So there has been a slight gap in blogging, oops my bad, but we were very, very busy packing and sorting things out, yadda yadda yadda.

I can’t really remember what happened in that time but I do know this: thank God we bought vacuum pack bags. They are the saviour of us being able to take about a quarter of my wardrobe to Korea. I remember Saturday 19th was “packing day” – I think we spent about 5 hours gathering and packing all of our stuff. What a drain!!! We then had a nice steak dinner (I am craving steaaaaaaaaaaaaak – but we just found out there is a TGI Friday in Ansan hurrah!!) and watched Strictly Come Dancing. I loved it, I voted for Chris to win because I am a sad loser, and he did. Woop woop!! And then we were so tired, we went to bed, a bit nervous as it was our last night in the UK.

Sun 20th – we got up, had sausage sandy, yum, and then basically left for Heathrow at about 12.30. There was quite a bit of snow around but luckily the journey was OK, we had a bit of a detour when part of the M40 was closed, but other than that, we got in to Heathrow at about 3pm, and we needed to check in at 6pm, so we sat around for a while in Costa. Rich’s parents and sister, on the other hand, did not have such a good journey, a very harsh 9 hour journey or something close to that!! And then 7 hours on the way back, ouch.

So we had a nice chat at the airport and said our goodbyes and went through the usual security. Pretty uneventful after that. We went to the departure lounge and then got on the flight. The plane was nice, we had a little TV in the back of each seat so we could watch films, listen to random Korean pop music etc. I was annoyed that they only played Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince and Transformers on the outward journey from Seoul grrrr…

So it was time to take off. There was a little brat of a Korean kid who cried alllllll the way through take-off, not because it was scary or because his ears popped, but because his parents took away his PSP. Git. The flight after that was uncomfortable, boring and horrible. The brat cried 2 more times for about 20 minutes each time while everyone was trying to sleep. And by the end of the 10 hours, we were so tired, Rich nearly puked, but didn’t. We then got off the plane, went through immigration, which was very quiet and strange, got our bags and then met Mr Kim who was picking us up.

We drove through Incheon (where the airport is) and over the giant bridge. I don’t know how many miles it is, but it is massive and goes across an estuary. Traffic in Korea can only be described as absolute insanity. Car drivers tend to go in whichever lane they like irrespective of which direction they have to go, like to run red lights, park wherever they like and they honk their horns a lot too. Insane.

So we made it in one piece, dropped our bags off at the love motel (more on that later) and went to school to meet people. Bear in mind we had probably been awake for 24 hours at this point, with maybe 2 hours of broken sleep. UG!!! We met the director of the school, who is very nice and Jennifer, who is the supervisor of foreign teachers. She is leaving and I am taking over her classes. We then went out for food with Luke, the new supervisor. We had pizza, which was good but we were so tired and jet-lagged that we couldn’t really enjoy it. Luke and Jennifer then took us back to the love motel, where we SLEPT AND SLEPT AND SLEPT. But then woke up in the middle of the night, being unable to sleep. UGGGGG….

Brittany Murphy. 1977-2009.
So young, so so sad. Such untimely death.

This semester is rapidly coming to a close… I’ve had so much fun with everyone I’ve had the luck to meet here.  I still have a full 5 and 1/2 months left in France, but lots of people are going home, or are studying somewhere else the second semester, so we’ve been doing lots of goodbyes.  Nick left last night and I think tonight is the last night for Barbara and the Michaels, although they will be back in January….

Basically… there are just so many memories from this semester. Too many to even list… but I’ll never forget them! I promise.

I really am going to miss everyone so much!

BIZ xxo

My updating this blog in a timely fashion seems to have gone the way of 98 º circa 2000… which is to say it was hot for a little while (with the release of “Give Me Just One Night (Una Noche)”) but everything began to go downhill with the sophomore album, etc.

This will certainly be my last blog entry from Buenos Aires as I am leaving in a little over six hours. In the meantime, I have to finish packing, get myself to the airport and say a proper goodbye to the city where I’ve spent the last four months.

It was surreal coming here and it’s surreal to leave. Just as, back in August, I couldn’t believe that I’d be spending such a long time in a foreign country, I can’t believe now that I’m going to go back to the U.S. and just continue my life like none of this ever happened. I’d like to think that this semester changed me (for the best), but it’s hard to evaluate now when I have one foot in Plaza San Martín and the other in my family room watching “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”.

I’ll do at least one more entry when I’m back in Philly and have more time to reflect on What My Semester Abroad Meant To Me and other capital-letter questions like that. Until then: chau Buenos Aires, nos vemos cuando nos veamos!

This is my first blog post from Japan. It’s only fitting that I should write one while I’m here since this is the country where the legend began. I’ve been thinking about the many blessings that I’ve experienced on this trip so far and I thought of writing about something that Rob reminded me of when I stayed with him in Tokyo last week. I was telling him how grateful I was for his hospitality and he reminisced about something his father told him.

It’s not what you know. It’s who you know that counts.

Over the course of this last week, I have since moved on to Kansai and am now in Kyushu and Rob’s dad’s saying has been reinforced for me. I have not spent a penny on accommodation since I arrived in Japan, which is simply down to so many friends offering to let me stay with them. First Rob, then Megu and Taka (and family) in Osaka and Wakayama respectively. Now I’m at Yudai’s and tomorrow I’m staying with Yusuke in Fukuoka. When I return to Tokyo at the end of the week, I have a choice of who’s place to stay at.

This trip would not have been possible without these people, who I see as truly awesome people and I will surely remember them in my prayers. Having dinner with old friends from over 5 years worth of Uni has been truly memorable and I still have over a week until I fly back to London!

God bless everyone of you guys. You know who you are. It’s going to be difficult to say goodbye to everyone.

Oh Chamber Memoriam

Haunted and freed—memories

Pictures suspended in air

A vibrant and viscid

Shadowy film

Slithers down the walls

Framing images in my mind

Oh Chamber Memoriam

I lock the gateway behind

To restrain myself in these

Hazy impressions

To inhibit myself

From recoiling

Once more

I open the drawers

And hurl the past on all sides

Scattering pages, images and…

Shattered pieces of my heart

Oh Chamber Memoriam

Tears I shed, for the blood

That desiccated upon the skin of my heart

I weep, I scream, as I

Suffocate myself

In the memories

I fall to pieces again and again

Dying more with each moment passing

Oh Chamber Memoriam

I genuflect, breathing hard

Eyes closed and head bowed

Preparing.

My eyes burst open

My head and body rise

Resolute.

I uncover the drawer

That drawer

Left for disposal

Fastened with all my strength

And as it opens

The shadows retreat

The levitating memories fall to pieces

The shattered fractions of my heart

Warm and liquefy

My eyes struggle to see through the hope

The love and kindness

Gentleness and joy

My gaze wavers not

As I see what I’d forgotten

What I gave everything for

Yet had, hidden, all along

I emerge once more

This time different than the times before

My heart is fashioned

And my scars are washed away

I emerge once more,

Myself.

From this,

Oh Chamber Memoriam.

i see the pictures, and i’m not in them. makes my heart sink a little.

lana always called the studio a family. i used to be part of it. now i guess i have my own family, and we’re a pretty close family indeed. despite that, even though i’m gone and enjoying my dance life with artistic edge, part of me longs to be in that old family again. i miss the silly laughs and sometimes wished i was there.

but is that true? i traded them for the medals and trophies and distinctions. i traded them for simplicity, and at the same time i traded them for a challenge. i had no other choice in the end anyway. did i fight hard to change things? no. i was sad and i cried, but i didn’t battle. it was a letting go process, like any other. if it’s true, if i wished i was there, wouldn’t i put up a fight? not just internally, but vocally expressing a need to go back?

maybe it’s just another one of those moments, where i remember the good times and end up sad. when they say “don’t look back”, they mean it. look forward.

do you think i act as if i’m above you?

How to fit 30 pallets of flooring into a Honda Civic:

(Thanks to JC and Carson at Lowe’s for their help!)

A late lunch at the Crab Shack with Kate:

I’ll miss the Crab Shack.

I’ll miss living somewhere warm enough for gators and eating outside in December.

We watched pelicans flapping back and forth over the water and hanging out on the eaves.

I’m going to miss this food (well, my taste buds will; my arteries won’t).

The omnipresent Crab Shack cats begged, but we were onto them–we’d seen them scamming shrimp a few tables down.

After we finished eating, we said hello to the birds…

and stopped by the Cat Shack

and checked out the boats that were starting to line up for tonight’s Boat Parade.

Overall, it was the perfect final Sunday afternoon in Savannah with one of my closest friends.

This weekend saw the first of my goodbyes – my darling friends from school – a trip down to Tunny Wells and memory lane. I am going to miss them heaps; they know me so well, I never feel like I need to explain myself or make excuses for being me. I will especially miss the ease with which I can just pick up the phone to speak with them any time I want – that’s going to be difficult in Africa, though not impossible. And then there is my gorgeous godson – blonde, cheeky and growing up way too fast!

The rest of the weekend has been spent packing (yes, I sound like a broken record) and finding a safestore that isn’t a rip off. Only 5 weeks to go so better make a decision on these things now!

A few weeks ago, I felt as nervous about my lack of Christmas spirit as Charlie Brown.  Italians don’t get excited about Christmas spirit in October the way we Americans do, so I was forcing it.  I was caroling in the shower and wearing red and green a lot, but something just felt off.  And then, by December 1 it was like living in a winter wonderland.  It got a lot colder, they turned on all the cute light displays in the center, and then the Christmas Markets opened!  I went on a little day trip with Aria (our intrepid leader) and Kelsey to this village called Palazzuolo Sul Senio for our first Italian Mercato Natale experience.  We were the only Americans in the village (it was a small enough place for me to comfortably say that I saw every resident and tourist to be seen), which is a truly rare find in Tuscany.  There was great food, a polka band, and lots of cute families.  I thought this was the pinnacle of Christmas cheer until we got back to Florence and I saw all the lights and the German-style Christmas market in Piazza Santa Croce.  Baked goods, hot wine, and crafts galore!  I bought some slippers there the other day, and I’ve been wearing them pretty much ever since.  Embarrassing confession time: I turned down a social engagement because it didn’t sound fun enough to warrant taking off said slippers and putting on real shoes.  I am becoming Liz Lemon, and I think I like it.

Anyway, now I am full of Christmas cheer, even if it is mostly of a hermit variety.  Now I belt Christmas carols all the time, I have an uncontrollable urge to bake, every item seems like a gift potentiality, and I miss my family.

Riding the carousel in Piazza della Repubblica

Florence got a little less fun sometime around 5 am on Saturday morning because all of my dear amici from UConn headed to the airport to go home.  I had a great semester with them, and now I have a strong desire to visit Connecticut, a place that once seemed boring and undesirable.  For a while the semester seemed condemned to loneliness because many of my Vanderbilt peers came here in friend groups already or, in a select few cases, seemed like monstrous bitches.  Then I went along on a CET-sponsored outing for the Festa della Rificolona and met these social saviors.  (A recommendation to future students abroad: go along on program activities! They’re always fun and usually free!) Both individually and collectively, they exhibit that winning mixture of charm, cleverness, and fun that you’re a fool not to try to befriend.  Plus they laughed at my jokes.  I miss them already.

We had a great last night, though: the single most delicious, decadent, and “Italian-feeling” (we were there for hourrrs) dinner I’ve had all semester, riding the fabled carousel in Piazza della Repubblica, gelato, parlor games, sparklers (!), and nearly-teary goodbye hugs in the street.

Their departure and the sudden influx of schoolwork for final exams has suddenly made my impending obligation to leave this perfect place feel frighteningly real.  But I’ll save that emotional land mine for a different entry.

Evening, so it’s 2:00 am in England though im still buzzed and thought i’d do a quick blog.

Oh and before i begin, im obsessed with a small indie band’s song “Until You Won Me Over” by Trent Dabbs – brilliant check it out!

So i have just got back from a loving meal with 3 friends and we went to Nandos and it really was lovely. What was really nice was me and the designated driver for the night sat outside my out for 40 minutes just talking which was lovely. you know something she said which really stuck me?

“you’re the selfless person i know” that just broke my heart, if there’s one thing i want to be remember for, it’s that.

in other news, the reality that i’m leaving in…6 months is hitting home ish. i’ve had years to think about this and now it seems like it’s finally hitting me.  i cant believe im actually going to leave england, i’ve grown up here and now my life is going to change when i leave to literally the other side of the world.

something one of my friends said about this touched me “i cant even think about saying goodbye to you. i thought about it the other day and almost started crying” seriously! i cant express how much this means to me, especially from such a close friend.

words from friends make my life. i hope they know it.

Bekah

Good-bye glad.

Good-bye times we had.

Good-bye jokes and good-bye smokes.

Good-bye sings and weekends like kings.

Good-bye smirks and crazy quirks.

Good-bye Dad.

Good-bye sad.

Good-bye times we had.

Until when…

I see you again.

OK, the reality of leaving is starting to sink in. I have to say that apart from a few people, I don’t feel particularly loved in Savannah (I try not to be bitter about this, but I am), but those few people are very difficult to leave. I had to say goodbye to two of them today, and I’m teary now. If I write about them, I’ll be maudlin, so instead I’m going to regale you with photos of the S.A.V. that I took downtown yesterday.

We love our beer here in the South. And our hand-written signs.

We try to be classy. Those darn S’s and Y’s just won’t stay put!

I love the alleys. Let’s not explore why.

We also love our Johnny Mercer. The Afghan Whigs do a gorgeous cover of “Moon River” that, to me, is a wistful hint of indefinable absence.

OK, I’m being maudlin. Back to the photos.

We do have fall, kind of. It’s just very brief and very late.

The Marshall House on Broughton Street is festooned for the holidays.

Liveoaks and holiday cheer…not as incongruous as one might think.

Yesterday’s pre-tornado-warning sky.

St John the Divine spire against that stormy sky

Christ Church, where I sometimes attend Compline services…the oldest Episcopal church in Georgia

Broughton Street holiday cheer

So I left one place and found myself here. I disappeared without disappearing. I am not convinced whether it wouldn’t have been a foolish decision, foolish and childish. Yes, I have not been feeling well, there are many reasons for it. I’ll indulge and laconically expand on one.

I’ve been feeling as if I have been fading away. I have been drowning.  It’s one of those states in which you don’t see hope, light, meaning and the only thing which is left is…survival instinct.  May it won’t leave me or I’ll die.  May I go to sleep and awake with Spring coming.

I could laugh at myself now, I really could. I’ve never been one of those attention whoring people or the kind that creates countless accounts and plays this ghost game. Why did I act like one then?

When we let emotions take control over ourselves we act like fools and pay for our past sins probably too.  I know I’ve sinned a lot.  And the reason why I’ve been feeling the way I do is just what it is…Karma. You laugh? Everything what we do to people, comes back to us. I’ve felt too much.  Attachment is not for me,  it is not for me.

My Farewell…

Upon my first grand disappearance;  it cost me a lot, it cost my pride a lot. And I can’t go back. I know it sounds melodramatic. Oh well… One thing I hate is drama and everything that comes with it. Anyway,  I received words of comfort and questions from people I would have not expected such concern about my well-being.  And from one person who claimed much, I’ve received…hmmm.  My scene 1 of Act 1 may have been childish but it taught me something about this person. But, no, I don’t hold anything against this soul; it’s young, confused, and ever-distracted with new colours and Emilie Autumn muffins. Young. I should have not allowed myself this romantic foolishness. I had known how it would have ended, had I not?

And so it is, to the whole plethora of reasons that has been sitting heavily on my chest like the Night Monster on the woman’s chest from Fuseli’s painting, this soul’s response was the final chapter – falling into the well.  I have always known that love does not live in spoken words. But yes, what love? I am glad I have not made a mistake of believing in the spoken words of a really young man, or trust them.  if I had done so,  I would have not survived it.

I’ve seen him in the worst days – divided into three, this young soul,  I’ve seen the cuts on his hands, but I decided not to speak about it.  I see him changed now, changed for better.  I hope I helped him a little, but maybe he found the strength within himself, it would have been even better! He’s very dear to me, now as a friend and a younger brother.  May he finds love, peace and happiness. This is my Farewell to Rochester.

So people, the day is almost upon us. Inshallah, my flight to Tokyo is on Monday and I’ll be in Japan until xmas eve. Many people to see and many places to visit, not forgetting my beloved Matsudo. It will be extremely natsukashii to see the place I called home during my first visit back in 2004. I’ve been looking at the weather reports for Tokyo over the last few days, as you do in the build-up to a trip abroad, and it’s going to be a little warmer than here so I guess that’s another good thing to look forward to.

Anyway, I will try and post updates if I find the time to but I do promise to take plenty of piccies. Aah and of course I will be tweeting. Some of the highlights this time around will be a Japanese mosque-crawl and meeting up with some of the vloggers I subscribe to on youtube. Wish me luck and happy non-denominational generic winter season’s greetings to all (Eid and Chrismukkah included)!

I know I’m starting this blog off contrary to its URL address but I promise I’ll work on it. In the meantime, I’m just going with the flow which is swirling somewhere in the toilet. I’m sure you remember your first real friend at your first real job. If you don’t, there’s something wrong with you. Think back to the first coworker you snuck off with to an extended ‘working’ lunch. Or that local etched in the muscle memory of your fingers for when you have serious work emergencies like “Facebook isn’t working” and “Did you see _____? Her dress is SO SHORT today.”

Today is my first friend’s (we’ll call her The Chef since she loves to cook and well, I love to eat her food) last day. There have been a few departures this year but so far, no one that I was particularly close with. A lot of people will miss The Chef but I’ll miss her the most. I haven’t really had to go through the motions of saying farewell recently and I have to say, I suck at it. I’m in a daze and there’s no real reason I should be. She was very vocal about her plans and we’ve talked about it almost every day for the past 3 months. This was not a surprise and yet here I am, running on auto-pilot.

I couldn’t even bring myself to say the word ‘goodbye’ when she left earlier. There’s something about that word that’s too final. The thought of going to her cube and not seeing her tiny rock garden atop her filing cabinet or going online and seeing her ‘presence unknown’ status is final enough. My feelings aside, I know that this is what’s best for her and her family. So that’s what I’m going to focus on. I’m sure it’s not easy to walk away from a job in this economy and it took a lot of courage for her to do that. I’m going to be the friend I know she needs and put my emotions aside. And I’ll remember this experience because even though she’s the first, she definitely won’t be the last.

**

I am now strong, because at one time I had to be.

I held her hand as she was dying.  Now death can’t strike fear in me.

**

I am capable of loving, because I’ve lost what I had.

I have said goodbye, shed tears, been sad.

**

I can experience pleasure, because I’ve known pain.

I fought my demons, came out ahead – and sane.

**

I can turn my cheek, because I’ve been pushed around.

With each of life’s blows – myself is what I found.

**

I have been tested by Life and have seen the face of Death.

I am now who I need to be in life, with each single breath.

**

]]> http://perkyperps.wordpress.com/2009/11/28/apprendre-le-francais-partie-cinq-%e2%80%93-les-salutations/ Sat, 28 Nov 2009 15:01:13 +0000 perkyperps http://perkyperps.wordpress.com/2009/11/28/apprendre-le-francais-partie-cinq-%e2%80%93-les-salutations/

Bonjour either means good morning, hello, or good afternoon.

Bonsoir is used when you greet someone in the evening, starting around 6PM.

Salut is when you greet informally at any time of the day.

You can start exchanging pleasantries by asking the person…
in a formal manner, Comment allez-vous? (How are you?);
in an informal manner, Ça va? (literal meaning, Is it going?) or Comment ça va? (Is it going well?) or Ça va bien? (How’s it going?).

You can reply by saying…
in a formal manner, Je vais bien (I’m fine) or Bien, merci (Fine, thanks) or Bien, et vous? (Fine, and you?)
in an informal manner, Ça va (Fine) or Ça va bien (I’m doing well) or Pas mal (Not bad) or Bien, et toi? (Fine, and you?) or Je vais bien (I’m fine)

When it’s time to say goodbye, Au revoir (formal) or Salut (informal) are used. There are also different ways, depending on what you mean. We have:

À bientôt or À tout à l’heure (See you soon)
À plus or À plus tard (See you later)
À demain (See you tomorrow)
À la prochaine (Until next time)

Bonne journée (Have a nice day)
Bon après-midi (Have a nice afternoon)
Bonne soirée (Have a nice evening)
Bonne nuit (Good night)

Adieu (Farewell)

In greeting someone with respect, you may use monsieur, mademoiselle, or madame together with the person’s name.

For more French greetings, as well as tips on how to use them properly, click here.

You know this kind of person. You met once, maybe as a child, maybe as an adult, maybe quite recently. It was instant kinship the moment you shook hands, looked at each other and smiled. Kindred spirits found without any effort at all it seems. You’re instant facebook and myspace friends, on each other’s twitter feeds, have inside jokes within two days of knowing each other, sometimes even one.

Things go absolutely swimmingly, you spend many nights up talking, or then over cups of steaming tea in the grey afternoons, you grow close, share with them your insecurities about your physical appearance. Maybe go shopping, gossip about people you know, people you don’t know. Share your views of the world with each other, laugh until you feel like you want to die from the cheek cramps.

You go further with your new friend, you call them when you feel your heart is breaking, you cry over the phone, they come and comfort you, even if it is in the middle of the night. This goes on for a long time, and you grow extremely close, you treat them like your brother or sister. Think of nice gifts for them, smile when you remember something funny you shared, and you’d most likely have things you’ve told them that you’d never, ever have imagined telling anyone in your life. Shared the parts of you that one may call the “darkest and twistiest”.

And one day that person is gone. Physically at least. You bid teary goodbyes, cry at night at the possibility that you’ll never meet that person again. Because you feel lost that your anchor, your pillar, your go to person is suddenly gone from your life. But the both of you vow you’d keep in touch.

And then all of this comes crumbling down. Maybe this seems naive. But with almost every person I have vowed to keep in touch with, I have, and they with me. I feel glad, most of the time that chance had so kindly brought these wonderful, beautiful people into my life and they remain my anchors, my pillars, my people who lift me out of sorrows when I have them even from afar.

But then sometimes in life an invisible man or woman comes along. Every single piece of the puzzle seems to fit, but then there is one that is missing: their caring.

Some days I wonder if it just because of my naivete that I fail to upkeep my friendships with these people once they are gone. Sometimes I cry because I literally give these people a whole piece of my heart and they seem to throw it away. Sometimes I wonder if they even cared at all, if all of the previous seeming to care was an act so that they could get something in exchange for their companionship.

Until one day I decided I wouldn’t tolerate the “let’s not burn bridges” bullshit any longer. I couldn’t because anyone that I do consider a friend is someone I expect some kind of reciprocation from. At least some kind of acknowledgement, some kind of contact, a “how are you” perhaps, after a reasonable amount of time. So after being extremely suspicious of a certain friends that I did care for and who disappeared on me, I turned on them and asked quite frankly, if they still bother about me as a friend, and whether I should care or not about them any longer.

Perhaps it was because it was such a nasty question to ask of someone, that person declared that it hurt them that I should ask and that they cared, far too much, for me to be out of their lives.

But here I am again, about a half year into this “long distance friendship” as one might call it. While I have made it work with so many others, this person fails to contact me. Fails to be curious about how I might be doing in life, fails to ask even if I may ask them. With no effort whatsoever on their part to care, I no longer have doubts anymore whether I am in their thoughts, doubts or prayers.

I should say goodbye, for my own sake. But it hurts, cutting that invisible heartstring that ties me to that person. All that history, all that effort, all the emotion and love you put into it seems almost wasted, and that is only the least heartbreaking thing about the whole affair. Which is why I would never wish invisible friends on other people who seem to give their love away as freely and foolishly as I do.

This is going to hurt a lot friend and I will mourn the end of our probably all-but-dead friendship for a week, maybe two. All I can really hope is that one day you see that I loved and cared for you, even more than you had probably imagined and looked at why you lied to me the way you did.

i don’t even know where to begin.

i haven’t following jon & kate + 8 since the beginning, but it’s been about two or three years since i started watching. it’s been awhile. quite honestly, i’m the kind of person that gets attached to reality tv; i know that sounds weird but it’s true. this show was no exception.

i am so unbelievably disheartened by what’s transpired over the past year with this family, with this show. i can honestly say i knew that it would end about this time, when the sextuplets were starting school, because it would be too weird for them to be on tv and trying to live normal lives at the same time.

never would i have imagined, however, how so sadly it would spiral out of control. it really turned into a huge tabloid train wreck, and the saddest story ever told on tv. eight kids caught in the crossfire of their parents at war with each other, being chased down by strangers with huge cameras trying to make a buck off of their innocent lives.

watching the series finale was the strangest feeling i ever had. it didn’t even feel like the same show. i know it was asking for too much, but i was secretly hoping that jon and kate would at least be able to sit in the same room together one last time. obviously, the mere decision to end the show wasn’t even agreed upon, so why would they even consider being in the same room together. that opening shot, the trespassing notice on their front gate, made me so angry and sad, so obviously the product of selfishness and greed. it makes sense that the show couldn’t last forever, but he couldn’t even let them bow out gracefully.

i’m not particularly team kate, but i for sure will never, EVER be team jon. watching him speak made me want to punch him in the face; now i regret not paying the $20 cover fee to get into that party he had in vegas, just so i could get close enough to punch him in the face. the way that he dealt with his two oldest daughters made me wonder if he’s really on a lower scale of maturity than they were. yeah, they weren’t being particularly polite, but if you notice the looks on everyone else’s faces, do you really think they felt like they were having fun? they’re going through some shitty times because of him, and he expect them to just sit and take it? no. kids are fucking brutally honest, and if they don’t like something they act the way they wanna act. it’s his responsibility as a parent to make sure that they have an outlet to properly express their feelings; if he did, he wouldn’t have to deal with “attitude.”

and honestly, it’s no wonder that he was never the more vocal one in interviews. listening to him speak made me feel like i was losing brain cells. get the hell off of your drugs and work on your life, you dumbass.

but i digress.

what else is there to say? it’s over. it was never meant to last forever, but it was never supposed to go out like this.

it really feels like saying goodbye to old friends. at least, it hurts the same.

ps – end montage? yeah. i cried. damn it.

Going Home

Sam threw his keys on the coffee table, took off his sneakers, laid back and rested his head on the arm of the couch, crossed his legs, and stared at the ceiling.  His eyes eventually closed.

When the sun shone through the window, he awoke and wiped the wet from his forehead and cheeks.  He opened his eyes that were still swollen, still full of sleep.  He had to leave soon.  Sam put on jeans and a tee shirt, not sure if they were clean or dirty, not aware enough to care.  He retrieved a baby blue silk dress from the closet and placed it gently into a white garment bag.  His wife loved silk.

Sam opened the door to his dented blue Ford pickup. He slid into the driver’s seat, set the garment bag next to him and stared at the cracks in the windshield.  He noticed how they had crawled across the glass, stretching their legs.  His breath warmed the cab.  He backed his pickup out of the driveway.

Sam parked in front of a building.  Its once white siding now soiled from the winter.  Sam looked to his right. “Castle Hill Funeral Home: Caring for the Community” stared back at him, its scrolling blue letters irritated him.  It needed to be painted.  He stepped out of the pickup and walked up to the white double doors, the garment bag in his hands.

Later, Sam came home. He threw his keys on the coffee table, took off his sneakers, laid back and rested his head on the arm of the couch, crossed his legs, and stared at the ceiling.  An empty, white garment bag lay on the floor.  He looked down at his left hand.  A shiny gold band glared back at him.  He thought about how he needed to get his windshield fixed.  Maybe he would even fix the dents on his pickup and have it painted red.  Yes, he thought that was what he would do.  His eyes eventually closed.