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| Sometimes I wonder why people even bother to celebrate Valentine's Day when they can do lovely things for their special someone any other day of the year and it'd be even more special.
I guess blame the card companies.
Note: I don't completely hate Valentine's Day. I just think it's kind of unnecessary.
G'day everyone.
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| There's nothing quite like figuring out who you are. It's such an amazing experience.
G'day everyone.
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| So, it's been awhile.
What's happened since September? I broke up with Drew and worked a lot. That's about it. I helped Keesha clean up her house in Virginia some so that she can possibly sell it. And my laptop is broken.
Right now, I'm wasting about thirty minutes worth of time before I go over to Keesha's so we can get ready to go back to work tonight for the Christmas party. I'm nineteen years old and yet I still have trouble saying no to people, so I'm dressing up like a skank for this stupid party and getting free food out of it. Yay.
I found out the other day that it's quite an amazing feeling to possibly get old friends back. Quite amazing, indeed.
G'day everyone.
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| I found out something interesting about myself today.
While having a discussion about the Sarah Connor depicted on the television show Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, I realized that I had no opinion yet. The discussion was on how some people felt that she was humorless and shouldn't care to save humanity since it was obvious that she wasn't enjoying any moments in her life. When I tried to give my view on it, I realized that I hadn't figured out my view yet. I don't agree with the people that call her humorless, I know that I disagree with the ones that say that she is horrible at trying to save humanity, etc. But I don't have an opinion of my own.
And rather than admit that, I'd rather come across as callous or rude and say that I don't want to give my opinion. I guess I'd rather appear gruff than not having a mind or thoughts of my own.
Weird.
G'day everyone.
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| Earlier this week was the five year anniversary of my Pop Mac's death. I called my grandmother on the phone and talked to her some, just to check on her, but we didn't talk about him too much. I wanted to, but I'm horrible when it comes to talking about important stuff like that. My throat closes up and I just automatically start crying. I wrote something in hopes that I could fix it up a bit and send it to her in an e-mail so that she would know how I really felt about the whole thing, but I still haven't sent it. I'm not even sure if I will. It might just open up old wounds in her.
It went something like this:
My Papa died when I was six. With each day, the memories of him are getting fewer and fewer. I can barely remember the sound of his voice anymore. I remember that I always thought that he had a distinct smell about him, but now I can't remember the smell or even how I used to describe it. I have a couple of stories about him that I remember from firsthand experience and a couple of stories that I got from what other people told me. But I know that eventually even those may become just words. That eventually I might forget it all.
And I'm so scared that that is already happening with Pop Mac.
I spent too much of my childhood and teenage years too shy or scared of adults to really spend time with Pop Mac and Granny.
I remember as a kid always wanting to ride out to the country to visit even though I almost always felt car sick from the fifteen minute drive. I was always so excited to see the cows across the street or the horses next door.
I remember Pop Mac's mother Lillian living there until she died. One time, I was out riding with Dad and felt car sick. We stopped by the house but Lillian didn't recognize us from the window so she didn't come to the door. After I felt better, we just left. Pop and Granny were out at the time.
Pop had one of those old computers that everyone seemed to have in the 1990s. He played card games on it all the time and downloaded music before the whole Napster thing happened. I would always be delighted when I got to play Old Maid on the computer. I loved that game.
Pop always reminded me of the Cowardly Lion character from The Wizard of Oz. Not his personality, just his looks. I didn't realize that some people might take that as a bad thing to say until years later.
Pop had this ukelele that he would play from time to time. Once I learned how to play guitar, I would try to play some stuff on the ukelele. Then he would take it and actually play something that was meant for the instrument.
I vaguely remember seeing Pop Mac sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper.
He had this huge satellite dish in the backyard, back before I had ever heard of anyone having one. I would see the people living out in the country with the large dishes but that was it. Every one that I knew that lived in town had cable. I was so fascinated by it. I would wave my hand around it, just to see what would happen, if I would mess up whatever show was on television.
For a little while, once a week, I would go to this local restaurant called Village Station with Pop Mac and Granny. They had some special on beef tips and we would go. I think it was Monday nights.
I always heard about how many books a week Pop Mac would read. I did always see a lot of books laying around. And I saw him reading a lot.
Once, when I was young, I was out eating with Pop Mac and Granny and he made me cry. I had been swinging my legs while sitting at the table and had been hitting his legs. I had no idea though. When he pointed it out, probably jokingly, I just started crying. I always had that sort of reaction to that sort of thing.
Unlike my Papa, I can still hear Pop Mac's voice if I concentrate.
I spent so much of my childhood trying to act the way that I thought adults wanted me to, trying to please everyone, that now I feel like I wasted all of the time with him that I was given. Of course, I know that I was lucky to have met him and have him in my life. Now that he's gone, though, I feel like I should have done so much more. I think that's how a lot of people feel upon the loss of a loved one. Or at least that's how I've felt every time it's happened to me so far.
I can feel him sometimes. It's as if he's near me. Watching over me, I guess. And I think, "Hey Pop Mac. How are things now? I wrote a song the other day that I bet you would like." If I'm out in public, I just smile.
There have been a couple of times where I've closed at work. By the time I got out of work, around 2 in the morning, I've felt a presence as soon as I stepped outside to go to my car. I felt completely safe, like someone was there with me. I've just always assumed it was him.
I've got pictures of him in pictures frames in my room. The picture that I like the most, of him in a hammock smiling is on my nightstand along with the picture of Papa and me (the last picture of him smiling).
I'm so scared of losing my memories of him but as long as those memories are here, I'm clinging onto them. That makes me feel better.
I also feel like as I learn more about myself and figure myself out I grow closer to him. It doesn't really make sense to me since he's technically gone but I still feel it in my heart. With each passing day that I grow into the woman that I'm going to be, I feel closer and closer to him. And I have to wonder if it's just me or if he feels the same way up in Heaven?
G'day everyone.
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