the sky creaks
as it stretches to hold the earth

i fill my eyes
and it holds me too

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Said Lime to me once, What's it like to have a piece of glass between you and the world?

I don't remember what I said to him then, and I'm guessing probably nothing, because unless you wake up every morning seeing as I do, it's hard to explain. The world is blurred like how it is when you're spinning, except it happens even when you're still. And normally that scares me.

But I shove on my glasses quickly in the morning, and so I don't end up thinking about it much. But some days I'll wake up, walk over to my desk and wash my hands lightly over it like I'm mixing majong tiles, and still I won't find my glasses. I suddenly notice how crippled I am, and I'll think about how these eyes might not always work for me. I'll think too, about calling out to Trumon in the next room for help, but that's like giving myself in to impotence, so I don't.

I remember - I was in the shotgun of the car and Starr was smiling and saying something to me. But in the instant he turned to bring his eyes back on the road, it wasn't the definition of his cheekbones or the swing of his hair or whatever other rosey-eyed cliché that caught my attention. What I saw was that the plastic discs before his eyes were as substantial as mine. And I knew he would understand.

Went downstairs for a second to do chores for mom. Came back to find this: 




You heard the man! Get some snooze you sleep-deprived Xangans. Bonne nuit-

these words should draw you closer but instead they draw me out
there are my entrails and these end rails and i know my heart stops here

i throw the words
(( overboard ))
and hope they will at least feed the whales

when sleep comes too slowly
i tell myself that tomorrow
we'll be the same people
we'll be the same

 
my heart stood in red
red is how you are in all its pictures

and while you were somewhere in the seamless sky
- lips kissing the air, your mermaid hair and your arms flying -
i wondered

if, on that day, i had taken a step towards you
would i have been close enough to give you my heart
and these pictures of red

I read story long ago in something like a Chicken Soup book about a boy who grew up to become a happy, balanced person. His late, single father however, had lived and died as an incurable alcoholic. When asked how his father had managed to raise such a successful son, the man replied, "My dad came in every night to tuck me in bed and to say 'I love you'."

One of the most bizarre things about living under Louise's roof was that everyone kissed and hugged one another. Even fourteen-year-old rebel tween JP would hug and kiss his grandmother. I never grew up with anything like that - my parents don't even show affection to one another. They act more like business partners than lovers. But after reading that story I knew that that was what I wanted Trumon to be raised with.

I would go in to tuck him good night - and then I would say everything except 'I love you'. I managed it once or twice, and then I forgot about it. Not because I stopped caring, but because I didn't want to think about why it was so difficult for me.

That was back when Trumon was still small enough for me to pick up and swing around. Now he looks and acts like a teenager. You'll tell me that it's not too late, that it's never too late, but that's what it feels like.

Mom was in a horrible mood last week, to the point where she would deliberately find things to yell at us about if we smiled too much or if we moved a lot around the room. Then one day she didn't lash out at me when I said a tentative good morning. Mom tries to pretend like she's too cool for school and too cool for us kids sometimes, but she couldn't help gushing to me about the new car that dad is buying her.

It was depressing to think about how happy mom was about putting another new car on the road, but also I was impressed. I don't think mom's ever owned a brand new car, and the car dad is buying her is more expensive than his was when he bought it. It occured to me that maybe dad really does care about her.

OK I know my xanga has lately been oozing sap like a maple tree (yum) but I swear I don't go around wrapped up in nostalgia. That's just what writing is for, y'know? I take time here sometimes to remember people I've forgotten that I love.

I don't like it when people walk around in their clouds. The last thing that I am is an emo chick. There's too much to be thankful for. For example, I didn't get bit by mosquitos today!

------------------

Captain said I played well tonight : ) I started off the season quite out of shape and lacking confidence in my abilities, but I did lots of yoga and screwed on my head back right and I've been doing well for the past 3 weeks. Now to keep it up!

One of the teams we played with today had spirit awards to give away to one boy and one girl on our team and they gave me a Dam Good Beaver Buzz drink. I don't know what to do with it cause I don't plan on drinking energy drinks ever. They're nasty X(  I forced Trumon   I bullied Trumon into  Trumon was nice enough to model it for me :] 

aww c'mon lookit that lang jei smile you know he wanted to

Don't drink energy drinks!

I found Louise in my inbox this morning.

How many flowers end up at the funeral home and how many flowers did the dead person enjoy while they were alive?
Here's an eflower from me! Enjoy your day!

You'll call it spam, but it's different when it comes from Louise. The email recepients were myself and her daughter, Laurie.

It meant the world to me. You see, Louise is the mother I always wanted. She's the kind of mom who sings Hotel California with me around the campfire. The kind who tells me to eat as many strawberries as I can when we're crouching in the U-Pick field because (heehee) it's free. The kind who bakes molasses cookies and then laughs as I eat my sixth one in a row. The kind who is concerned about my supply of maple candy for when I go on a road trip, the kind who isn't afraid to cry and to hold me like I belonged to her before I got on the train back to British Columbia.

One day I'll go out with the boyfriend and have Trumon come along. I'll bring a camera and the three of us will camwhore like the pros - eyes gleaming like we're at Disneyland and lips pouting like we're Miley Cyrus. I'll send them to Louise and introduce her to mon nouveau chum and I know it'll make her smile. She'll be happy for me and I will have shown her - See Louise? See what a responsible and wholesome person I've become. See how balanced and happy my family is. Just like yours.

i know i don't deserve this
one day we won't have to be here anymore

I don’t encourage IRL friends to read me because I mention their names here sometimes. I write to deal with drama, not to create more of it. I often have to censor myself when I talk about people in order to make my thoughts appropriate for polite society.

I don't actually mind censoring if it's done out of respect for my friends. What's inappropriate is when IRL people drop in to read when they’re not bloggers themselves. Signin Lock doesn’t keep out the people who have accounts solely for the purpose of Xanga stalking.

It's dishonest. I don't write to put myself behind a one-way mirror.

Friendship is a two-way lane, and the same goes for this type of online relationship. It doesn't make sense for people to think they know me or think that we’re close when I don’t get the same type of sharing back from them. People come to Xanga to be vulnerable. But you're here just to eavesdrop, if you don’t understand this struggle because you don’t put yourself out there in the same way, then I don’t want to be vulnerable for you.

-------------------------------------------------

Once in awhile I receive outside intelligence that IRL friends are reading my xanga. While we may or may not be dear friends offline, this comes as an unwelcome surprise if I wasn't previously aware of your readership - either you don't keep a xanga yourself or you never comment on the posts that you read.

I didn't like it when Kirby read my xanga. I said that to him and his response was, it's a free internet. Once it's up, it's game; it's not yours anymore. 

Is that true? If it was I wouldn't blog like how I do. I've been on kaiori almost 7 years now. I come here every day, sometimes to write, sometimes to read, and sometimes just to have a place to go to. On here are the friends who are often the first to support and to comfort me when anything happens. This is where I come to be pathetic when nothing in life is going right. I've put up some really bad and some really good writing.

Do you understand? I put my heart on here. This place is mine. And that's the beauty of the World Web; the internet makes it possible for people to carve out their own niche area where they can express themselves in like-minded communities. When I say "Xanga community" that's exactly what I mean - us Xangans who blog, read, talk to and support one another. Either you're one of us or you're not. 

And if you're not, then what are you doing here?

I regret to say that I will be using Footprints lock from now on. I know that it's just another application to everyone else and that it's really not such a big deal, but as a Communications student I stand strongly aginst the use of digital surveillance technologies. We're already being watched by the police, our cell phones, Google Maps, CCTV cameras on every street corner, etc. How is there any trust in the world if us common folk also start to turn on one another?

It saddens me that the Xanga Powers gave us the tools to spy on one another and worse, that I'm now finding it a necessity. I tried to keep my xanga open and free to as many people for as long as possible. Each time there was an incident I told myself that it was just that one person who came here by accident. But there's been way too much drama, and you don't happen upon secret xangas by accident.

That's not to say I don't like my non-blogging friends. Says Jinryu, "Want to get to know me? Let's go for a coffee. That way I can talk and you can talk back."

Cause that's what friendships are made of. That's something the Internet doesn't change.