The blogging community can be a gigantic ass kiss fest at times, but there is one blog that has stayed for me, and for many others, one of the best pieces of writing out there.
December 2009
Grandmother
Age: 83
Children: One daughter and one granddaughter
Likes: dressing nicely, wearing heels to the gym, and preparing beautiful meals that you cannot touch
Dislikes: “people who pretend they are something that they are not.”
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Grandmother’s Special Friend
Religion: Passive Jew
Children: 3 sons, 2 stepsons, and 4 grandchildren
Likes: “people who pretend they are something that they are not and are good at it.”
Dislikes: “…you know….things…”
“Home is where I want to be pick me up and turn me ’round”– Talking Heads
It’s that time again.
That time of the year that you go home. To the place that you experienced your childhood. The place your Mom and Dad live. The place that has the only bed that has ever mattered.
The place that still holds onto the life that you left behind when you were told to grow up.
But each time you go home. It feels a little different. A little off.
You can’t quite put your finger on it as you stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars you affixed to your ceiling seventeen years ago.
Why don’t I feel like I’m home? This looks like my home. Those are the same stickers on the back of my door, whose exact trace has never left my fingers. Those are the same milky stains in the floorboards, whose existence came to be as Sammy aged and became incontinent. Those are the same windows that over look the highway, whose path took me away from here five years ago.
This trip you decide you’re going to dig a little deeper. Tear away (more…)
There are three ceiling fans in Papa’s Pantry.
Wait, aren’t I still in Los Angeles?
It feels terrifying.
I slept in Lourdsburg, New Mexico last night. A railroad town, a border town. Not a ghost walked the lone sidewalk. I drove down the main drag to one cheap motel after another. Neglected and outdated signs guiding the way. They all looked the same. Midnight and stucco. Cream and rot. Somewhere in the dark, I spotted a florescent beacon that told (more…)
With the new year pending, you’re probably thinking, “January 1st will be a good time to abandon the wife and child in the night and start a new life somewhere else”.
Well don’t come to Austin, TX.
Especially if you’re from L.A.
I was the last person they let in from California here in Texas. The gates are locked and they don’t want anyone else, you hear?
I’m sorry California didn’t give you your tax return this year but go to South Dakota or Idaho. The unemployment rate is ridiculously low there right now. Let me tell you, animal husbandry will be ten times more rewarding than being a corporate drone.
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Austin is too good for me. I don’t deserve her.
She took me in with open arms after I tore away from the suffocating hands of Los Angeles. No questions asked. Just picked me up, brushed me off, and rocked me to sleep.
She’s still rocking me.
When people ask me, “So, how is living in Texas?” with that little grin suggesting what they’re really asking is, “So, what on Earth possessed (more…)
Best Movie:
For the love of God! I don’t think I’ve ever been this depressed before! This has to be the lowest I’ve ever felt in my entire life! I am so unbelievably lost and lonely right now! My brain hurts and my heart perpetually aches! I don’t think it can get any worse than this!
Just when I think my twenties have reached the pinnacle of patheticness, I flip through my diary and am surprised to discover the same sentences, word for word, written every couple of months for the past five years.
What the fuck?
Have I been this whiny for awhile now? Or do I just have a pension for exclamations and dramatic adjectives like most girls my age?
Can someone please explain to me why during the most exciting time in our lives, we are positively convinced that we’re doomed to a lifetime of soul-charring careers and vapid relationships that culminates in a house filled with an array of pets named after our favorite soap stars and a refrigerator covered in pictures of other people’s children? Jason and Melissa’s (more…)