Last Days in San Diego.
My head says not to worry, my heart says this is chaos.
Boxes are beginning to appear. Moving boxes are stacking up in various corners of the house as my stepmother moves about quietly, trying to create as little disruption as possible. She's trying to make a clean cut. What she doesn't understand is that her moving out 2 days before my dad returns from vacation is probably doing more bad than good. Her attempt at a clean cut is actually throwing salt on a festering wound. A wound so large that it's beginning to infect everyone near it. I can't stand the thought of my father in any more pain. He calls the house the other night in the wee hours of the morning from Buffalo, New York (where it's even later): "I can't sleep. I keep thinking about home. I thought I would call the house and speak to whoever answered." If you know my father, you know this doesn't sound like him. I've never seen him more emotionally vulnerable. He's hurt.
At least let the guy enjoy his vacation. Don't call him up while he's in the middle of it saying, "oh hey Mike, by the time you get back my kids and I will be moved out. So long." What would you think if you recieved that call? Wouldn't you just want to go home and take care of matters there? Way to fuck up a much-needed vacation for a man who works his fucking ass off for the livelihood of those he loves.
My initial feelings of angers towards Denise have come flooding back. She's a child. She has even admitted that when faced with conflict her instinct is to run away from it. What mature adult does that? She's so dilluted. What she doesn't realize is that running from her problems doesn't make them go away, it only makes them worse. As my friend Nick Temple said, she's hurting everyone around her including her kids. She's showing them that this is how to cope with things when the going gets tough. No wonder so many adults in this world are emotionally fucked: it's hereditary.
My head says not to worry, my heart says this is chaos.
On top of all this, some people that I held dear and have trusted over the years have changed. I understand it's in our nature to change -- it's the way of the organism to move, grow, adapt and evolve. But what about trust? What about loyalty to friends during times of hardship? Some people can be so fucking self-centered that they can't see beyond their own life of consumption. It pisses me off to no end. I feel alone in this tiny little world of San Diego, where the dominant culture is to be obsessed with yourself. I'm no angel. I'm just as guilty as the next person of being self-oriented. But there's some things I will not compromise, namely my devotion to my friends. I love the people in my life, and with that love comes my trust. It's yours until you break it.
Some people have disappointed me lately. That's bound to happen. Having faith in people is having faith in an imperfect system; in a selfish organism that at its most fundamental level is concerned with its own survival. Not to say we humans aren't capable of altruism or unselfish acts. But why should I bother with you if you won't even make the effort?
My world here is topsy-turvy, and I've got a slamming headache because of it. I wanna get medicated, but I'm too broke to buy anything.
I just want stability in my life. I wanna be able to come "home" from school and have a stable environment that invites me in and embraces me as the son who's been away for far too long. I want the protective womb of a house and parents who love eachother, with my brothers and my dog. I want to call them in the wee hours of the morning in my time of need, not vice-versa. So many pretty things that were once alive now seem pale and colorless.
Call me emo, a downer, depressed or whatever. But this is how I feel, and things are not okay. The sun has gone down on the day before Denise's move. The house is half-empty with photos of my dad and Denise still in frames on the wall. My dad will come home to a house that's without the woman he loves, and the only people remaining will be those that will never abandon him: his children.
My life is turned upside down here. Within 2 weeks I'll be returning to Berkeley to finish my last year of school as an undergrad. This place will continue to crumble behind me, and I shed a tear for those I love that must remain here to witness it. It's not fair to my father, it's not fair to my brothers. They have wanted to be happy, and they have wanted it for so long. I love them, but even my love isn't great enough to prevent this collapse.
I'm not sure where life will take me next. My job now is to finish this last year of school, and to do so with dignity and honor. I've worked hard for that. I may be going into the Peace Corps shortly after graduation, or possibly spending more time on music. We'll see. I've got my work cut out for me right now.
As far as San Diego, I don't know when I'll be back here again in body, mind or spirit. This is a place of disappointment and sadness for me. I may be back for the holidays to see some dear faces, but my home is elsewhere now.
Love,
Nick
Boxes are beginning to appear. Moving boxes are stacking up in various corners of the house as my stepmother moves about quietly, trying to create as little disruption as possible. She's trying to make a clean cut. What she doesn't understand is that her moving out 2 days before my dad returns from vacation is probably doing more bad than good. Her attempt at a clean cut is actually throwing salt on a festering wound. A wound so large that it's beginning to infect everyone near it. I can't stand the thought of my father in any more pain. He calls the house the other night in the wee hours of the morning from Buffalo, New York (where it's even later): "I can't sleep. I keep thinking about home. I thought I would call the house and speak to whoever answered." If you know my father, you know this doesn't sound like him. I've never seen him more emotionally vulnerable. He's hurt.
At least let the guy enjoy his vacation. Don't call him up while he's in the middle of it saying, "oh hey Mike, by the time you get back my kids and I will be moved out. So long." What would you think if you recieved that call? Wouldn't you just want to go home and take care of matters there? Way to fuck up a much-needed vacation for a man who works his fucking ass off for the livelihood of those he loves.
My initial feelings of angers towards Denise have come flooding back. She's a child. She has even admitted that when faced with conflict her instinct is to run away from it. What mature adult does that? She's so dilluted. What she doesn't realize is that running from her problems doesn't make them go away, it only makes them worse. As my friend Nick Temple said, she's hurting everyone around her including her kids. She's showing them that this is how to cope with things when the going gets tough. No wonder so many adults in this world are emotionally fucked: it's hereditary.
My head says not to worry, my heart says this is chaos.
On top of all this, some people that I held dear and have trusted over the years have changed. I understand it's in our nature to change -- it's the way of the organism to move, grow, adapt and evolve. But what about trust? What about loyalty to friends during times of hardship? Some people can be so fucking self-centered that they can't see beyond their own life of consumption. It pisses me off to no end. I feel alone in this tiny little world of San Diego, where the dominant culture is to be obsessed with yourself. I'm no angel. I'm just as guilty as the next person of being self-oriented. But there's some things I will not compromise, namely my devotion to my friends. I love the people in my life, and with that love comes my trust. It's yours until you break it.
Some people have disappointed me lately. That's bound to happen. Having faith in people is having faith in an imperfect system; in a selfish organism that at its most fundamental level is concerned with its own survival. Not to say we humans aren't capable of altruism or unselfish acts. But why should I bother with you if you won't even make the effort?
My world here is topsy-turvy, and I've got a slamming headache because of it. I wanna get medicated, but I'm too broke to buy anything.
I just want stability in my life. I wanna be able to come "home" from school and have a stable environment that invites me in and embraces me as the son who's been away for far too long. I want the protective womb of a house and parents who love eachother, with my brothers and my dog. I want to call them in the wee hours of the morning in my time of need, not vice-versa. So many pretty things that were once alive now seem pale and colorless.
Call me emo, a downer, depressed or whatever. But this is how I feel, and things are not okay. The sun has gone down on the day before Denise's move. The house is half-empty with photos of my dad and Denise still in frames on the wall. My dad will come home to a house that's without the woman he loves, and the only people remaining will be those that will never abandon him: his children.
My life is turned upside down here. Within 2 weeks I'll be returning to Berkeley to finish my last year of school as an undergrad. This place will continue to crumble behind me, and I shed a tear for those I love that must remain here to witness it. It's not fair to my father, it's not fair to my brothers. They have wanted to be happy, and they have wanted it for so long. I love them, but even my love isn't great enough to prevent this collapse.
I'm not sure where life will take me next. My job now is to finish this last year of school, and to do so with dignity and honor. I've worked hard for that. I may be going into the Peace Corps shortly after graduation, or possibly spending more time on music. We'll see. I've got my work cut out for me right now.
As far as San Diego, I don't know when I'll be back here again in body, mind or spirit. This is a place of disappointment and sadness for me. I may be back for the holidays to see some dear faces, but my home is elsewhere now.
Love,
Nick