The Aria for the Night

I am home and going to sleep soon. Soon being a relative term. I rolled out of bed today with all the ill intentions of a villain committing a crime. Instead, I saw a recital and had dinner with new friends who have come into my life.

I reflected on issues in my head about the ShyGuy and what happened earlier this week. I put the problems of his, ahead of my own. I don't know what that means, except that I am growing up. Such childish reasons to be an adult, because a REAL adult won't get his act together. 31-years-old and relapsing. I can't even cry about my petty issues for a moment.

As I said, I'm growing up.

Growing, growing. We advance in maturity and I mistake life lessons for passing moments. Only to stumble upon them later, discarded like stickers than fell to the floor. Still sticky with growth, but slightly used.

I want to prove that I'm growing. That I'm progressing. It's terrifying. Let's see. . .

This week I went to an interview and I held myself at bay. I didn't freak out at the cattle call of it all. How people were ushered in and out. It was merely a barbacking gig. Minus the E and with all the respect too. If I procure this, I will count my blessings. Who knows, who truly knows.

As you can see, I am trying to prove my growth to you, for this is the only documentation I have of it. I am finished with school, mentally.

Spring break begins this Wednesday. My support group ends this Monday. I am visiting my parents this Saturday. There are so many days to do things, when will I rest? Yet, I am at rest now.

Jesus Died For Our Sins

Last night I sat down with my dad and discussed my finances for the next year. I'm going to have to take out a wonderfully hefty loan to live off of. I'm doing what everyone else is doing and living off the system. Despite the fact I will have to pay it back. Rent, food, Subway Transportation, etc. All will live off this loan.

It's very disheartening when you sit down and add it all up. I can't do financial aid because I'm on my parent's income, which is well above 75,000 a year. My father is rich, that doesn't make me rich. What a funny and overheard complaint in the college world. I'm hoping that on this loan I will be able to finish school once and for all. Granted, I will enter the adult world (haven't I been there for a while already?) and have to start paying off the loans. All that jazz. My dad was very helpful, telling me not to get discouraged. It's not as bad as it will seem. It's life, we all have to go through it.

He also approves of my leaving my job. Apparently I am the hardest working person in college they know. Isn't that funny? It's actually very true. No one works harder than I have. That's a proven fact. I'm kidding, my story is a dime-a-dozen here in the city. I suppose. Well I highly doubt it actually I've never heard of any 22 year old who has gone through as much as I have.

A Long Days Journey Back to Home

This is how I remember my family. Yes, I am the little one in the red vest. I remember happiness and simplicity. I don't remember fights and hate. Which utterly perplexes me how times change so easily. People change. It someone looked at this photo could they possibly see what futures were held for these people? Can you spot the alcoholic? The troublemaker/pothead? The faggot? Or the thief?

If you've spotted three of the five, congratulations you are psychic. This is how I'd like to begin the story of my family (someday of course), which an imagine similar to this picture. My very childhood memories rely on this very photo, if I stray to far away from this photo all of my childhood may crackup completely.

I have found out something very important on my visit here. That is the story of our Rise and Fall as Jehovah's Witnesses. It truly is a sordid tale, and once again has inspired me to someday write a play based on it:

Act I:
My mother and her younger sister were raised Catholic until she (my mom) was 13. Then her parents made the change to Jehovah's Witnesses. That is still a mystery, but I also can compare it with the very moment they lost their minds. My mother fled my grandparents iron rule at 18 and promptly became pregnant with my brother at 21.

My dad was a 21 year old pot smoking dropout who wanted to change his life. He wanted something to believe in. He became a Jehovah's Witness and a good one at that. He became a partner in his father's business and was basically one step below being an Elder. Mother's younger sister was a Jehovah's witness and thus her husband was one too. All but my mother never was baptised.

As years passed my mother had me and my brother started school. She began to resent my father and his religion for ostracizing her children. My brother was sent to the Principal's office whenever there were parties of any kind. My father also began to get more involved with the business and that meant sometimes lying about certain business transactions. This was not the way of a Jehovah's Witness. Lying and watching you distance yourself from your family. My father left and thus is officially excommunicated.

Oh, but if only that were the end of this tale. No, it's not.

Act II:

My Aunt and her husband, still Jehovah's Witnesses, have their first child. While my aunt is weakened by birth somehow a rare blood disease she had took that opportunity to become active in her body.

A week after she had her child she developed kidney stones and one one could figure out what was wrong with her. She returned to the hospital and complications began. Jehovah's Witnesses don't believe in Western Medicine and though a blood transfusion could possibly have cured everything. She never got it. My Uncle refused to give her the transfusion, they even had other Witnesses come to the hospital to keep him strong. But my mother said that she still remembers the wails he let out they moment she was gone.

That's not how I remember my family, but that's how it really happened.

Lastly, this is my at my fattest. Some people don't believe I was once chubbier. So I'm bringing pictures home to show the Tall Man because he shared his fat photos with me.

Where to place my thoughts

I can't figure out where to place my thoughts. Parents came, parents went. It was the quickest visit yet. It was rainy and things were mild and well. Mom announced that I was expected home for Easter. To which I need to figure out. These small things stress me out for some odd reason. To put it simply, I don't wish to go home for Easter.

I am having several childhood memories that I am falling into and wading around in. I've been remembering times that are much calmer and fill me with ease. A particular memory that reminds me of Colored Lights by Kander & Ebb. The memory is of when I was visiting my grandparents in Florida when I was probably 15 or 16. I was reading Agatha Christie's mystery novels. I had just discovered Starlight Express and Sunset Blvd. It was so calm. I was stuck in a retirement area and I loved it. We would ride out on my grandparent's slow-moving boat and I would listen to my CD player. Through my new found interest in Sunset Blvd, I was able to see the movie for the first time with my grandmother's help.

These memories comfort me. So strange. I miss those colored lights.

I've found that recently due to events that I have become terrified to be alone. I don't like it, I find myself seeking out the company of friends. Which is a great because it is not my initial reaction to seek the company in a sexual manner. Yet, I dislike it because I am becoming afraid of silence. I'm afraid to deal with thoughts. I feel selfish that I am allowing myself to let it pass. I have days I want to scream and days I want to cry and days where I want nothing but to laugh. I try most for the laughing nowadays.