Monday, 12/06/04 - 10:13 pm.
This afternoon was painfully slow, it literally crept. I have a final tomorrow, but I just can't concentrate anymore. Not exactly because I'm tired, the subject just doesn't move me.
I think my muscles are petrifying, and I just want everything (Joseph, finals) to be over, so I can pack my bags and get on the fucking plane, even if flying is the one thing that makes me panic. Houston, Houston, Houston. Do you know I'll be staying at a hotel? Now you do.
Today I finished the christmas cards I'll be sending before I leave. There are only three or four people that I know will apreciate them. The others are on the list of "people who'll receive a christmas card from me but will never let me know they did" (like D., two years ago). I'm not really sure why I bother, I keep doing it year after year. Maybe I still hope they'll care.
I feel a little abandoned. That's how I've felt all afternoon. I wrote an e-mail to Joe, because two nights ago, when we talked for four hours, he said he'd reply to every e-mail I sent to him. Ok, maybe he didn't get it. Ok, maybe he doesn't have time (after all, he's in finals, too).
It's not just about him. I've sent e-mails to several people, and not one has replied. I was hoping Norm would reply to the invitation I sent him, to attend the presentation of my book this thursday. I did get an e-mail from him today, but it was directed to all his contacts to inform about his new e-mail (which I already have, that's where I sent him the invitation to).
And well, everybody. The ones that have always bugged me. Veronica didn't care. Carmen sure as hell didn't give a fuck (as I could tell from her reaction, when I saw her on saturday).
I guess one day, in a book I'll write, there'll be a line that'll read they abandoned me, the one time I was counting on them. And I'll be talking about them.
At least I've heard nice comments from other people, who are actually much more important than all of them.
My brothers have said it's wonderful, and one even said it was "brilliant". Last night I got a heartfelt e-mail from my brother Alan (in El Paso...I'll meet him in two weeks in Houston). He said his soup had never tasted so good, because he had it while reading my book, and he almost choked while laughing at some of the things I've written.
He said he'd always felt guilty, because he thought they (siblings) overprotected me. Those were times in which children were stolen, and so we ordered to keep the doors locked, so you wouldn't go past the porch; and years later we kept you from being friends with the "normal" kids next door because they'd stolen your money (but we got it back, who did they think they were? (that I didn't remember).
But now, he continued, he's glad those things happened, because I didn't turn out like the "normal" kids, that look like drugaddicts and dress with clothes that are half their size.
So not only did you give me a delicious soup and a rainy, cold night full of fun and pride, but you also freed me from the guilt I always carried around.
That e-mail took me by surprise, because I never thought they'd have realized they were overprotecting me. I didn't myself, until a few years ago, when I had to face the world. I didn't know they did it because children were kidnapped (although it makes sense, it was the civil war). I don't know...at times I thought they went overboard with this protecting me while I was growing up, but if that's the price to keep me from being normal, I guess I can take it. The consequences of overprotection, I believe, could be cured with a small brain surgery, right?
I really apreciated all the things he said. I never knew all those things were on his mind.
Well, what do you know? I'm in a better mood than when I started this entry. Still mad at some people (who'll never know I'm mad at), but I can't deny there are things, people, that surpass them.
Remember what I said one day in senior high, when there was a meeting and everybody was late and I was the only one on time? Of course you don't remember, but I do, and I said this (*cough* to myself):
Fuck you. Fuck all of you. I'm going home.
And I went home indeed.