hmm. notification on my main from last october, "congratulations, your blog turned 16 today." i used to be so full of personality and there was a record of that here on this specific internet.
in the last six months, i got married, and then continued to do nothing. my mom is coming out of cancer— i keep forgetting to call her and ask if we can say she's in remission or not. all i know is she has target therapy until february and that she cannot drink alcohol until then, not that she drinks alcohol when she's not sick either. the little things that come together to make up life are insane to me. i've done three trips within the last six months where i thought it was going to be the last time seeing my grandfather on my mother's side. i told this to my uncle on my father's side the other day, and he laughed.
i am slowly becoming a husk of a human being who has nothing to look forward to and so i have logically concluded that the next step is child rearing. that seems sacrilege to type here.
in the movie is this thing on?, which i watched by myself in theaters two days ago after i pulled a muscle in my back and then spent three days justifying sitting at home or in a darkened movie theater with surprisingly well-heated recliner seats that turned off by itself every 30 minutes, will arnett plays a guy named Alex in his 40s going through a divorce and co-parenting his two young 10-year old boys. i thought the movie was going to be about Alex's foray into standup comedy, which is shown to be a form of therapy for him, but it was really about divorce and marriage, and i found it more poignant than i thought it was going to be. anyway, as Alex starts to take standup more seriously, someone tells him he needs to start writing more, and he starts earnestly sketching out ideas for jokes on loose leaf paper, which he keeps in a bright yellow pocket paper folder. in one scene, as he picks his two kids up from school in his minivan, they ask him if he is sad. Alex rejects this notion, but then one of the two kids pulls that yellow folder out of his backpack, and tells Alex that they found it on his bedside table (they sleep in his bed when they stay at his apartment). they want to know what the writings mean. Alex, who throughout the movie is portrayed as a good father, freaks out when he sees they have his folder, and he snatches it back from them. this moment, quite frankly, hit me like a truck. to be able to share the most vulnerable part of yourself to a room full of strangers at a standup comedy bar, that's one thing, but to have your blood and kin and the two people you have the most unquestionable pure love for reading your deepest secrets seemed so unbearable to me. the kids have read the jokes that he has made about the circumstances of his divorce, which of course means he has inadvertently written about his ex-wife and kids. one of the kids starts to cry because he feels confused and overwhelmed by the things he's read in his dad's folder, and Alex is immediately apologetic and goes to the backseat to hold and comfort his child.
re-reading this makes me cry: "I don't know what I'm doing, but you can ask me anything and I'll tell you the truth, okay?"
i often think that if i am lucky enough to have the chance to be a mother that i'd be a terrible one, and that doesn't do enough to stop me from wanting to be a mother. i think i am too emotionally wrapped up in my own shit. i walk around with a sense of betrayal that in life there is no such thing as a "supposed to be," that there is no real sense of justice and absolute truth in the world.
i signed up for a video game writing class. it's only 3-weeks long and it's done entirely online. i write (almost) everyday by hand but i don't write anything productive, and isn't that what life is about, being productive? especially now that i am not a functioning member of society?
i never know how to finish these things!
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