W and I went to Florida for the wedding of his childhood friend. I don't really consider DisneyWorld to be the kind of place I'd ever go as an adult, without kids (and W and I analyzed while there that the ideal age range for a kid to go is between 4 and 13 - old enough to know what's going on but not old enough to be mortified of one's parents). Regardless, we had a really great time.

We stayed at the Disney resort itself - a sprawling maze of themed resorts, heated pools, attractions ams carefully coordinated shuttle buses. We chose the Port Orleans French Quarter, because it was considered a mid-level resort and because we found the theme to be kind of hysterical.



Overall, it was a fine place to stay. The guestroom was decent and the pool was great (I'm such a landlocked girl, far preferring the calm, heated waters of an inground pool over the unpredictable salty, splashy water of the ocean!). The food court, though, left much to be desired (overpriced greasy fare and coffee tasting like styrofoam).

We spent Saturday at the Magic Kingdom, and I was quite surprised at how nostalgic I felt on many of the rides. It's interesting how much an iconic experience gets woven into one's memories. I love that W is up for going all-out when we travel. As soon as we entered the park, we made a beeline for the mouse-ear-embroidered-hat shoppe.

My favorite ride, of course, is still the Haunted Mansion. Small improvements have been made, but overall the experience seemed to be mostly the same.

I also had intangible, find memories of the Enchanted Tiki Room, and was disappointed to find that the annoying parrot from Aladdin (voiced by Gilbert Gofdfry) was added and the show completely changed. It was loud, obnoxious and included music by Miami Sound Machine. When we left the show, I was furiously ranting on about how they shouldn't change a thing and revert back to the 1960s. Despite realizing that I sounded like a cranky old lady, I was still mad. (When I got home, I promptly downloaded the "Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room" song.)

It's kind of creepy how strongly gender roles are reinforced at Disney. I guess the princesses have become a big "thing," after the new wave of "strong willed but looking for love" Disney cartoons in the early 90s. A new attraction is the "Bibbity Bobbity Boutique" in Downtown Disney, where little girls pick out a princess outfit and have there hair and makeup done in classic Disney princess style. They also get a pink sash to wear, announcing that they've been to the salon (as though the glittery slicked up bun, makeup, tiara and princess costume weren't obvious enough). It made me kind of sad, because I'm sure I would have never been allowed to have the BBB experience, cost wise. Sometimes I wish I had had the experience of having my girlishnss indulged as a child. What would it have been like to have an expensive store-bought official costume and pretty long hair and a tiara?

I was excited to see the Hall of Presidents, where robots of all the old presidents talk and move. I remember it being boring as a child, but I thought it would be better as an adult.

Nope. Boring in 1983, boring in 1988, boring in 2008. The animatronics are pretty amazing though. Maybe if they'd just ditch that colonial times video that takes up half the time, and maybe if they let the more obscure "presidents" speak. (Rutherford Hays, Chester Arthur? Those guys were presidents?? Just saying.)

We had planned on leaving the Magic Kingdom around 2pm, leaving time for a visit to MGM. But before we knew it, it was 5pm!

We jetted over to Epcot with only enough time to ride Spaceship Earth. I had just started bitching about how the ride needed to be updated (the animatronics ended with old computers) when the ride did this awesome interactive thing in each seat. It's hard to explain, but I was impressed.

I wish we had more time at Epcot, since I think I would have really enjoyed it. And man, that globe thing is actually really beautiful! I couldn't stop taking pictures of it.



We watched the fireworks show in a special reserved area for the wedding guests. It was mostly nice, aside from the mother of the bride accusing us of crashing the wedding. No joke, and she didnt even apologize. I'm still fairly pissed off about it.

On Sunday, W and I checked out Celebration. We had heard all kinds of creepy things about it-- new urbanism, Disney ownership, cultish residents, etc -- but I found aspects of it to be quite nice. There are lots of walking trails, a public fountain to play in, rocking chairs by the water, a town square, etc. Don't get me wrong-- it's still not totally cool in my book to create a highly regulated "city" where only upper middle class white families can afford to live, financially and culturally, and is owned by a large corporation and is exempt from county laws and such. I think cities should be inclusive and somewhat chaotic/organic.



One more creepy thing- the town does simulated fall and winter. This means that fake fall leaves are placed on sidewalks during autumn and streetlamps emit small bubbles to mimic snow in winter. I am not joking.

Thankfully, my very first friend from college, Darlene, drive us to both Celebration and Old Town! It was great to see her, and we would never have known about Old Town. Old Town very much reminded me of downtown Vegas-- the old, grittier strip of tourist attractions and faded glamor. It also made me remember a hotel called Wilson World, where we stayed in 1988. I remember it being luxurious, with a gorgeous indoor pool with a huge waterfall I could swim under. I Googled it when I got home, only to find that it's now a Red Roof Inn. (I suspect my perception of "luxury" was not what it is today.) Another surprising and fond memory of Disney!



In my Google search, I found a message board of people sharing memories of the hotel. It was kind of like recently when I realized that several women in my office once owned a cassette tape by a group called The Party that I was once obsessed with. I'm having these experiences a lot recently, where I find someone with the same passionate childhood markers of time that I have. It's thrilling to discuss them.

The wedding was exceptionally classy, though it was difficult to get W to dance. I guess this is one of the drawbacks of not bringing a gay date.

After the wedding, we made our way via shuttle bus to the Boardwalk resort, styled to look like a 1920s boardwalk. W was thoroughly creeped out, but forgot his discomfort inside Jellyroll's Piano Bar (thanks, Darlene!), where two dueling piano players sang and took requests.

As much as I'm not a Disney person, I have to admit that they have their shit together at the resort. A shuttle picks you up from the airport, and they check you in and check your bags going home. The entire resort is connected by a complicated series of highways. Fascinating.

Labels: childhood, deep thoughts, globetrotting

I'm not sure if it's just because I'm getting older, or I've been away longer, or because I took that class on social class this fall. But man, my hometown looks shabby.

On one of the major "main drags" nearby where I grew up, storefronts are boarded up and sale signs abound. Did I really never notice the nearby trailer park? Well, parks?! Not only the "nice" ones, cleverly hidden deep in planned communities with fancy names near the strip club, but the really shabby ones? Right near the elementary school I went to?


And lord, I have such fond memories of going to Suzette's for frozen custard and lemon ice, especially after dance recitals (where we'd run into about 30 other little girls wearing sparkly costumes). But why is the building still standing there? And why did it close down in the first place?


How about all the untidy houses in older communities?

Of course, the winter doesn't help. This stuff looks much worse against a gray sky backdrop and behind filthy piles of half-melted snow.


It's not all bad, of course. But man, was I ever oblivious to the other, more affluent suburbs not that far away. Where did those kids go to college? What are they doing now?

It's not that I regret growing up where I did. It was really sheltered -- sometimes in a good way -- from some of the world's stress. Like how the richest kids in high school got brand new cars for their 16th birthdays, and not some insane party worthy of an episode of "My Super Sweet 16." Or how a pair of Keds was a good enough status signifier. Though that didn't mean that I didn't peel the little blue labels off of the one pair of authentic Keds I had and hot glue them onto newer, generic white sneakers. 'Cause I did. But no one knew! And if they did, they didn't tell me. And remember Forrestel jeans? I think that was just a Buffalo thing, because I can't find anything on them online aside from a few ebay postings. But man, they were cool, even though they were mom cut and retailed for about $20.

I left this trip feeling awfully naive, like I had really been out of it as a kid. Other Buffalonians -- am I alone in this? Or did we just grow up in a different time? I can't help but think that kids in Westchester experienced things differently. Or even in Amherst.

It's kind of strange to look back on a hometown and see it through different eyes. The good, the bad, I'm still on the fence about it all. Not that I think that every intersection should be home to a brand new Wal-Mart plaza (though my dad would be absolutely thrilled). But maybe it's time to knock down the old restaurant that's been boarded up for years.

The lack of building reuse in Buffalo is kind of insane. But the new building housing a Bed, Bath and Beyond and a PetSmart in the next town over looks a lot better than the shabby Burlington Coat Factory that used to operate out of the space of the grocery store where my dad was a manager when I was a kid (more on this later).

I've read recently that Buffalo is one of the poorest cities in the country. Of course, that might just mean downtown, which has lost something like 50% of its population over the last 50 years. Thankfully, there are some folks of my generation moving back into the city. But the city is still home to scores of abandoned homes in it's worst neighborhoods !

Now I'm starting to ramble. My hometown kind of makes me sad. And I feel icky for feeling that way.

But here's an interesting blog I found about downtown 'Flo: Fix Buffalo Today. He has some great photos of crumbling houses.

I just started wondering when I became so interested in boarded up houses. I thought maybe it was related to being in NYC, but then I remember being obsessed with a boarded up house near where I grew up (locals -- it was near Salvatore's), and how I would ask my mom to walk me past it so I could look in the windows and check for ghosts.

Labels: bflo, childhood, deep thoughts, observe

Last night, I FINALLY went ice skating in NYC. Living here for 7.5 years now, you'd think I would have gone to one of the more iconic locales to engage in some holiday cheer already. But no.

W and I decided on The Pond at Bryant Park, mostly because it's bigger than the Rock Center rink and also completely FREE (even the skate rental, though I suspect that was subsidized last night by the Simpson's movie, which was doing a major promotion at the rink). It's pretty amazing how scary it is at first to step out onto the ice and feel as though you're about to fall flat on your face, and then how quickly you get the feel for it. Before we knew it, we were gliding around the rink fairly gracefully.


I used to go skating with my mother when I was little. It seems kind of crazy to think about that now, being she was so non-athletic. We never went to a proper rink, but would skate in our yard -- in the lot next to our house where water would pool and freeze -- and in my grandmother's back yard near her crumbling chicken houses. I had a pair of double-runner skates and my mom wore a worn-out pair from her youth, jingle bells still attached to the laces. I thought of her last night, wishing I could remember more about our early ice skating adventures.

After a successful ice adventure, W and I walked uptown to the Russian Vodka Room (after detouring past my Hell's Kitchen apartment so I could point it out to him and fill him on some stories about my life pertaining to those years -- the blackout, the place I used to drop my laundry, and by the way, since when is Hell's Kitchen Little Thailand?! There is at least one trend Thai restaurant on every block of 9th Avenue now.). The bar was filled with drunk Russian mobsters and a gigantic man playing the piano. We tried the horseradish, dill garlic and ginger infused vodkas (the latter came in a heart-shaped carafe), plus a plate of salmon and potato pancakes. We came home late and drunk, attempting to watch an episode of Lost on DVD. I fell asleep about five seconds in.

Today I feel refreshed. Guess I really am Slavic, and can hold my vodka.

Labels: childhood, holiday, mom, nyc

Don't know what Fantastic Sams is? It's a chain of cheapo hair salons that were very popular in Buffalo in the 1980s. Though my visit to their website and peeking into a Virginia storefront looks little like the FS I remember (aside from the logo).

As far as I remember (and I went there often), it was heavily geared towards kids. I have a memory of picking up a lock of my newly-cut hair, placing it in a box, knocking three times and saying something stupid (haircut!, etc), and opening the door back up to find a small shitty prize. Most notable, though, were the "names" of the "stylists." Each woman worked at a station that bore a light-up fake moniker. They were names like "Peppermint" and "Rainbow." I remember wondering why the lady named Peppermint was different every time, and almost didn't believe my mother when she told me those were not their real names. It was crushing.

One time, I received a haircut that was not totally straight. My mom took me back to complain and I was mortified.

Anyone have similar memories of ladies named "Peppermint?"

Labels: childhood, NaBloPoMo

Lately, I've been craving fried, greasy things. Last night for dinner, I ate perhaps the foulest thing I've yet to consume in my adult life. A throwback to a childhood favorite, I ate a Banquet fried chicken TV dinner!

Man, that shit was good. Microwaved goodness, slightly overcooked fried chicken breading, instant mashed potatoes. I could have eaten four pieces of chicken. Maybe I need to hit up Crown Fried this week. WTF is wrong with me?

I'm kind of getting excited for the holidays. Not the actual holidays, per say, but dressing up in pretty outfits and hosting and attending holiday parties. I feel remotivated to dress up and hang some twinkly lights. I'm hosting my writing group on December 14, so maybe I should have an official party on the 15th?

Labels: childhood, NaBloPoMo

I had my first classes today. The schedule is nice, because every day is different. Today, I had both morning sessions, and tomorrow I have the later morning session and the later afternoon session. This kinda works out, as my roommate is in my late class and she will largely be orchestrating my birthday night out.

So, in gender class, we went around the room and talked about when we were first aware of issues/concepts of gender. I went first, and it's funny since I was just telling someone this story. In first grade, I went to a boy's birthday party. As a gift, I picked out a He-Man for him. It was the one with the chest that switched to different panels showing his armor being bent in, and then would flip back. Secretly, I wanted this toy. I even remember passively mentioning it as we were buying it for Jonathan. "Boy, I really like this toy." But I felt like it was wrong for me to want it. I'm sure my mom would have bought it for me. She bought me a whole set of toy dumptrucks when I was very little because I wanted them. I'm not sure what I was afraid of, but I knew wanting the He-Man made me feel horribly guilty and asking for it would feel even worse! I can recall another instance, from 7th grade, when our asshole gym teacher split us up into two groups: boys and girls. He told us we would each be working on an activity that would be useful to us. He spent the next several weeks in class working with the boys on wrestling, while we were left to our own devices to choreograph a dance.

So, only three more people had a story from childhood. No joke, the rest of the students said they first encountered gender issues while taking a gender class in college! OR, in the workplace, and only because they were working at a government agency! Seriously?! I don't consider myself a hard-core feminist reactionary or anything, but almost none of these other people gave it any thought until recently?!

One of my quests on the trip has been to talk about Communism to everyone who lives in a formerly Commie country. I'm so insanely curious about it, being that we were subjected to USA propaganda in grammar school. So far, I've learned that Communism did have some good things. For example, milk was delivered to each and every doorstep, for free, ever morning. Though, it often got stolen by milk thieves. Also, there were beautiful cartoons aired in Commie times, with vivid colors and great animation. (Link to come when I find one on YouTube).

Maria's sister picked me up today, and didn't speak a word of English. OK, she spoke a few words, but she kept trying to talk to me in German. We spent a good 40 minutes in the car playing pantomime and laughing. I was surprisingly calm, considering I was being driven god-knows-where by a woman who spoke no English.

Maria's apartment was very small -- definitely NYC standards. Maria had prepared an enormous meal for me:

Of course, there was no way in hell I'd be able to finish this, and then she kept asking if I didn't like it. "You don like eet?" she kept asking. She did make miseria (the bowl on the right -- I just learned its proper Polish name), which is one of my favorite traditional dishes. It's cucumbers in sour creme (and other stuff? salt and pepper?). She also gave me a huge piece of cake, a cup of coffee and a loaf of sweet bread to take with me. Needless to say, someone (moi) came down with a case of the poo cramps.

After we began eating, another sister came by. She literally spoke NO English. So from then on, it was mostly them talking VERY loudly in Polish over one another, with Maria occasionally translating. I asked her to ask the sister who picked me up (and drove me back) to take me to get some bottled water and a newspaper for Helena. Success.

I'm in the lobby of the dorm now, looking for some social activity. No such luck. But speaking of being social, I'm really glad I came on the trip by myself (as opposed to with a close friend from school). I would, of course, have loved to have someone I already really knew here, but being alone has made it way easier to socialize. There are a few small groups of people here who very obviously know one another from their respective graduate programs. They tend to stick to themselves, and don't make as much of an effort to talk to random people. Whereas I had lunch today at a table FULL of Polish students! Point is, it's cool to be thrown into a situation where a lot of other people are in the same boat (and are not douchebags, which reminds me, I taught Helena that term tonight. You should hear her say it in a Polish accent!).

Labels: childhood, globetrotting, observe, school daze

Yesterday while at Mira's 4th of July party, an interesting subject came up. I have no idea how, but we all began discussing what everyone called the area between a man's balls and a-hole. Mira and I knew the clinical name, thanks to frequent mentions in Cosmo mag (no one else did), and most people had some sort of slang name for it.

Here are a few:

• taint (the most popular by far and the only slang word I know for it)
• chode
• grundel
• gooch

The best by far was the one Christina knew: nifkin. Doesn't that sound like the name of some magical woodland creature? For some reason, Teddy Ruxpin popped into my mind, and it was almost something I could hear him say (via cassette tape in his back):


I think I've had TR on the brain, since I saw an old childhood friend when I was in the 'Flo a few weeks ago, and she was the only kid I knew who had a Teddy Ruxpin. I think her wealthy grandma in New Jersey bought it for her. Looking at him now, his vest thing sure looks crappy.

***
Also, I popped into the Apple store this afternoon to pick up a power converter for my laptop. While there, I got my first in-person look at the iPhone. Man, it's beautiful. I asked the demo guy when it would be available on more services, and he snootily reminded me that it's, "an AT+T Exclusive right now!!" I've also decided that I cannot justify spending more than $399 on a cell phone. Once it goes to a better provider and comes down in price, I'm there. The fancy display behind the counter reminded me of when I went there to buy my first iPod back in 2002, and they were all stacked up behind the registers.

I also had another thought -- if I buy a techno phone in Europe and put my T-Mobile SIM card in it at home, could I use it here?

Labels: childhood, gadgets, hee

I haven't made too much out of the holiday today so far. I have two parties to attend later, but for now I am alternating between packing and watching episodes of Felicity.

My mood had improved over the last few days, thanks in part to a lovely dinner with Suzanne and Justin (and Suzanne's very thoughtful and exactly-what-I-needed birthday gift).

Packing is coming along. I was going to buy myself an expensive new laptop bag, but I picked up a cheap sleeve at Target instead. I went back to chi-chi Flight 001 to pick up a TSA-approved padlock for my suitcase (the thought of flying 14ish hours with an unlocked bag made me a little nervous), and saw these cute travel toiletry bags by Le Sportsac:



Happy early birthday to me. I deserve them.

As a child, I always loved the 4th of July. It meant my birthday was exactly one week away (and still does!) and that iwe'd be celebrating my birthday with the Evil Aunts. Not that those were all that fun, seeing as it was me, my parents and old people, and if I was lucky I'd get a savings bond or two, but when I was really little, my Aunt Jane had a fiancee who was the kindest man ever and used to bring sparklers over for us to light in the driveway. It also meant I'd soon get some sort of toy from my parents. Remember how much fun it was to browse the aisles of K.B. Toys or Toys 'R' Us?


The weather forecast for my 29th birthday in Krakow says a high in the 60s and rain. Just like today's weather in NYC. Last summer was SO HOT on this day. I remember eating fried chicken in Fort Greene Park with Jay. It's strange to have July 4 fall on a Wednesday. It feels like a Saturday to me.

I'm going to do a load of laundry, a little more packing and then head out to this evening's festivities. Can't wait to see a bunch of close friends!

Labels: childhood, holiday, nyc

Is that name familiar to you?


For reasons unknown, I had an idea a few days ago: Google all of the old pre-teen book series I used to read. For some reason, revisiting this has provided hours of fascination over the last few afternoons.

Did you ever notice how there was always one character you liked the best? In the Babysitters' Club series, my favorite was Claudia. I'm not sure why, as I sure didn't relate to her. Maybe I secretly wanted to be Asian. Probably because the first I read of the series was Claudia and Mean Janine.

I also liked Dawn. I think I was intrigued by the whole California thing. Least of all, I liked Kristy -- definitely did NOT relate to her. Now that I think about it, I wasn't like any of the BSC members.

Before I started reading BSC, I was really into Sweet Valley Twins. Though I related more to Elizabeth, I really wished I could be like Jessica. I never got very into the SW High books.

Both BSC and SWT dealt with the idea of clubs, and I can remember a time when my elementary school friends and I were starting a new club every week. The objective was to alays exclude a few girls. I think I only got left out once.

What series did you read religiously? I started reading one about a gymnastics team called the Pinecones, but I don't remember what the series of books was called. After those, I definitely dabbled in Fear Street and Christipher Pike books. Thinking back, weren't Christopher Pike books really kind of...creepy?

Probably my favorite middle school book was Just as Long as We're Together. I definitely read that one over and over again.

Middle school books were always a toss up - either they were about some huge dork you could relate to, or some totally cool girl you wanted to be.

Labels: childhood

I went to the ear doctor today, once again, for my follow-up visit. Great news -- my left ear has normal hearing and pressure! This means no tube-in-the-ear, and I don't have to go back.

I have spent the last few days trying to move back into my apartment, and get everything in order. I think I have tentative "homes" for the plants, and my groceries are put away, and the laundry is done. Now I'm packing for my San Fran trip. I leave tomorrow, and Stew is coming with me. I was ready to break up with him yesterday, but didn't. We'll see how it goes.

****

When I was little, my parents often took me to a local ice cream place called Suzettes. It would always be packed, especially in the summer. Come to think of it, I'm not sure if it was open in the winter. Anyway...

I remember stopping by each year after my dance recital, joining throngs of other little girls in sparkly costumes ordering a cone or a lemon ice.

Then, they closed. I don't remember when, but it was a long time ago. No one seems to know why.

There is so much development going on around my parents' house. Old grocery stores are being demolished to make way for brand-new buildings. The only way to bring in new business is to raze old buildings, making way for new ones. I suppose that's fine, especially since most of the older buildings in my hometown were pretty ugly anyway. The grocery store where my dad was a manager when I was very little is now a Bed, Bath and Beyond. I hated going to that grocery store normally, but every night on Christmas Eve, my dad would stop in to check on the store late at night on the way home from my grandma's house. I'd get to go inside with him, and creep around in the silent, dimly-lit aisles.

While I was in The 'Flo last week, I noticed the Suzettes building still remains. It's now falling apart, and the parking lot is riddled with grass and weeds. With all of the brand-new buildings nearby, why has anyone allowed this eyesore to stand? If buildings had feelings, this one would feel sad.

Labels: bflo, childhood, mom

About 20 years ago, my great-uncle Teddy got very sick. It was something rather simple, but he was too afraid to go to the doctor. My mother made him go, and he survived. As a thank you, he gave her some money. With that money, she decided to buy herself a dollhouse.

Seems strange, right? A grown woman with a dollhouse? My mother never got a dollhouse of her own when she was little. She always had to play with her older sister's dollhouse, because owning two would be frivalous.

My mom always had huge dreams for the dollhouse. She assembled it, put siding on the outside, painted it and did some wallpapering on the inside. She wired it for electricity and still decorates it for Christmas. She made the term a verb: I'm going to sit home and Dollhouse today. After all these years though, it's nowhere near finished.

This morning, when my dad ran to the grocery story (Must. Keep. Busy. Puttering.), I climbed into bed with my mom and Mallow and we had a little talk. We really only touched the edges of what's going on, but I think it's a good start. It is difficult for my mother to open up and talk about her thoughts, as well as her needs. She is used to taking care of everyone else. She doesn't even know how to know what she wants.

She told me she wanted me to have her car, a 2001 Beetle (Kermit green) that she purchased with cash after she survived her first cancer battle. She used some inheritance money from her mother-in-law, who had been absolutely evil to her until the day she collapsed from a stroke. It was the first car she ever picked out for herself. She thought they were cute and she wanted one. I wish she would have done more things like that, but I'm glad she made up her mind and bought that car.

Then she asked if I wanted her dollhouse. Where in the world am I going to put a massive dollhouse? I thought. Of course I want it. Of course.

Labels: bflo, childhood, mom

Technically, I am neither one. When crisis strikes, I am both.

My mom went to her appointment this afternoon, only to find out that her doctor does not have a treatment plan yet. Afterwards, she called my dad, who played martyr as usual, acting like this news just added to his miserable week.

Is it fair for him to act like this is happening to "him?" No. Do I feel like it's happening to "me?" Sometimes, yes. Do I ever let my mom know I feel that way? NO, because that would be selfish and insensitive. Instead, I vent to my friends and a therapist.

My father doesn't share his feelings. Well, only the ones that pertain to his hardships. Last time around, I took it upon myself to have a talk with my father about antidepressants. In some ways, I held his hand - I asked how he was doing, I empathized with him.

Now he wants a new job, but refuses to apply for one. This weekend, I am positive that my mother and I will work on his resume together. She might even send it out for him. A grown man should be able to take initiative.

My dad and I have always had an unspoken rivalry, with my mom as mediator. We don't express ourselves to one another. Instead, we complain about each other to my mom, who feels hurt and somewhat responsible for the rift. Often times, he has been like brother favored by my mother, instead of a father.

Is my father a bad person? Hardly. He sometimes does unexpected things to show his love. He made me a DVD of my childhood dance recitals. He buys my mom a case of the flavor of Snapple she likes. But in times of crisis, it's not enough.

I suppose this post could be considered a huge chunk of my lifeline post, as it's definitely impacted my life. It scares me sometimes, as I see my father's traits in myself - wallowing, woe-is-me. Yet in times of crisis, I somehow keep going. The first time my mother was sick, I was a wreck with a severe case of anxiety and depression. I wondered how I would make it to class every day. Yet I ended up with a 3.9 that semester, and got myself a job.

In the end, I take responsibility for myself, and, it seems, for others. This must be what it's like to be both a parent and a sibling.

Labels: childhood, cranky, mom