I seriously planned on writing up 30 entries this month... you know, an entry a day... with the occasional catch-up posts... but it's hard shit.
This weekend was hectic... with tons of visits, shopping, drinking, sport-related activities (soccer, French Open, Boxing), and trips to the airport (six times. I went to the airport six times in less than a week's time... three times in less than 24 hours)... then, when I'd try and write, I'd do bullshit like the previous post where I'm overly sentimental or whatever the fuck. I do apologize for that shit... it's just that hard-liquor knocks down my filter with an astonishing speed, especially recently.
Drastic weight loss = lightweight drinking status. Get it through your head, AnoMALIE! You fucking stubborn mule!
So, my lack for proper updates is not due to depression or anything of that nature, I just don't have time.
I'm actually pretty happy... though there HAVE been some bumps along the way. The worst bump is, sadly, Pacemaker's situation. She has been calling me, venting, over her father's situation... which, like I suspected, is pretty bad. When she tells me the results of the tests he undergoes, I try to cheer her up... but in the back of my mind, all I think is "Fuck... that's not good..."
Instead of giving her a piece of my "medical" knowledge (turns out he has lymphoma, which extended to his liver... which, on the first phone call, I very STUPIDLY told her he MIGHT have after she told me his symptoms. I felt like such an asshole when she told me the doctor's diagnosis today), I decide to do what I know I'd prefer to hear when my Pops was sick: I make her laugh.
I'm working some HARD overtime to make her giggle. I feel like someone's dropkicking my heart each time she sobs. It's horrible! My heart breaks and I fight the urge to get on the next flight to the bay just so I can hug her.
She may drive me crazy with her pretentious, condescending, patronizing, elitist remarks... but it's something I've come to accept. I excuse it... because I figure shit in her past has made her that way.
Pacemaker can have a charitable heart. She's hilarious. She's dependable. She's brave. She's silly.
As long as she doesn't turn shit into a competition, she's awesome. Hearing her sobs and broken voice is pretty fucking difficult to endure.
So... as hard as it is to listen to my little Pacemaker cry over the phone, I'll sit there and crack jokes... mention shit I KNOW makes her giggle... and while it was impossible that first time she called me, I've been able to cheer her up all other times-- even getting a roaring laugh last night.
Poor girl...
Another tiny bump is the fact that both my siblings are once again gone.
The fact that we were together this weekend seems like a dream. Sure, we fight A LOT... it's pretty damn obvious there's gonna be beef the moment D takes my car without asking, or when Rafa rocks this despicable shirt around the house:
But once they're gone, the world sucks a little more.
But I now have a trick to beat the blues (not to be confused with the EPL team).
Whenever I feel sad, all I have to do is glance at this photo:
My brother's face cracks me up... hard... to the point where I often have to fight the urge to piss my pants.
We are such interesting specimens...
And now I have to go pee.
This weekend was hectic... with tons of visits, shopping, drinking, sport-related activities (soccer, French Open, Boxing), and trips to the airport (six times. I went to the airport six times in less than a week's time... three times in less than 24 hours)... then, when I'd try and write, I'd do bullshit like the previous post where I'm overly sentimental or whatever the fuck. I do apologize for that shit... it's just that hard-liquor knocks down my filter with an astonishing speed, especially recently.
Drastic weight loss = lightweight drinking status. Get it through your head, AnoMALIE! You fucking stubborn mule!
So, my lack for proper updates is not due to depression or anything of that nature, I just don't have time.
I'm actually pretty happy... though there HAVE been some bumps along the way. The worst bump is, sadly, Pacemaker's situation. She has been calling me, venting, over her father's situation... which, like I suspected, is pretty bad. When she tells me the results of the tests he undergoes, I try to cheer her up... but in the back of my mind, all I think is "Fuck... that's not good..."
Instead of giving her a piece of my "medical" knowledge (turns out he has lymphoma, which extended to his liver... which, on the first phone call, I very STUPIDLY told her he MIGHT have after she told me his symptoms. I felt like such an asshole when she told me the doctor's diagnosis today), I decide to do what I know I'd prefer to hear when my Pops was sick: I make her laugh.
I'm working some HARD overtime to make her giggle. I feel like someone's dropkicking my heart each time she sobs. It's horrible! My heart breaks and I fight the urge to get on the next flight to the bay just so I can hug her.
She may drive me crazy with her pretentious, condescending, patronizing, elitist remarks... but it's something I've come to accept. I excuse it... because I figure shit in her past has made her that way.
Pacemaker can have a charitable heart. She's hilarious. She's dependable. She's brave. She's silly.
As long as she doesn't turn shit into a competition, she's awesome. Hearing her sobs and broken voice is pretty fucking difficult to endure.
So... as hard as it is to listen to my little Pacemaker cry over the phone, I'll sit there and crack jokes... mention shit I KNOW makes her giggle... and while it was impossible that first time she called me, I've been able to cheer her up all other times-- even getting a roaring laugh last night.
Poor girl...
Another tiny bump is the fact that both my siblings are once again gone.
The fact that we were together this weekend seems like a dream. Sure, we fight A LOT... it's pretty damn obvious there's gonna be beef the moment D takes my car without asking, or when Rafa rocks this despicable shirt around the house:
 |
| FUCK that guy, man! |
But I now have a trick to beat the blues (not to be confused with the EPL team).
Whenever I feel sad, all I have to do is glance at this photo:
 |
| "PRESS THE BUTTON!" Must. Hold in. Pee. |
We are such interesting specimens...
And now I have to go pee.
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