to make really long and boring blogs that no one in their right mind should read.
DAD:
today, my great uncle kent was talking to jen about her husband. and then dad said, "oh yeah trish where's your husband? on a mission!"
two things:
1. please stop making me feel like an old maid dad. i'm 19. i don't need to have a husband yet.
2. please stop acting like i am already married to jaxon or even acting like i'm GOING to marry jaxon.
MOM:
today after dinner she was like, "trisha, did someone hurt you? you seem so mad at the world and cynical these days."
two things:
1. i am not cynical! (?)
2. if i am, then yes. you hurt me. can you really not see that ?
maybe i am cynical. i can think of about a million things to complain about and yell about and cuss about and yet... i can only think of one really: nothing goes my way.
i'm so spoiled and rotten and i'm trying so hard right now to count my blessings and all that but its so hard when all i want is out of this rotten spoiled mess.
this kind of crying is my favorite kind. where the tears just stream endlessly out of your eyes and trickle down your cheeks; tickling your nose and salting your mouth. there are no heaving sobs involved with this kind of sorrow. its the most peaceful anguish possible.
DAD:
today, my great uncle kent was talking to jen about her husband. and then dad said, "oh yeah trish where's your husband? on a mission!"
two things:
1. please stop making me feel like an old maid dad. i'm 19. i don't need to have a husband yet.
2. please stop acting like i am already married to jaxon or even acting like i'm GOING to marry jaxon.
MOM:
today after dinner she was like, "trisha, did someone hurt you? you seem so mad at the world and cynical these days."
two things:
1. i am not cynical! (?)
2. if i am, then yes. you hurt me. can you really not see that ?
maybe i am cynical. i can think of about a million things to complain about and yell about and cuss about and yet... i can only think of one really: nothing goes my way.
i'm so spoiled and rotten and i'm trying so hard right now to count my blessings and all that but its so hard when all i want is out of this rotten spoiled mess.
this kind of crying is my favorite kind. where the tears just stream endlessly out of your eyes and trickle down your cheeks; tickling your nose and salting your mouth. there are no heaving sobs involved with this kind of sorrow. its the most peaceful anguish possible.
grandpa didn't want the military funeral everyone said. and then when the man being buried closest to grandpa received the gun shots everyone laughed and said, "how ironic!" and then the bugle started playing and grandma softly exclaimed "its a miracle!" and those peaceful flowing tears began from my eyes. standing in the mud in the beautiful february weather and listening to the miracle of that hauntingly eloquent melody, i have never felt more at peace.
i loved today when grandma came up to me and said "we have the same name!" and i said "yeah! we do!" and she grabbed me in a hug and laughed.
today felt like sunday. and then like saturday. but never like monday. which will make tuesday pretty hard.
i loved today when grandma came up to me and said "we have the same name!" and i said "yeah! we do!" and she grabbed me in a hug and laughed.
today felt like sunday. and then like saturday. but never like monday. which will make tuesday pretty hard.
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