On having a nephew, being privileged, and saving the world
Good morning/night/afternoon, Livejournal. I was going to write this over the weekend but I know I'm not going to have any time at all. Tomorrow, I have two shows with Sophie. Sunday, I'm pretty sure I have lunch plans and I seriously need to buckle down on that darn research paper.
I have a little Post-It note inside of the composition notebook next to me with a list of things to write about-
-baby
-being privileged
-earth day/saving the world
-the book
-a poem
I guess I'll just start and go through this and ramble because I've had a lot on my mind the past few days. I've had time to think and write and read but, really, the time has come and gone faster than I've realized.
Monday, and school starts again. I have two months of school left and then my freshman year is over. And then I will be sophomore.
And all of this is just passing me so quickly and I don't want to miss anything.
I know it's inevitable. I know I know I know, I'm still your love.
The baby came. Wednesday morning and my sister was losing her mind. The due date was Saturday and then Sunday came and Monday and Tuesday and, by Wednesday, my sister just wanted him to come out.
Wednesday morning and the contractions started.
We went for a walk and, every few minutes, we had to stop. My sister doubled over and breathed and then it was gone and we'd keep walking.
She started timing her contractions around noontime. By 6 or 7 Wednesday night, they were eight minutes apart. It was time to go to the hospital.
My dad brought her and I waited at home, writing and reading and trying not to freak out. Eventually, I went to sleep.
My sister's water broke at 2:30 AM.
In the morning, when I woke up, I was alone in the house. My dad had gone to work for a few hours and my mom was at the hospital and she told us to just meet her there.
I showered and my dad came home and we crossed town and took the elevator to Labor & Delivery.
We sat in the waiting room and watched the view but I couldn't focus. I started reading The Last Summer Of The World by Emily Mitchell but I couldn't focus. I checked my email. I couldn't focus.
At 10:52, my sister had her baby.
Eventually, they let us in. I saw my sister and cried. I saw the baby and his tiny hands reaching towards her face and I cried.
I sat on the floor next to my mom and watched my sister watching me. She did it naturally, no epidural or anything. She pushed for 45 minutes before he came. She pushed and she didn't and my sister is one of the strongest people I know.
She has been through so much. And now she is a mother.
My dad and I went out to lunch and there were so many times I just wanted to say, "Dad. I'm gay." I was so close to saying it and I should've, but I got scared. I'm making excuses for myself. I'm horrified.
I could keep talking about the baby but there's something else I want to say. This is what my dad and I mostly talked about when we were together-
My mom's friend's sister was in the waiting room with my dad Wednesday night. Her husband is one of my uncle's friends. He asked my dad about the baby and my dad asked him about the baby they were waiting for, their grandchild.
He told my father that his daughter's baby was stillborn, and they were making her have him anyways.
And when my dad told me that, I cried. He almost cried. I have been crying non-stop the past few days.
And it makes me feel lucky. My sister's pregnancy was so easy. There were next to no complications.
My family, we are struggling for money, but we're making it work. We're managing.
We survive.
Their grandchild didn't.
I can't explain how it made me feel, when my father told me that.
But I realized, again, for the second time that week, how lucky I am.
Tuesday, I went to a job workshop my mom signed me up for. It was at the career center a few towns over and it was just a little workshop about job interviews and attire and what to do when looking for a job.
Sitting in the waiting room there, I looked around and saw all of these people who belong to a different world than me. Most of them probably spent their childhoods in DSS, with their social workers and moving from program to program. My mom is a social worker.
Most of them have had it so hard, and I have had it so easy.
I am privileged. I get an allowance and, if I want money, I ask my mom and it's usually that simple. The past few months, though, I have felt so guilty asking my parents for money. Whether it's five dollars or ten dollars, sometimes even twenty, I feel like I shouldn't be asking for it.
We're behind on our bills. I might have to stop taking piano lessons.
I'm trying so hard to be grateful and I shouldn't need to be in situations like that to be grateful for the life I have.
I should feel the way I felt in that room every day, for every second.
There was one boy there who stands out in my mind, still. He was older, maybe in his early 20s, wearing a jean jacket. He had a newspaper and he was cutting out a few stories, carefully, meticulously, with a rusting pair of scirssors.
I can still remember him.
Yesterday was Earth Day. My newphew's birthday will always be on Earth Day. I think that's so great.
I've made a list and taped it to my wall, next to my Ani Difranco poster, of Things To Do To Save The World.
I need to just pay more attention to the world around me, the environment. If this means recycling everything and using a reusable water bottle, taking shorter showers and spending less time on the computer/watching TV, I'm going to do it.
I need to. My generation needs to change.
We're the only hope, aren't we?
This is a long post. I had so many things I wanted to write about and, now that I'm actually writing, it doesn't seem all that important anymore.
So maybe this is all, until next weekend.
I'm sure I'll have more to tell you by then.
I have a little Post-It note inside of the composition notebook next to me with a list of things to write about-
-baby
-being privileged
-earth day/saving the world
-the book
-a poem
I guess I'll just start and go through this and ramble because I've had a lot on my mind the past few days. I've had time to think and write and read but, really, the time has come and gone faster than I've realized.
Monday, and school starts again. I have two months of school left and then my freshman year is over. And then I will be sophomore.
And all of this is just passing me so quickly and I don't want to miss anything.
I know it's inevitable. I know I know I know, I'm still your love.
The baby came. Wednesday morning and my sister was losing her mind. The due date was Saturday and then Sunday came and Monday and Tuesday and, by Wednesday, my sister just wanted him to come out.
Wednesday morning and the contractions started.
We went for a walk and, every few minutes, we had to stop. My sister doubled over and breathed and then it was gone and we'd keep walking.
She started timing her contractions around noontime. By 6 or 7 Wednesday night, they were eight minutes apart. It was time to go to the hospital.
My dad brought her and I waited at home, writing and reading and trying not to freak out. Eventually, I went to sleep.
My sister's water broke at 2:30 AM.
In the morning, when I woke up, I was alone in the house. My dad had gone to work for a few hours and my mom was at the hospital and she told us to just meet her there.
I showered and my dad came home and we crossed town and took the elevator to Labor & Delivery.
We sat in the waiting room and watched the view but I couldn't focus. I started reading The Last Summer Of The World by Emily Mitchell but I couldn't focus. I checked my email. I couldn't focus.
At 10:52, my sister had her baby.
Eventually, they let us in. I saw my sister and cried. I saw the baby and his tiny hands reaching towards her face and I cried.
I sat on the floor next to my mom and watched my sister watching me. She did it naturally, no epidural or anything. She pushed for 45 minutes before he came. She pushed and she didn't and my sister is one of the strongest people I know.
She has been through so much. And now she is a mother.
My dad and I went out to lunch and there were so many times I just wanted to say, "Dad. I'm gay." I was so close to saying it and I should've, but I got scared. I'm making excuses for myself. I'm horrified.
I could keep talking about the baby but there's something else I want to say. This is what my dad and I mostly talked about when we were together-
My mom's friend's sister was in the waiting room with my dad Wednesday night. Her husband is one of my uncle's friends. He asked my dad about the baby and my dad asked him about the baby they were waiting for, their grandchild.
He told my father that his daughter's baby was stillborn, and they were making her have him anyways.
And when my dad told me that, I cried. He almost cried. I have been crying non-stop the past few days.
And it makes me feel lucky. My sister's pregnancy was so easy. There were next to no complications.
My family, we are struggling for money, but we're making it work. We're managing.
We survive.
Their grandchild didn't.
I can't explain how it made me feel, when my father told me that.
But I realized, again, for the second time that week, how lucky I am.
Tuesday, I went to a job workshop my mom signed me up for. It was at the career center a few towns over and it was just a little workshop about job interviews and attire and what to do when looking for a job.
Sitting in the waiting room there, I looked around and saw all of these people who belong to a different world than me. Most of them probably spent their childhoods in DSS, with their social workers and moving from program to program. My mom is a social worker.
Most of them have had it so hard, and I have had it so easy.
I am privileged. I get an allowance and, if I want money, I ask my mom and it's usually that simple. The past few months, though, I have felt so guilty asking my parents for money. Whether it's five dollars or ten dollars, sometimes even twenty, I feel like I shouldn't be asking for it.
We're behind on our bills. I might have to stop taking piano lessons.
I'm trying so hard to be grateful and I shouldn't need to be in situations like that to be grateful for the life I have.
I should feel the way I felt in that room every day, for every second.
There was one boy there who stands out in my mind, still. He was older, maybe in his early 20s, wearing a jean jacket. He had a newspaper and he was cutting out a few stories, carefully, meticulously, with a rusting pair of scirssors.
I can still remember him.
Yesterday was Earth Day. My newphew's birthday will always be on Earth Day. I think that's so great.
I've made a list and taped it to my wall, next to my Ani Difranco poster, of Things To Do To Save The World.
I need to just pay more attention to the world around me, the environment. If this means recycling everything and using a reusable water bottle, taking shorter showers and spending less time on the computer/watching TV, I'm going to do it.
I need to. My generation needs to change.
We're the only hope, aren't we?
This is a long post. I had so many things I wanted to write about and, now that I'm actually writing, it doesn't seem all that important anymore.
So maybe this is all, until next weekend.
I'm sure I'll have more to tell you by then.