(no subject)
I started this summer pretty modestly. I had a lot of goals. I wanted to find an apartment for the school year, get an internship, keep my job, make new friends, be able to run a mile without stopping, and be done with therapy. However, the eternal pessimist in me (I imagine a small man seated atop my limbic system, or perhaps astride the sella turcica) made sure that I didn't get too hopeful. I started out the summer with an extremely bad attitude, augmented by the fact that Scott left for Turkey without me. I had been figuring that a trip to Turkey was my only shot at greatness.
As soon as Scott's plane left the ground--or at least, as soon as I got off my ass and stopped crying the next day--I started hanging out with a new group of people. By the time Scott got back, I actually had friends. I can even say this in the present tense: I have friends. I have them, like little Hopi dolls. They're mine with no down payment, no monthly interest rates, and no hidden fees. And things snowballed from there. I can run a mile without stopping, and I write this having just returned to my parents' house from my brand-spanking-new apartment. I'm done with therapy and I've lined up not one but two awesome internship opportunities.
This summer has been more important than I can capture in words. Three years ago, my dad got shot. My dad got shot and Scott kept doing heavy drugs and I fell apart quietly. With the 20/20 of hindsight--and not to mention the corrective lens of therapy--I can now analyze this. I fell apart quietly because I felt that I didn't deserve anything more dramatic. My behaviors can be mapped clinically, attributed to varying levels of neurotransmitters, shelved. But these things aren't important. What I really want is to impress upon you how important this summer has been. Three years ago, Regina Spektor released an album. This summer, she released another. Three years ago, we went to New York so that my dad could make appearances on The Today Show and Larry King Live. This summer, we went to New York to celebrate a wedding and tool around Niagara Falls. I want these examples to be able to explain it. My life has come full circle. My life is fine. My life is finally fine. Or if it is not yet fine, at least it is not fucking blindfolded in a dark room with a hunting knife at its throat. My life is cautiously experiencing the sunshine. My life is putting on spf 25 and getting a bit of a tan. My life is smiling at the cute lifeguard and planning to go for a swim.
Scott and I moved in together. We have an apartment and blankets. We have a Wii, spoons, bowls, and lots of decorative paraphernalia. We enjoy going out on the balcony. I like to strip off Scott's pants in the night, before we lay our blankets on the floor. I like to strip off Scott's pants in the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom as well. I don't need help out of my pants because I never wear pants.
As soon as Scott's plane left the ground--or at least, as soon as I got off my ass and stopped crying the next day--I started hanging out with a new group of people. By the time Scott got back, I actually had friends. I can even say this in the present tense: I have friends. I have them, like little Hopi dolls. They're mine with no down payment, no monthly interest rates, and no hidden fees. And things snowballed from there. I can run a mile without stopping, and I write this having just returned to my parents' house from my brand-spanking-new apartment. I'm done with therapy and I've lined up not one but two awesome internship opportunities.
This summer has been more important than I can capture in words. Three years ago, my dad got shot. My dad got shot and Scott kept doing heavy drugs and I fell apart quietly. With the 20/20 of hindsight--and not to mention the corrective lens of therapy--I can now analyze this. I fell apart quietly because I felt that I didn't deserve anything more dramatic. My behaviors can be mapped clinically, attributed to varying levels of neurotransmitters, shelved. But these things aren't important. What I really want is to impress upon you how important this summer has been. Three years ago, Regina Spektor released an album. This summer, she released another. Three years ago, we went to New York so that my dad could make appearances on The Today Show and Larry King Live. This summer, we went to New York to celebrate a wedding and tool around Niagara Falls. I want these examples to be able to explain it. My life has come full circle. My life is fine. My life is finally fine. Or if it is not yet fine, at least it is not fucking blindfolded in a dark room with a hunting knife at its throat. My life is cautiously experiencing the sunshine. My life is putting on spf 25 and getting a bit of a tan. My life is smiling at the cute lifeguard and planning to go for a swim.
Scott and I moved in together. We have an apartment and blankets. We have a Wii, spoons, bowls, and lots of decorative paraphernalia. We enjoy going out on the balcony. I like to strip off Scott's pants in the night, before we lay our blankets on the floor. I like to strip off Scott's pants in the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom as well. I don't need help out of my pants because I never wear pants.