Friday, 01/27/06 - 12:20 pm.
I'm having a very strong, jolly Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or what it's commonly called "aerowithdrawal". I keep having flashbacks of Joe Perry walking up the ramp and all that. I even wrote an article about my experience with Aerosmith, and maybe I can get ir published, along with some of the pictures.
Ok, ok, onto other subjects (OMGYAY, AEROSMITH!!!).
I've already started to pack. My little nephew and I are taking the plane back to ES tomorrow at 4 pm. I love it here, I love how quiet and safe it is, how you can go for a walk at 11 pm and how the driving signals are respected. Obviously, I love my family here, and I believe I'll miss my sister in law most of all, probably because I've been seen her the most this time around. And also, my brother, because he's an odd man.
The kids...yeah, I'll miss them. But you see, they're also pretty much among the reasons why I want to leave. Take this morning for example, when my niece, who takes an hour and a half to groom herself when she washes her hair, and she washes her hair everyday. She's so fucking slow, man! And I don't mean mentally, you just see her do all of her stuff in slow motion, even...especially when it's a hurry. So she was REALLY taking her time this morning, and then the school bus came, and she started to fight with her mom, blaming her because she couldn't find the sweater she wanted. She started to slam the door and yell like a baby. I was afraid the bus would leave without her, because right now the car is under repair and so she couldn't get a ride.
I feel so bad for their parents, having to deal with them. You never know what could trigger their ridiculous anger outbursts. They have all the right to be mad in some cases, but the way they express their madness...somebody get them diapers, please. Sometimes I also get a little impatient by the way my brother and my SIL handle their behaviors. They're too passive and let them get away with things (like watching TV for an hour, when they'd said they wouldn't allow them for more than 30 minutes), or they're constantly on their necks, with command after command, until finally one or both of the kids explode...and then it's normal that they're mad, except they don't talk things over and the problem can't be worked out.
Ok, ok, all in all, I'll miss them all, and I kind of hate leaving them...and hey, I'm useful around here sometimes. But this morning when I woke up to my niece slamming the door, I couldn't wait to get home and pretend her stupid cry-baby reactions don't exist. Yeah, she's cool sometimes, though. Same with my nephew, who luckily didn't hasn't had any other crisis.
Oh, hey, there's something else I'd like to talk about.
Joseph is depressed. For all the wrong reasons. I asked him why and he said, a) he misses me, b) he doesn't go out, c) he's broke. I was touched by the missing-me part, of course, and I assured he wouldn't have to worry about that. I get uneasy when you're far away -aaaawww- and the worst part is that girls sense that -WHAT?!-
In a nutshell, for what he didn't tell me, I understand he gets hit on a lot. I asked him half-joking if he'd found my replacement yet and he said nobody could replace me, but if he cheated on me, he'd tell me. Well, that's a relief, huh?!
So, then he says he doesn't go out. Why's that, I asked. Because I could cheat on you. Wow, I'm touched by his honesty. So I guess I'm supposed to be also extremely touched by the HUGE sacrifice he's making, by not going out because if he did, he could cheat on me. I love his willpower, don't you?
As for the money, same old. He doesn't have a proper job, so he's broke, duh. I told him he should expand his horizons, but you know how he gets once I tell him to get out of his comfort zone. A long time ago, I wished for a Peter Pan, but I meant a funny guy who could fly, not a 25 year-old with the mentality of a 13 year-old. Be careful what you wish for, as the saying goes.
He's going to Guatemala for a Magic tournamente this weekend. Broke, and depressed. We tried to make a lighter conversation, but what I said wasn't working, and he said he'd better go before we broke up. Hello, drama queen. No, we weren't fighting. He was awfully sad, and said very few people could cheer him up. I was not one of them.
Which I'm fine with. I've been reading this book about how to live with a person with Borderline Personality Disorder, and although Joseph does not have that, I've found several advices amazingly useful. First, I did not take his sadness personal, and second, all this isn't about me. I told him with irony that how terrible that I was causing him to be sad, because he loved me so much and he couldn't go out so he wouldn't hurt me by being with other women.
I'm letting go of the conversation last night, although I'm anxious about the whole cheating thing. Most of all, I'm horrified at his lack of improvement in life; I bet I've grown more in the past year than he has in five, and I fear one day I'll outgrow him and I'll leave...and then he'll say, "see, I told you, you were too good to me". That's a self-fulfilled prophecy, and a borderline personality trait, too.
I wonder what other women see in him. It's a funny question, because I'm supposed to know the answer. I'm in love with him, but I can't tell why. Perhaps it's because he has the whole bad boy thing going on...but then he should at least be a rock star or something, to make up for the fact that at 25 (26 next month) he has no job, no career, lives with his parents and can't even dye his hair because it'd upset them. Unresolved Oedipus Complex, that's what it's called.
So this guy is totally hitting bottom and somehow dragging me with him while pushing me away. "I can't tell you I love you back right now, I'm too sad", he said. But that was ok, because I've been too high with this post Aerosmith concert hype to even think of him. I just said "I love you" to be nice. I asked him if he'd like to read a 1,600-word article and he said "no". I explained him I'd written it, about the concert, and he just said "ooohhh". Later, he asked if I loved him. Of course I love you, retarded kid, or else I wouldn't be this hurt by your lack of support.
The worst part is having Joe. He's the opposite to Joseph when it comes to personality; a cute, innocent kid, something between Paul and Ringo, a talented musician, and year younger than me so he's always teasing me. Sometimes he dresses a little boring, but he does change his style once in a while, and when he puts on his choir outfit (black pants, white long-sleeves) he looks gorgeous. You know what gets me the most, though? His wit.
I have this strange way of talking sometimes, and Joseph never gets it. Joe does, and he plays along. He comes with hilarious remarks when you least expect it. I told him about the article, I told him I was thinking of sending it to some magazine. He said he'd like to check it out, and then told me it was really good, honest and well-written, and that magazine was too crappy (not those words, he's a goody-two-shoes) for my article. I don't think it's that good, but he helped me choose another source where I could send it, and I simply appreciate the fact that he took the time to support me. I'm jealous (in a good way) of your writing. In turn, I told him, I'm jealous of his musicianship.
You know what my problem is? Each of these boys has something I like. Joseph has the grunge looks, the spontaneity, the loudness, the knife skills, the bravery, the sex drive, the twisted sense of humor, the whole "I'm not afraid to say what I think", entertaining persona. Joe is a little more quiet, with a deep voice I love; he's cute, with an amazing guitar skills and some sort of beatles-que wit, and, above all, he has the sensibility Joseph lacks. It scares me that whenever Joseph leaves me feeling unfulfilled, Joe shows up and makes up for it. Like last night. Joseph went offline so that "we wouldn't break up" (haha, Joseph, haha), but Joe stayed to give my article a chance.
Of course I love Joseph. But it's not my duty to change him, and if we want such different things in life (he doesn't want anything, for that matter, apparently he only wants to die) we can only last much longer without the paths stretching apart. Aren't I poetic?
Well, shit, I need to get my laundry and finish packing. Next time I'll write from home. Have a safe flight, self. Yay, I hate flying.
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