I hate to admit
I hate to admit this. I really do. I’m starting to like the Apple keyboard.
There, I said it. Oh lord, what’s next for me – I’ll want one of those stupid-ass mice that don’t have any buttons?
Save me.
Well, the mystery bug bite, whatever it was, is almost gone. I guess I will never know what it was that got me. I think I halfway expected the doctor to say “Oh yes, that’s an arpanthicara mystopheres bite, very rare, and how strong you must be to have lived through it.”
Did you know that when you join a RingSurf ring, your password gets mailed to the ringmaster? I think it’s a basic case of laziness; they just CC the confirmation letter to both joinee and ringmaster. I wrote them a Strongly Worded Letter telling them if they don’t change it, I’m going to take my toys and go home.
Everything seems rosier in hindsight. Thinking back to those days when we’d have Spades tournaments all day long and play Nintendo Monopoly and hang out it seems like… dunno… ideal? But I know it wasn’t a bed of roses. I was supposed to be going to school but was skipping all my classes and I felt terribly guilty about it. I still have nightmares about skipping classes but not being able to stop doing it, or forgetting when classes were.
My relationship with my family was very strained at that time. Two of my family members even came to town to stage a sort of mini-intervention with me to get my ass on the right track. I was so defensive at that point that their visit did absolutely nothing for me but make me utterly resentful.
My brother wrote me a very frustrated and angry letter then, basically telling me to grow up and take some responsibility. It shocked me, but furthered me on the road of resentment. A couple of years ago, during a quiet moment while I was visiting him, he pulled me aside and said “I wrote you an angry letter a few years ago. I want you to know how proud of you I am now, for coming so far in your life from where you were then.” I think that was the best moment I’ve ever had with him, and it meant so much to me for him to say that, and I’ve never been able to tell him that.
Looking back on that time now is like looking at a movie of someone else’s life. Now I’m the (mostly) responsible one, with a husband and a house and 2 little girls and a dog and three cats. And nothing else seems to piss me off more than to look at a friend who can’t turn herself around the way I did. I would write more about her, but it’s not my story to tell. A very sad story at that. I miss her a lot and wish that we were still on the same page of life. I don’ t know if we ever will be again, and that breaks my heart.
Well I’m depressed now.