You can take the road that will get you to the stars, I can take the road that will see me through. - Nick Drake

that quote always reminds me of that dumb conversation I had with Reuben.About how he thinks religion is fine, until people start basing their decisions on it.Which is exactly what I do. End of relationship. I’m not ashamed of my beliefs, I just pity those people who think I should be.
Today Jareth made some crack about believing in God, and then said to Camille, “oh no, maybe I shouldn’t say that around Molly, she might get mad at me” and laughed….
Then Camille answered “even if I DIDN’T believe in God, I’d still think you’re an idiot.”
No one expects it from Camille, I think . . . maybe because they still see her as the 15 year old practicing Wicca. I’ve been wondering… about people who annoy EVERYONE in their lives so much, but make no attempt to change, and then wonder why they have no real friends.
Maybe if they didn’t treat everyone like crap.
It makes me feel sorry for them, while at the same time, frankly, I can’t stand them either.
I’m lucky to have the friends I do. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much I love them. Camille, Carlye and Rachel in particular. They’re my three best and brightest friends and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t trade them in for anything.
As annoying and pointless as Family Management is, I’m going to miss being in a class with all three of them.
Having Allyson, Tiffany and Katelyn in that class was cool too. I can’t believe the semester is really, truly over. Things like this don’t usually concern me, it’s just a new semester…
and it’s not like any of my classes were particularly amazing either… but I have an attachment to them. Plus, I’m pretty sure I’m the ONLY person not on half days next semester.
Camille and Carlye both are, I don’t think Rachel is… I’m pretty sure she has physics, bio and chemistry in that one semester though… ouch. I’m going to miss Biology with Allyson and Katelyn, and I’m especially going to miss Mrs. Van… teacher of the freaking decade.
Then there’s English… everyone in that class was pretty cool, but it’s not like I wont still see Rachel and Cami all the time anyway. I’m going to miss sitting around on my ass during spare, that’s for sure. Who knew listening to Camille and Ben go on about breakfast bagels while sitting in Sharkey’s could become such a necessary part of my day?
Definitely not going to miss Jareth following us around though . . . ugh.I’m pretty sure this is just my fear of change rearing it’s ugly head again . . . or my fear of the future. I don’t want any of this to change! In 5 months Carlye, Camille and Caitlyn are going to disappear to Victoria, Jessy and Mary are off to C.R, and I’m left here with no ambition or purpose. Carlye and Camille promise they are coming back… but it’s still going to suck. Carlye’s already made the decision that the four of us are going to have our kids at the same time. And in 10 years we’ll be 27 and having thanksgiving together at her house. Rachel will be popping postpartum depression pills, Camille will be screaming at 2 little brats that look like Josh Reno, and I’ll be the sunshiny one with my hair in a beehive, 6 kids named Sandy, Mandy, Dandy, Andy and other names ending in -ndy, a husband named Randy, and my name legally changed to Candy (this is CARLYE’S theory) while Carlye is the “normal mom”.. . .that’s what we do during family management… but it’s Mrs. Turner’s fault for making us watch those dreadful child rearing videos on how to get the most out of your 2 year old.
I sometimes wonder if I’ll be a good mom. What will I do if I have a problem? I won’t have my own mother to call for help… although I suppose I could call Colleen (Rachel’s mom) Deb (Carlye’s) or Gail (Camille’s) since they’re all like surrogates to me anyhow. And I DO have a lot of aunts. I’m lucky, really. If I didn’t have all those people, I’m sure the mom thing would have been a lot worse for me. I’ve realized there’s no real point to any of the things I write. . . So maybe I should stop, this is quite a waste of cyberspace.
I’ll consider it,
ciao chickas and papa citos
Mala xoxo

ps. The good news? I still have my bus buds! Since I wasn’t in any classes with them, I have 0% separation anxiety. I still live down the road from Aja and Joel (and her hot tub) and can look forward to the 2 hours spent after school with Aja, Tess-a-belle, Krista, Rhea, Lainya, Nic, and Laythe.

pss. congrats on becoming a daddy Nic... even if you are 16 :P

Mr.Groundhog = No SHADOW

It’s now officially no longer wintry months… it’s now officially past that 2 year mark. 2 years since my mom died. It feels like it’s been a lot longer than 2 years. It feels like it’s been 10 lifetimes. Since she died I’ve had a couple completely bizarre relationships, 2 completely different schools, and 4 completely different houses in completely unique places each time. I feel guilty thinking it’s been longer than 2 years. I feel guilty for not thinking of her all the time. I feel guilty for not crying at every conceivable moment. I feel guilty for not living each second with her in mind. I wish I could say I do, but I often only remember her if something stirs up a memory inside me. It’s not that I forget her, per se, but rather I forget that she’s dead. No one goes around always thinking about what there mom is doing, or where she is; neither do I. It’s only when I do remember that she exists, that I remember… well, that she truly does not. I feel horrible for moving past it so quickly. I’m sure I’m not over it. Who could ever be over it? But I moved on with life, and I’m glad I did, but I’m sad that is was that easy. In reality, it was not easy. I went through not sleeping for 4 months (went to school, got home, napped, went to dinner, made up an excuse not to eat, went to my room, stayed up until my alarm went off at 6am, repeat.), denying she was even dead, dropped to 70 lbs, got over that; progressed to spending an entire summer crying; went through a stage of being so depressed I couldn’t cry; had a weird year of happy moments and absolute breakdowns; to bring me… here. I’m not sure what I am now. No more breakdowns. I cry very rarely, not sure if that is good or bad. I am fairly happy most of the time. I know that I’ve grown a lot in the past 2 years. Not just from the person I was post-tragedy, but the person I was before all that. I was selfish and way too self serving. My needs came before anyone else’s. I wasn’t a horrible person, and essentially, I’m the same person. I just have my priorities set in different places and I’ve matured enough to know that my needs are not the most important thing. The people around me matter more than I do, because they are the ones that I need to keep me strong… I do not want to lose that. I’m not entirely sure if the “new” me is any relation to my mom kicking the bucket, but I’m sure there is some sort of connection.I wonder if my mom could see me now if she would be proud of me. That is what I think about most often. Would she like who I’ve become? Would she shine with pride over the future I am forging for myself? I never dreamed I could get this far before very recently, but I wonder if she always saw it in me. She’d always say she knew I’d succeed. She said it about my brother, too. That she was positive he’d make her proud. Maybe that’s just a mother thing, but she always had so much faith in us. Right after my mom died, I went for a walk to go Christmas shopping/creating havoc in the wee town of Parkville with a bunch of my guy friends really late. We were just walking down the street when I had my first ever thought of “Is my mom watching me right now? What would she think?” and I got really self conscious. That was, in fact, the first time I’d admitted to myself that she was gone. As quickly as the thought entered my head, I pushed it away and thought “Who cares. It’s my life, and if she saw me, why would she even bat an eyelash? She left me, not the other way around.” and I did that for a few more months until I finally broke down. I still remember that line from the horrible and wonderful sisterhood of the travelling pants movie, but it really describes the feeling perfectly.“I just want to feel good, and happy, and alive… cause if I feel alive, it doesn’t seem like she’s dead.And if I‘m not sad, then it proves I‘m not like her.”Is that why I got so reckless? Is that why I screwed up so many things so royally? Why I hurt people purposely? Just so I could… feel?This isn’t making much sense, so I guess I’ll end it here.Ciao chickas and papa citos,<3Mala.

namoose.

CARLYE CAPSLOCK MUST BE USED AT ALL TIMES ON HOLIDAYS, AND SPECIAL OCCASIONS - CARLYE AND CAITLYN says:
I THINK MY DAD IS COMING TO GET ME SOON
MALA.<3. NO ONE ELSE CAN SPEAK THE WORDS ON YOUR LIPS. (CAPS LOCK DAY!) says:
OOOOH
MALA.<3. NO ONE ELSE CAN SPEAK THE WORDS ON YOUR LIPS. (CAPS LOCK DAY!) says:
HAVE FUN IN NOWHERESVILLE VANCOUVER ISLAND <3
MALA.<3. NO ONE ELSE CAN SPEAK THE WORDS ON YOUR LIPS. (CAPS LOCK DAY!) says:
THATS WHERE I AM
CARLYE CAPSLOCK MUST BE USED AT ALL TIMES ON HOLIDAYS, AND SPECIAL OCCASIONS - CARLYE AND CAITLYN says:
HAHAHHAHAHAHA
MALA.<3. NO ONE ELSE CAN SPEAK THE WORDS ON YOUR LIPS. (CAPS LOCK DAY!) says:
LANTZVILLE... AND YOUBOU
MALA.<3. NO ONE ELSE CAN SPEAK THE WORDS ON YOUR LIPS. (CAPS LOCK DAY!) says:
KINDA LIKE.... NANOOSE
MALA.<3. NO ONE ELSE CAN SPEAK THE WORDS ON YOUR LIPS. (CAPS LOCK DAY!) says:
IT REMINDS ME OF... MOOSE
MALA.<3. NO ONE ELSE CAN SPEAK THE WORDS ON YOUR LIPS. (CAPS LOCK DAY!) says:
NAMOOSE.

Why is it that snow always reminds me of my mom?
My mom hated winter. She'd usually just sleep the entire season away.. or try to.
If you've spent enough time around me you'd know that I have spent the last few weeks boycotting snow, yet as I was walking around during the snowstorm last month in the quad, I felt so at peace. It's so quiet in the snow. The noises of the highway and the kids inside get muffled. I felt like I was living inside a snowglobe, with all the snowflakes whirling around me.
I was writing my testimony last week and I realized when I read it over that I left out alot of things. I feel as if they aren't my stories to tell. Things about my dad, or my mom... I have a feeling that if I don't tell the stories I'm being dishonest; after all, that is sort of the idea of a testimony. The whole truth and nothing but the truth?
I think I don't want speak about it because I haven't gotten comfortable with it yet. I know that it's not about comfort... but...With my mom's death, it's all relative. I can spew out information without any thought, it's just an autonomy thing now. "My mom is dead" "she died 2 years ago from hep c" "the doctors fucked around with her so much that it finally killed her".... well, maybe not the latter...Yet when it comes to the other little things, I just... can't.I'm only able to write about it now because my aunt urged me. She told me I can't pretend it didn't happen.My dad claims that my mom's family is angry because they coudln't accept that she was sick... she hid it from them. And it's true... but they did know. They knew more than he did. At least they can admit that she was unhappy. My dad refuses to accept that my mom was in pain way before the disease got ahold of her. When she started treatment, it just accelerated. She would always either sleep or cry, just like in the winter. She didn't have that sparkle in her eyes, just a blank barren look.
Everyone always has the same comments: your mom was so happy and always smiling; your mom was always so cheery; your mom was sooo cute. Kaitie told me while we were working last week that before she got initiated with Brittany, my mom sat downstairs with them and kept them company while the rest of us were in the meeting. She said that my mom make them feel so welcome that they weren't as scared to meet all these girls 4 years older that they barely knew.I'm not saying that my mom wasn't all of those things. She was tiny and bubbley and kind and had an infectious laugh... and I loved her. I loved to just spend quality time with her singing and dancing while we cleaned the house. It was those other times; the winters, the time before she passed away, those are the times I would like to forget.The times that make me wonder now, why she was so unhappy with us....and why she didn't hold on a little longer.I want to know why she gave up on us.I want to know if we gave up on her first.