Topeka

Last night, in fitful bouts of sleep, I thought about what it means to really be an adult. An honest to goodness "my parents & Mr. Longo" kind of adult. As much as I'd like to permanently leave on the big girl pants, I'm trite and petty, jealous and temperamental. It's considered a bad thing that I've been "parentified," in the word of my mom's counselor, that I feel overly responsible for the well being of my brother and myself. Still, at times it seems like nobody else is going to be responsible for us, so somebody should care about where he is. Jack and I have similar attitudes towards authority, we just react differently. If the person in charge has earned their position and is competant, they can be respected. However, figureheads get nothing. This is another reason I don't feel quite like an adult. The "adult" world is full of bullshit that has to be resigned to if one is to continue and succeed. But again, maybe this is just a childish interpretation.

Party Like it's 1998

Red version was $19.99 and MarioKart64 was $30.
What kind of hell store was I in?!

Pity Little Things

Though you will never read this, and I already said thank you, "Thank you."

Talk is cheap, and so is my writing. It's been brought to my attention that I need to reiterate what this blog is for. This is an airing of personal grievances. I don't make attacks. I do post information that is of a fairly sensitive nature, but I do censor myself. I realize that we are not all sensible adults who read this and write accordingly. I never post about shit that's going on in my family and only rarely about "my angst." Reading this blog does not entitle anyone to think they know me. Trust me, no matter who you are reading this blog, I don't talk about you behind your back, please try and return the favor as far as this blog is concerned. I write for expression, not entertainment.

Fuckin' A

My 18th birthday is going to be down in Myrtle Beach this year. It's a little hard to get across what that exactly means, except that my cousins are good people with good taste in wild.

"Well, we fooled 'em for a long time, didn't we?"

Imagine that you suddenly lost the ability to read or sing or speak. Overnight, skills just started disappearing, including how to tell everyone else what is happening to you, when you don't really understand it yourself. There are memories when you knew how to do these things. Is it terrifying? Frustrating? There's a disorder, under the class of a childhood developmental disorder, where three year olds start forgetting how to do things, start forgetting how to speak. They start reacting to waking nightmares, hallucinations, and have no idea how to tell their parents what's happening.

"Childhood desire for companionship can become numbed through a history of failed social encounters."
-Wikipedia article on Asperger syndrome

Last night, before Nick and I went to pick up Emily, we shared dinner with my dad. NPR drifted smooth jazz from some Sunday evening program, maybe American Routes, and we got to discussing classical pianists. Eight hour a day focus, intensely preoccupied with black marks on white paper, to the point that simple verbal instructions "play these two chords" becomes a difficult task. My dad said that in the future, all these levels of focus would have names, ADD and Asperger's being broad descriptions. He then went on to casually announce that he has Asperger's. I'd never known it, though everything seemed to fall into an understanding.

"...research supports... and suggests a genetic contribution to Asperger syndrome."

I don't know where my abilities originate from. My mom has the worst memory I've ever encountered, while mine is one of the sharpest. She forgot her friend had cancer, while I remembered that it was thyroid cancer, and he'd lost his health insurance because he was laid off. I've had roughly the same schedule for four years, Tuesday and Thursday HiQ, Monday and Wednesday [activity]. She has never been able to retain this, scheduling all manner of appointments for times with well established engagements. Despite some tendencies towards isolation, I'm still social, whereas my dad is removed from the world except for his immediate family and clients.

"The sky so big it nearly broke my soul."

I have an honest to goodness picnic basket and there are ladybugs all over my house. I count them dotting windows in the morning and afternoons. The grass feels brighter than I've ever seen it. Even the walnut and maple trees in my yard are growing a mossy green bark. Spring is so barely sprung, but the birds are loudly courting and living outside. I think I'll go for a walk.

"Never tell a soul that we kissed."

Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it doesn't.

"Why won't our love keel over as it chokes on a bone?"

MOE seeded 4th and went on to win the Philly regional with Miss Daisy (341) and the Positronic Panthers (486) from Strath Haven. It was an awesome three days, though demanding. Last night, eight of the team members and two more kids from GV went out to a restaurant in Chinatown. I ate a fish's eyeball. It tastes like fish.

"We can mourn it passing and then bury it in the snow."

"So, I gather you're kind of promiscuous then?" I'd never really considered that the word may apply to me, but admittedly, I have low standards and only casual relationships. I've whispered the wrong name, called up the past instead of the present. For my only talent of remembering things, boys sorta blend together.

"If you don't want to be with me just say, and I will go."

"Should you look through some old photos, I adored you in every one of those."

"If someone took a picture of us now, they'd need to be told."

"I'd say she was his sister, but she doesn't have his nose."

"But I hate when I feel like this,"

"...and I never hated you."