When You've Got Nothing, You've Got Nothing to Lose
Long overdue update.
The reason for me putting off the updates is mainly due to the whiney, "pity me, my life sucks" nature of how they would have read. I'm hormonal, I'm bitchy, I'm cranky, and I'm really pissed off. But you already knew that.
And I've been experiencing many changes. Very rapid changes, which I'm not ready to accept yet.
My bank failed July 2. I have to close out my accounts because I'm not going to be living in this area forever. I need to put my money in a bigger bank. But all banks are susceptible to failure, so I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do. Right now, I'm thinking it would be best to throw everything into Bank of America. I did not want to do that a year ago because my Founders savings account earned so much more interest. I think Bank of America's savings earns .25%, while Founders earns .5% But right now, that really doesn't matter all that much to me. I got a 10 cent (monthly) interest payment last month from BoA, and a $9.17 (quarterly) interest payment from Founders. It's so minimal, it doesn't make a difference. So I'll probably close my account tomorrow or Tuesday. I feel rotten. :(
Speaking of which, I had a root canal Friday. I can survive a root canal. I've felt absolutely no pain since the third novocaine shot (ugh, those are bitches. I can't stand novocaine). However, my dentist says that he's "not real optimistic about [the] tooth." I guess there was a lot of hemorrhaging he couldn't control, and he speculated that there was so much bone damage done, that the tooth may not survive.
Fuck. It's likely that I'm going to have a tooth pulled. And I'm 20. What 20 year old needs a permanent tooth pulled? I have friends who had accidents and teeth fell out. But, a tooth getting pulled? From decay? It's not like I didn't brush. That's what I keep telling myself. It was rotting from beneath the gum--for a good year or so. But it didn't get looked at soon enough. And I want to blame him for that. Because he wouldn't let me get a cleaning when I asked to back in the summer of 08. But this is my fault. The bad luck of getting something stuck in there, the not going to the dentist mid-2008 because I SHOULD have, the not going during school when he gave me permission. Fuck. It's my fault. But I'm going to get it taken care of, before it spreads to the rest of my teeth. It makes me so sad, though. I might I'm very likely going to lose a permanent tooth. I'll never get it back. It's not like hair that grows back. It's gone. It's a part of me, and it's rotting inside out. It's like a cancer, except it won't kill me. And worst of all, I feel like a friggen hick. A lazy hick who doesn't brush or doesn't have dental insurance. A fucking toothless wonder. God, this sucks.
The only good thing about my fucked up tooth is that because my body is trying to push it out, it's changed my bite, slightly. And because of that, my front teeth don't meet like they used to, which makes it impossible to bite my nails. So I'm growing long, pretty Librizzi nails. I never realized how strong they were. I've just got to keep up with them, because they get pretty sharp.
Dad disappeared a short while ago. Without a fucking goodbye. I knew where he was, but I was so angry and I felt so abandoned that I didn't call him to rip him a new one. We've talked once (today, more about that in a minute) in two whole months. And I'm getting closer to realizing that he just doesn't want anything to do with me or the girls anymore. If I were a psychology major, I'd be a bit more curious as to what the fuck is going on in his head, but since I'm not, I don't give a shit. The way he has treated me in the past two years is bloody insulting and I'm so ashamed to call myself his daughter. I'm ashamed of this last name. I feel terrible when I go to parties and events and people ask how he's doing--and the way they look at me, like I'm his. I'm this spawn of him. It makes me feel disgusting and cancerous and evil. I've been told that I shouldn't be comparing myself to my parents. That I shouldn't even worry about them. That doesn't even seem to make a difference, though. Because when I talk to his family about how pissed off I am about him (and they are too), they talk about how my mother is "no better." That she did all these things that he did, like move back in with her parents. And sometimes she didn't put us first. And she isn't "the Mom of the Year" either. So... because I'm talking about my father, we talk about my mother too? I don't see how she is relevant to them at all. She's nothing to them, and vice versa. Why must they keep bringing her up in conversation when what she does is no concern of theirs? Yes, I admit she made mistakes. But first of all, they don't compare to his. She didn't go out of her way to push us away and make us feel horrible. Secondly, we're talking about dad. Leave her out of it. I hate their fucking holier-than-thou attitude about... fuck, about everything. They have to justify their problems and mistakes by bringing up problems of others that a) are of a completely different magnitude, and b) that are not relevant in the slightest. They all frustrate me to no friggin end.
In more exciting news, Nana sold the house. Which I'm absolutely thrilled about. She couldn't keep up with it anymore. And it was too big for her. And it was like this family magnet. It practically had a huge, neon sign above it: "If you're in trouble, come back to live at Nana's!" She's going to be 65. She doesn't need that. So it's sold. Surprisingly, for between $300 and $350,000. I don't know the exact price it sold for, but I know that she was never going to drop the price on that place. It's sold to a single 31-year-old police officer (perfect for that neighborhood, which is composed almost entirely of Chicago cops and firefighters). And of course, Dad is pissed. Not because he's kicked out too, but because a young, single, SUCCESSFUL person (i.e. not him) can afford a $300,000+ home. Maybe he saved for it. Maybe he didn't fuck up his life chasing after women (MARRIED women at that). Maybe he was just lucky. Who cares? It's done. Now shut up and grow up.
Where do I come in? I live there too, obviously. I mean, I haven't been living there, but it's my permanent address. And all my shit is there. And I have a lot of shit... It runs in the family, collecting does. So, I've got a lot of clearing out to do. Which doesn't seem so bad. I mean, I've basically been living out of the Civic since we moved to Frankfort in 07. Anything else I can live without, right?
Easier said than done. Kids books, I think I can part with those. My statues and mini-busts, yeah I can do that too. But... 75% of everything I own? Dad talked about getting rid of his music. All of those albums... I can't even fathom it. He told me to check around town for used music stores and used book stores to see if I can get anything for them. All of my books? All of my CDs? I know that material possessions are meaningless in the end and you reach enlightenment or whatever when you overlook them, but I'm just not ready yet. I'm not ready to let go.
Some friends brought something new to my attention, though. If I let these things go, not only am I lightening my baggage, but I'm allowing myself to be free of the past. I no longer have to think about it. I can finally start fresh. But I'm not so sure I know what that means. Where do I draw the line between what I want to keep in my life and what I want to leave behind?
Okay, so there is my "stuff" dilemma. But next, and most importantly, where do I go? Dad and whoreface, I mean Becky, are going to Lydia's in Ashton. I don't even know if I'm welcome there. And I don't think I want to live with them. With everything they have put me through and everything they represent, I can't see myself living with them ever again. Nana says I'm welcome to live with her. She's looking at this retirement community... in Frankfort. It's perfect for her. She doesn't need to do outdoor maintenance ever again, and it's so much smaller. But it's not right for me. I can't live in Frankfort again. It's so far from everything. And I'm not sure if I'm welcome there either. Not by her, but by the community.
So that leaves Bob's and Mom's.
I honestly do sense that I've overstayed my welcome. It isn't the same here as it was a year ago. I know that they love me here, but it's just not working. It's not that I don't appreciate the home that they've given me, but it's time for me to move on. And I suspect that if I think that it's time now, they've thought it was time... for some time. They've done more than enough for me, and I don't know how I'll ever pay them back. I hope that in time, I will be able to come to their aid when they need me. But until then, I need to leave the family alone and let them deal with their own issues and stop taking care of me.
And that leaves Mom.
At this point in time, I've been thinking "I want my Mommy" way too much. I'm not ashamed to think or to admit this. I've needed her help for so long. I need somebody to take care of me while I get everything done. I don't have time to cook meals and to work (if I can find a job soon...) and study. I've made so many mistakes. I chose the wrong school, I shouldn't have dreamt about studying abroad, but I never knew that any of this was going to happen. I never knew that these changes were going to happen so quickly. Chicago isn't where I'm supposed to be. The parent I have here isn't really here. The only things for me here are Bob and a half a year of school. There's no work (I've tried--I've even applied at friggin Autozone. Nothing.), and I just need to get away from people that do nothing but treat me like I'm a child. I don't think that Mom sees me that way, and I think she will do anything she can to keep me on the right path.
I'm going to see a counselor until the end of the summer. I don't know what good it will do. I don't need direction. I don't need help figuring out what it is that I need to do. I need help loving me. I need the strength to take care of me and to keep people from using me as a door mat. I have such a mental breakdown when the people I love shit all over what I'm doing and the other people I love. I just take whatever they say and only reply, "Uh huh... okay... yeah..." I need to stop doing that. I was raised to think adults are to be respected and that manners are important. We never quite got to the lesson: Love Yourself. I think I came back to Chicago to be with Dad before we went over that. Because clearly, Tori got the message that I missed. I wish I could be like her. Maybe when I go home, she can teach me some of her shortcuts...
That's about where everything lies as of right now. I have a few minor issues that I've got a month to figure out, but I'm not terribly concerned. There's two more weeks of this calculus class, and that's number one on the list.
And if anybody's terribly worried, I'm still keeping up with my films. 3 more in a month. Terrible. Bob and I finished Buffy in its entirety, if that counts. I never realized that Season 6 would make me the most emotional. I didn't think I'd be able to cry ever again after Anya was left at the alter. Additionally, Seven Pounds only needs to be watched once in a lifetime. That movie was fucking heartbreaking. I nearly cried my goddamn soul out.
Ghostbusters*
What the Bleep Do We Know?*
Waking Life*
Lost in Translation*
Save the Last Dance#
Let the Right One In*
The Wrestler*
Friday the 13th (1980)*
Watchmen
The Air I Breathe*
Taken*
Candy*
Lakeview Terrace*
Milk*
I Love You, Man
Silence of the Lambs*
Fun With Dick and Jane#
The Hot Chick*
Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle#
X-Men Origins: Wolverine
Maya Lin: A Strong Clear Vision*
Up
Seven Pounds*
Rachael Getting Married*
Public Enemies
*on DVD
#on TV
The reason for me putting off the updates is mainly due to the whiney, "pity me, my life sucks" nature of how they would have read. I'm hormonal, I'm bitchy, I'm cranky, and I'm really pissed off. But you already knew that.
And I've been experiencing many changes. Very rapid changes, which I'm not ready to accept yet.
My bank failed July 2. I have to close out my accounts because I'm not going to be living in this area forever. I need to put my money in a bigger bank. But all banks are susceptible to failure, so I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do. Right now, I'm thinking it would be best to throw everything into Bank of America. I did not want to do that a year ago because my Founders savings account earned so much more interest. I think Bank of America's savings earns .25%, while Founders earns .5% But right now, that really doesn't matter all that much to me. I got a 10 cent (monthly) interest payment last month from BoA, and a $9.17 (quarterly) interest payment from Founders. It's so minimal, it doesn't make a difference. So I'll probably close my account tomorrow or Tuesday. I feel rotten. :(
Speaking of which, I had a root canal Friday. I can survive a root canal. I've felt absolutely no pain since the third novocaine shot (ugh, those are bitches. I can't stand novocaine). However, my dentist says that he's "not real optimistic about [the] tooth." I guess there was a lot of hemorrhaging he couldn't control, and he speculated that there was so much bone damage done, that the tooth may not survive.
Fuck. It's likely that I'm going to have a tooth pulled. And I'm 20. What 20 year old needs a permanent tooth pulled? I have friends who had accidents and teeth fell out. But, a tooth getting pulled? From decay? It's not like I didn't brush. That's what I keep telling myself. It was rotting from beneath the gum--for a good year or so. But it didn't get looked at soon enough. And I want to blame him for that. Because he wouldn't let me get a cleaning when I asked to back in the summer of 08. But this is my fault. The bad luck of getting something stuck in there, the not going to the dentist mid-2008 because I SHOULD have, the not going during school when he gave me permission. Fuck. It's my fault. But I'm going to get it taken care of, before it spreads to the rest of my teeth. It makes me so sad, though. I might I'm very likely going to lose a permanent tooth. I'll never get it back. It's not like hair that grows back. It's gone. It's a part of me, and it's rotting inside out. It's like a cancer, except it won't kill me. And worst of all, I feel like a friggen hick. A lazy hick who doesn't brush or doesn't have dental insurance. A fucking toothless wonder. God, this sucks.
The only good thing about my fucked up tooth is that because my body is trying to push it out, it's changed my bite, slightly. And because of that, my front teeth don't meet like they used to, which makes it impossible to bite my nails. So I'm growing long, pretty Librizzi nails. I never realized how strong they were. I've just got to keep up with them, because they get pretty sharp.
Dad disappeared a short while ago. Without a fucking goodbye. I knew where he was, but I was so angry and I felt so abandoned that I didn't call him to rip him a new one. We've talked once (today, more about that in a minute) in two whole months. And I'm getting closer to realizing that he just doesn't want anything to do with me or the girls anymore. If I were a psychology major, I'd be a bit more curious as to what the fuck is going on in his head, but since I'm not, I don't give a shit. The way he has treated me in the past two years is bloody insulting and I'm so ashamed to call myself his daughter. I'm ashamed of this last name. I feel terrible when I go to parties and events and people ask how he's doing--and the way they look at me, like I'm his. I'm this spawn of him. It makes me feel disgusting and cancerous and evil. I've been told that I shouldn't be comparing myself to my parents. That I shouldn't even worry about them. That doesn't even seem to make a difference, though. Because when I talk to his family about how pissed off I am about him (and they are too), they talk about how my mother is "no better." That she did all these things that he did, like move back in with her parents. And sometimes she didn't put us first. And she isn't "the Mom of the Year" either. So... because I'm talking about my father, we talk about my mother too? I don't see how she is relevant to them at all. She's nothing to them, and vice versa. Why must they keep bringing her up in conversation when what she does is no concern of theirs? Yes, I admit she made mistakes. But first of all, they don't compare to his. She didn't go out of her way to push us away and make us feel horrible. Secondly, we're talking about dad. Leave her out of it. I hate their fucking holier-than-thou attitude about... fuck, about everything. They have to justify their problems and mistakes by bringing up problems of others that a) are of a completely different magnitude, and b) that are not relevant in the slightest. They all frustrate me to no friggin end.
In more exciting news, Nana sold the house. Which I'm absolutely thrilled about. She couldn't keep up with it anymore. And it was too big for her. And it was like this family magnet. It practically had a huge, neon sign above it: "If you're in trouble, come back to live at Nana's!" She's going to be 65. She doesn't need that. So it's sold. Surprisingly, for between $300 and $350,000. I don't know the exact price it sold for, but I know that she was never going to drop the price on that place. It's sold to a single 31-year-old police officer (perfect for that neighborhood, which is composed almost entirely of Chicago cops and firefighters). And of course, Dad is pissed. Not because he's kicked out too, but because a young, single, SUCCESSFUL person (i.e. not him) can afford a $300,000+ home. Maybe he saved for it. Maybe he didn't fuck up his life chasing after women (MARRIED women at that). Maybe he was just lucky. Who cares? It's done. Now shut up and grow up.
Where do I come in? I live there too, obviously. I mean, I haven't been living there, but it's my permanent address. And all my shit is there. And I have a lot of shit... It runs in the family, collecting does. So, I've got a lot of clearing out to do. Which doesn't seem so bad. I mean, I've basically been living out of the Civic since we moved to Frankfort in 07. Anything else I can live without, right?
Easier said than done. Kids books, I think I can part with those. My statues and mini-busts, yeah I can do that too. But... 75% of everything I own? Dad talked about getting rid of his music. All of those albums... I can't even fathom it. He told me to check around town for used music stores and used book stores to see if I can get anything for them. All of my books? All of my CDs? I know that material possessions are meaningless in the end and you reach enlightenment or whatever when you overlook them, but I'm just not ready yet. I'm not ready to let go.
Some friends brought something new to my attention, though. If I let these things go, not only am I lightening my baggage, but I'm allowing myself to be free of the past. I no longer have to think about it. I can finally start fresh. But I'm not so sure I know what that means. Where do I draw the line between what I want to keep in my life and what I want to leave behind?
Okay, so there is my "stuff" dilemma. But next, and most importantly, where do I go? Dad and whoreface, I mean Becky, are going to Lydia's in Ashton. I don't even know if I'm welcome there. And I don't think I want to live with them. With everything they have put me through and everything they represent, I can't see myself living with them ever again. Nana says I'm welcome to live with her. She's looking at this retirement community... in Frankfort. It's perfect for her. She doesn't need to do outdoor maintenance ever again, and it's so much smaller. But it's not right for me. I can't live in Frankfort again. It's so far from everything. And I'm not sure if I'm welcome there either. Not by her, but by the community.
So that leaves Bob's and Mom's.
I honestly do sense that I've overstayed my welcome. It isn't the same here as it was a year ago. I know that they love me here, but it's just not working. It's not that I don't appreciate the home that they've given me, but it's time for me to move on. And I suspect that if I think that it's time now, they've thought it was time... for some time. They've done more than enough for me, and I don't know how I'll ever pay them back. I hope that in time, I will be able to come to their aid when they need me. But until then, I need to leave the family alone and let them deal with their own issues and stop taking care of me.
And that leaves Mom.
At this point in time, I've been thinking "I want my Mommy" way too much. I'm not ashamed to think or to admit this. I've needed her help for so long. I need somebody to take care of me while I get everything done. I don't have time to cook meals and to work (if I can find a job soon...) and study. I've made so many mistakes. I chose the wrong school, I shouldn't have dreamt about studying abroad, but I never knew that any of this was going to happen. I never knew that these changes were going to happen so quickly. Chicago isn't where I'm supposed to be. The parent I have here isn't really here. The only things for me here are Bob and a half a year of school. There's no work (I've tried--I've even applied at friggin Autozone. Nothing.), and I just need to get away from people that do nothing but treat me like I'm a child. I don't think that Mom sees me that way, and I think she will do anything she can to keep me on the right path.
I'm going to see a counselor until the end of the summer. I don't know what good it will do. I don't need direction. I don't need help figuring out what it is that I need to do. I need help loving me. I need the strength to take care of me and to keep people from using me as a door mat. I have such a mental breakdown when the people I love shit all over what I'm doing and the other people I love. I just take whatever they say and only reply, "Uh huh... okay... yeah..." I need to stop doing that. I was raised to think adults are to be respected and that manners are important. We never quite got to the lesson: Love Yourself. I think I came back to Chicago to be with Dad before we went over that. Because clearly, Tori got the message that I missed. I wish I could be like her. Maybe when I go home, she can teach me some of her shortcuts...
That's about where everything lies as of right now. I have a few minor issues that I've got a month to figure out, but I'm not terribly concerned. There's two more weeks of this calculus class, and that's number one on the list.
And if anybody's terribly worried, I'm still keeping up with my films. 3 more in a month. Terrible. Bob and I finished Buffy in its entirety, if that counts. I never realized that Season 6 would make me the most emotional. I didn't think I'd be able to cry ever again after Anya was left at the alter. Additionally, Seven Pounds only needs to be watched once in a lifetime. That movie was fucking heartbreaking. I nearly cried my goddamn soul out.
Ghostbusters*
What the Bleep Do We Know?*
Waking Life*
Lost in Translation*
Save the Last Dance#
Let the Right One In*
The Wrestler*
Friday the 13th (1980)*
Watchmen
The Air I Breathe*
Taken*
Candy*
Lakeview Terrace*
Milk*
I Love You, Man
Silence of the Lambs*
Fun With Dick and Jane#
The Hot Chick*
Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle#
X-Men Origins: Wolverine
Maya Lin: A Strong Clear Vision*
Up
Seven Pounds*
Rachael Getting Married*
Public Enemies
*on DVD
#on TV