kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss Where to begin? How to say it all without sounding like I�m being flippant and uncaring, while at the same time not seeming like I�m two steps away from the looney bin. As I type this I hear my father�s voice whisper in my ear �Got to find a way to deal with the stress kid�. Yeah right. It�s almost 11am and I�m fighting to stay awake. Why so tired? Well, good question. Last night C. and I celebrated our six-month anniversary (with Tapas, red wine and two dozen roses). We got home and I immediately went downstairs to read my book. Exhausted. In bed by 10pm. Ah yes Nicks, you ask when exactly you become an ol�ball and chain. Well, I think it�s about the time that you crawl to bed at 10pm on the eve of your anniversary. Ya think? Now that C. and I are cohabitating in the most blissful turn of events, I can�t be bothered to do all those �girlfriend� things I used to do, like watch Sports Center when I have no interest whatsoever (unless it�s basketball of course). What�s that you say?!! The Italian and Ms. Kiwi living together in unwedded bliss? Yes, it�s true. Only one of the more monumental turns of events this month. What else? Well let�s see. There was the event that came before the unplanned move. As Patrick puts it, I moved out of �the angryfemme house�. That being my former residence with D. & D. It was a rather unpretty exit. Proceeded by a huge brawl which had been a brewin� for months. The brawl after which I was unceremoniously asked to vacate the premises. What happened? Long story. May try to delve in and pick it apart when more time has passed. Right now I�m just glad that she (D. #1) is out of my life. It was a rather ugly little scuffle. I still feel like I�m running the gauntlet when I walk by my old digs in order to get to the gym. Inevitably the day will come when I will run into the two D�s (since we live in the same neighborhood). I only hope I will be able to get through relatively unscathed. So, this little ugliness led to C. asking me to move in, and he, myself and his friend T. ended up hauling all of my belongings out of my old casa on the eve of July 31st in less than two hours while the two D�s were at the Madonna concert. They had �given� me thirty days out of the goodness of their black, bitter, little hearts. I didn�t take them. T. walked in, looked at his watch and like �The Wolf� in Pulp Fiction asked �What are we looking at for time here?�. Several SUV trips later, the entire contents of my old life were moved 6 blocks down and into C.�s former bachelor pad. Exhausted and dirty we all went to the diner for dinner and toasted the unexpected. I was a little nervous. This was not a planned thing. But it has turned into the best thing that could have happened in our relationship. We are so happy. We are ridiculously happy. We are dance around the living room naked listening to Neil Diamond happy. I am finally able to breathe. I don�t fret, I don�t feel like I�m losing my �self�, I just feel relaxed. I just feel safe. We don�t feel pressured anymore. We do our own things. But at the end of the day, we crawl into bed together and cuddle the hell out of one another. Sighhhhhhhhh. Okay, whammy number two. This one isn�t so happy. And don�t ask me how I feel about it. Because I honestly don�t know. My mother called a few days after the exodus from old apartment. Tears. Okay, know this is big. Because Mom only cries when someone has died (except for little PMSey type sadness bouts but that�s different, well I guess she doesn�t really PMS anymore but whatever � we talk every day almost and I knew these tears were scary ones). Her boyfriend of (what is it 18? Years), the father of my brother, basically my step-father, if you�re searching for a label that will put it into perspective � he has liver cancer. Went to the hospital for what they thought was gall stones or something and finds this out. How could this happen? Well � I don�t know. I really don�t. And the thing is, I sit here and think �Well, he can�t really be dying can he?�, but I guess the truth is, that yes, he probably is. And my mom says things like �We don�t know what kind of time frame we�re looking at�. And silly me, I think � well, this is 2001. People don�t just get diagnosed and then � die. But I guess they do. Maybe. I don�t know. So, I�ve been worrying about my mom, and my brother and about J. too but at the same time feeling that I don�t really have the right to be sad about this. Because for years J. and I didn�t get along. And I never called him �Dad� or anything like that. And although we have gotten closer, I don�t think he�s ever told me he loves me (or vice-versa). I don�t know. What I do know is that I have to go home to Vermont soon and see what�s happening there. And I kind of don�t want to. But I know I have to. And I know my Mom, who is pretty much the most important thing in my life, must really need me right now. And then there�s my brother, who may lose his Dad while he�s still in highschool. And then there�s me, not knowing what the feck to say about it all. So, I�m not sleeping so well. And I get spooked when I go upstairs to go to the bathroom at night because we just saw �The Others� and I see creepy little girls who look like old women with white eyeballs in wedding veils everywhere. And I�m still working on the damn book proposal. Oh, and C. and I are going to Italy at the end of September. Positano. Amalfi Coast. Eleven days. Bliss. Nuff said. La di da. La di da. 11:56 a.m. - 2001-08-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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