for granted, here in wonderful beautiful novato. and ill be living with rachel, who, bless her soul, is so tight with her money you could.. i dunno, insert some stupid reference to money and butts and tightness. and its probably going to rub off. its going to be so different. and im going to have to tell myself that its santa barbara, and pretend i don't know any better, and forget about everyone who can do whatever they want, and forget that i dont know how to do this shit, and just fucking DO it. which seems so obvious, but its just hard. to change your brain.