Blog Every Day August: 8/7

In two weeks I will be a college student and a six hour drive from my current home. In two weeks I will leave my mom, the one person who has never forsaken me. I feel as though this movement will displace me somehow; I shan't exist any longer. In two weeks all of this will be gone.

This waiting game is one I have known all too well, yet its compass now dips into uncharted territory. This waiting game has never ended before. Now the countdown once set at a trickle pace hurtles toward an end I cannot imagine fully.

New belongings have slowly overtaken a corner of my room as the summer has progressed. I haven't yet had the heart to disassemble that which I already own and use regularly. Instead I create list upon list of to-dos with the frustrated knowledge that for all my planning there will be something I forget or cannot obtain until I am immersed in a new location.

I sit quietly, suspended and numb in the knowledge that I will soon be gone.

I haven't cried enough. I haven't written enough. I haven't... enough.

I will never be ready. Maybe this is what burns the most.

Blog Every Day August: 8/6

Currently I am conversing with my good friend John on the telephone. He is the one human I have truly befriended here in the realm of tiny town Texas and I shall miss him immensely when I depart. Our friendship is an odd but quality one. He is also participating in Blog Every Day August, which certainly adds to his class levels (visit him!).

Last month we went on a glorious faux date and saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II together. I wore my Ravenclaw tie and he paid for my ticket and refused to let me open doors for myself; it was delightfully cheesy.

"Why are you leaving?" he demands.

"I'm a cruel, cruel person."

"I'm glad you realize that."

Blog Every Day August: 8/5

I feel that if ever there were an appropriate moment to pledge my love to an inanimate object, it would be now. Ralph was installed in my home today and I believe we will be very happy together. I am fully committed to making this long distance relationship work. Nothing will stop our love.

Our old friend Dobbin contacted me via everyone's favorite (cough) social networking website a week ago, in desperate need to atone for his sins. Or, rather, inform me of his sins. You know, over a year following his unceremonious dumping of yours truly via text message. Luckily I knew them, or else I might very well have died in utter shock. I said just enough to convey I was willing to listen. Our largely one-sided "conversation" was about him, not me; it was, I figured, his party. 

And you know what I did, my friends? I forgave him.

I'd like to clear up a common misconception here. Forgiveness does not equal reconciliation, nor does it have to in order to be meaningful. Forgiveness allows for all parties in an unfortunate situation to move on. Forgiveness allows closure. This is what I did for Dobbin. He needed to be forgiven. 

This does not mean that I plan to associate with him again. This does not mean that I will accept the friend request he inevitably sent me a day later. And this certainly does not mean that he isn't a scumbag.

I could have said a lot of things to Dobbin. 

Instead I let go. It feels good.

Blog Every Day August: 8/4

Today temperatures in tiny town Texas reached a walloping 109 degrees Fahrenheit; my brethren and I have been forced to have our canine friend boarded with the vet and find refuge in a hotel room following Bertha's untimely demise. I spent the afternoon in my mother's current place of business keeping cool and watching children's movies. Toy Story 3 had me positively in knots. I don't know that I will ever forgive Andy for giving his friends away, honestly.

The things I cannot say tug at my tender edges until I feel torn in half.

More often than not I have neither words nor a desire for them. There is a blankness inside me that wasn't there before. Part of me (most of me) thinks this: It was in times of greatest turmoil that I found words. In learning to cope I have lost them. In straightening out my thoughts I have misplaced the skewed, topsy turvy sort of logic that lent some skewed, topsy turvy sort of sense to my world then.

I have sea legs; this stillness boggles and nauseates me.

Blog Every Day August: 8/3

I dearly wish to entertain you, my friends. Truly I do. However, lacking a working air conditioner in August (in Texas!) is less than a happy event and has seriously negated my work ethic. I may or may not be slowly turning into an unrecognizable blob of sweat. Don't worry! I'll reconstitute eventually. Until then, I'm the one raving madly about llamas and trickery in the glitter distribution industry to anyone who wished listen (and a few who don't). It's difficult to miss me.

For now I find myself sitting as still as possible in front of my computer (it's hot, but it's also necessary for survival) with the lights off. My portable fan is working its heart out. I've opened the window behind me for the first time in my memory and am even wearing capris. To those unaware of the enormity of this wardrobe change, I have lived in extremely warm climates for years and still refuse to wear anything but long pants. I will make brief forays into skirt wearing for the amusement and fun of it, but long pants are where my fashion deprived soul finds true nourishment.

I find great delight in my crazy; you needn't worry.

Bertha's replacement is to be installed on Friday. I hear he is a dapper and up-and-coming gentleman who shall make my brethren and I exceedingly joyous; I believe I will call him Ralph.

Until then, let us take this time to ruminate on the admirable service our Bertha provided. May her spirit rest peacefully in GACPA forevermore.

Blog Every Day August: 8/2

Today's edition of Blog Every Day August is brought to you by Bertha, the air conditioner who semi-faithfully served my current place of inhabitance for seventeen years. 

Following an extended period of illness, this evening Bertha's spirit departed planet earth* in favor of the Great Air Conditioning Palace Above (GACPA). Bertha lived to a ripe old age in her home, where she enjoyed whispering sweet lullabies to fellow inhabitants and serving her life's purpose adequately in the blistering heat of tiny town Texas. She is survived by three humans, two felines and one canine. A memorial service will follow; well wishers are advised to dress casually.

* There were fumes and many loud noises. It was quite dramatic and heart wrenching, I assure you; Miss Bertha certainly had panache. 

Blog Every Day August: 8/1

The days collapse into one another painstakingly and as quietly as if they never existed. I am surrounded by the unwritten; all things notable seem somehow too secret, scary and sensitive to voice. I tread around them carefully, afraid my very touch will make them immediately real. Words are difficult: each one stings a little as I pry it from the recesses of my consciousness. I almost want to stop fighting for them.

Yet it is now more than ever that I require the anchoring power I once found in words.

Welcome to Blog Every Day August, friends.