"You are going to be soo bored."
I can't count how many people at work have said this to me. And they were all right. I knew they were. You would think that having a child on the way in a brand new apartment would supply me with many things to do while on leave. Yes, you would think. But the sad truth is: I can't force myself to do any of it. I have had a nice, tame pregnancy. I had the usual morning sickness for the first trimester but other than that I have been very lucky.
But now, here it is. I am past the nine month mark, little Jonas could come at any second, and I am too tired and sore to lift myself up to do anything. It's hard to walk around. It's hard to move. Who knew that so many crotch muscles were used just to get off the couch? Well, it hurts. I feel old and crippled.
And there is also the fact that, and I am sorry to say this, our new apartment frustrates me. Horribly. I like the apartment itself. It's cute, has a perfect sized bedroom for Jonas and lots of windows. However, it was given to us dirty. And in need of repairs. Now, I know.. wah wah, this kind of stuff happens all of the time. But am I terribly naive to think that a landlord should take care of these things before the next tenants move in? I really don't think so. I like cleaning. I like to have a clean living space. I always found some kind of strange happiness in cleaning my apartment. However, I was cleaning MY dirtiness. MY messes. The idea of coming into a new place and having to clean up someone else's mess makes me nauseous. We have lived here for about six weeks and still have not used the oven because it is disgusting on the inside and I refuse to use it until it is clean. I also refuse to clean it. Someone else should have and it pisses me off that it was left to me to do it. So I'm not doing it. Mature? No. Spiteful and possibly irrational? Yes. Do I care?! Honestly, no. Should this be the attitude of a brand new mother? Probably not. But I know that my frustration with this place (oh and also, the bathroom floor needs to be completely redone) has stoped me from my nesting. I want Jonas to come home to a clean place and good home, but I just don't know if I truly feel like this place is it. It frustrates me, and stops me from further making it better. It's like I feel like it started off bad, so it's going to stay that way.
The good news is, we are on a month to month lease. We can leave whenever the hell we feel like it. Now, I am sure it won't be any time soon. We just got here, we just got semi unpacked, and doing all of that all over again so soon sounds ridiculous. Especially with a newborn. But I have to admit that I get so tempted, still, to look for a different place.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Saturday, December 20, 2008
life.
Around the time of my last post was when my first child was conceived. A child that took me two entire months to accept. Two entire months to stop referring to it as the "parasite", or the "gross ass fetus". Two entire months to want it. It has graduated from those terms of lack of endearment and is now being called, simply, Jonas. Jonas Charles. I am 18 weeks pregnant, and I have finally grown quite fond of him over the past couple of weeks.
I have felt so lucky, lately. The fact that this happened with David. He has changed so much since his life in Arizona. More mature. He no longer feels like he has to be the clown. Doesn't have to act out passive aggressively towards the people he surrounded his life with. He can just be himself. Be happy. And I am happy to be something that helped bring that necessary change to his life.
Everything that has happened with us has felt like a natural progression; the next step. When I first saw those two pink lines on the white stick after two weeks of what I thought was the stomach flu, or food poisoning, I cried. Not tears of joy, mind you. I went to David on the couch and he smiled, and put his arms around me. He made a nervous giggle, but I knew he was happy. He was willing to do anything that I wanted. Keep it. Don't keep it. But I knew that deep down he wanted to keep it more than anything else. Well, lucky for him, abortion is something that never sat well with me. It was never an option. Two months after that night, and one week after my first ultra sound and introduction to what I was told was my son, I joined David in being happy.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the things David went through in his life in Arizona, and it upsets me. I hate that he went through the things that he went through, but I am grateful for them as well. Those things led him here, to me. Ever since the first day that we moved in together I have felt so grateful. I felt like this is the person I was supposed to be with for all of these years. The person I deserved. The person who will love and be as selfless as anyone can be. I try like hell to give it back to him, and so far I think I do an okay job. Maybe not as good of a job as he does, but I still try.
I never wanted kids. It's not something I grew up dreaming of. It was an accident. But it's something I now welcome happily. I don't know if this is my life figuring itself out, but I can truly say that I like the direction it has started to go in.
I have felt so lucky, lately. The fact that this happened with David. He has changed so much since his life in Arizona. More mature. He no longer feels like he has to be the clown. Doesn't have to act out passive aggressively towards the people he surrounded his life with. He can just be himself. Be happy. And I am happy to be something that helped bring that necessary change to his life.
Everything that has happened with us has felt like a natural progression; the next step. When I first saw those two pink lines on the white stick after two weeks of what I thought was the stomach flu, or food poisoning, I cried. Not tears of joy, mind you. I went to David on the couch and he smiled, and put his arms around me. He made a nervous giggle, but I knew he was happy. He was willing to do anything that I wanted. Keep it. Don't keep it. But I knew that deep down he wanted to keep it more than anything else. Well, lucky for him, abortion is something that never sat well with me. It was never an option. Two months after that night, and one week after my first ultra sound and introduction to what I was told was my son, I joined David in being happy.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the things David went through in his life in Arizona, and it upsets me. I hate that he went through the things that he went through, but I am grateful for them as well. Those things led him here, to me. Ever since the first day that we moved in together I have felt so grateful. I felt like this is the person I was supposed to be with for all of these years. The person I deserved. The person who will love and be as selfless as anyone can be. I try like hell to give it back to him, and so far I think I do an okay job. Maybe not as good of a job as he does, but I still try.
I never wanted kids. It's not something I grew up dreaming of. It was an accident. But it's something I now welcome happily. I don't know if this is my life figuring itself out, but I can truly say that I like the direction it has started to go in.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Anything
And I could take another hit for you
And I could take away your trips from you
And I could take away the salt from your eyes
And take away the spitting salt in you
And I could give you my apologies
By handing over my neologies
And I could take away the shaking knees
And I could give you all the olive trees
Oh look at the trees and look at my face
And look at a place far away from here
So give me your eyes
I need sunshine
Give me your eyes
I need sunshine
Your blood, your bones
Your voice, and your ghost
We've both been very brave
Walk around with both legs
Wait for the scary day
We both pull the tricks out of our sleeves
But I'll believe in anything
And you'll believe in anything
And I could take away your trips from you
And I could take away the salt from your eyes
And take away the spitting salt in you
And I could give you my apologies
By handing over my neologies
And I could take away the shaking knees
And I could give you all the olive trees
Oh look at the trees and look at my face
And look at a place far away from here
So give me your eyes
I need sunshine
Give me your eyes
I need sunshine
Your blood, your bones
Your voice, and your ghost
We've both been very brave
Walk around with both legs
Wait for the scary day
We both pull the tricks out of our sleeves
But I'll believe in anything
And you'll believe in anything
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Saturday, June 14, 2008
An Unconventional Ode
Dearest Angela Chase,
You have helped me so much throughout the duration of my growing up. I loved your family, your house, your friends. They always comforted me in ways I cannot explain. I often considered myself to be a younger version of you, and looked up to you. Things you have said over the years have become like a religion to me. You have so much pure and simple wisdom, and word things in such an obviously genius way that it's the most truth anyone has ever told me.
You were there when I first entered John Yeates Middle School. When I first noticed the differences in people. The way in which I was different from people. In the eighth grade, when I befriended "the popular kids" and was sucked into inevitable drama and cruelty.
When I entered High School, I found myself longing for your presence even more. I became more like you than I could even realize at the time. I became a thinker like you. I started to hate hypocracy, repetition. I became all too familiar with human nature, the way other people's brains work. I began to read people, and noticed that they were like clockwork.
I fell in love with a boy. The second thing I loved outside of my family after Smashing Pumpkins (which you also loved). I lived and breathed him as you did your Jordan. He broke my heart like Jordan broke yours. My best friend betrayed me, just like yours did. I had my first boyfriend. Then my second. That one lasted me for four more years after graduation.
I do not know what happened to you after High School. You could have become very successful. You could have worked in retail. You could have married. Jordan, Brian, who knows.
But you were always there. Whenever I was lied to, you were there. Whenever my I got my first job, you were there. I quit my first job, you offered me the most comfort that anyone had to offer. I always preferred you over everyone else. No one understood me like you did. No one understood you like I did.
Now I am 23. I am on job number three and boyfriend number three. I am the same me, only multiplied by about 100. I am smarter, funnier, prettier, more snobby, more closed off, more sarcastic, more of a perfectionist, and more obsessive compulsive. I have habits I can't shake. I still peel my skin around my fingernails. I count things constantly. Tangible or not. My eyes repeatedly trace patterns. And then count them. It is quite annoying but I can't stop. Something tells me you probably do the same kinds of things, and it makes me smile.
I owe a lot to you. You have made my life so much easier to deal with. Whenever I would come home, lie on the couch, tears in my eyes, you would automatically cheer me up. I would get swept away in your world. It became my own. Please do not be upset that I have recently graduated on to a more (argumentatively) mature retreat. More literature, music, and film obsessed, less teen drama. It describes me fairly well at this point in my life. It sweeps me away from any unhappy moments I have. It makes me smile and forget the world just as easily as you did. You have not been replaced. We all go through phases. Although my love for both you and my two Lor's will last a lifetime.
Sincerely,
Kasey
You have helped me so much throughout the duration of my growing up. I loved your family, your house, your friends. They always comforted me in ways I cannot explain. I often considered myself to be a younger version of you, and looked up to you. Things you have said over the years have become like a religion to me. You have so much pure and simple wisdom, and word things in such an obviously genius way that it's the most truth anyone has ever told me.
You were there when I first entered John Yeates Middle School. When I first noticed the differences in people. The way in which I was different from people. In the eighth grade, when I befriended "the popular kids" and was sucked into inevitable drama and cruelty.
When I entered High School, I found myself longing for your presence even more. I became more like you than I could even realize at the time. I became a thinker like you. I started to hate hypocracy, repetition. I became all too familiar with human nature, the way other people's brains work. I began to read people, and noticed that they were like clockwork.
I fell in love with a boy. The second thing I loved outside of my family after Smashing Pumpkins (which you also loved). I lived and breathed him as you did your Jordan. He broke my heart like Jordan broke yours. My best friend betrayed me, just like yours did. I had my first boyfriend. Then my second. That one lasted me for four more years after graduation.
I do not know what happened to you after High School. You could have become very successful. You could have worked in retail. You could have married. Jordan, Brian, who knows.
But you were always there. Whenever I was lied to, you were there. Whenever my I got my first job, you were there. I quit my first job, you offered me the most comfort that anyone had to offer. I always preferred you over everyone else. No one understood me like you did. No one understood you like I did.
Now I am 23. I am on job number three and boyfriend number three. I am the same me, only multiplied by about 100. I am smarter, funnier, prettier, more snobby, more closed off, more sarcastic, more of a perfectionist, and more obsessive compulsive. I have habits I can't shake. I still peel my skin around my fingernails. I count things constantly. Tangible or not. My eyes repeatedly trace patterns. And then count them. It is quite annoying but I can't stop. Something tells me you probably do the same kinds of things, and it makes me smile.
I owe a lot to you. You have made my life so much easier to deal with. Whenever I would come home, lie on the couch, tears in my eyes, you would automatically cheer me up. I would get swept away in your world. It became my own. Please do not be upset that I have recently graduated on to a more (argumentatively) mature retreat. More literature, music, and film obsessed, less teen drama. It describes me fairly well at this point in my life. It sweeps me away from any unhappy moments I have. It makes me smile and forget the world just as easily as you did. You have not been replaced. We all go through phases. Although my love for both you and my two Lor's will last a lifetime.
Sincerely,
Kasey
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