Wednesday, 08.01.2012 - 10:40 pm.
When a lot of time goes by between entries, I don't really know how to begin. My first impulse is, "hey, sorry for not writing in so long". Yeah, sorry about that.
The situation with my mom is pretty much the same. She went to the hospital for her chemo today. Wait, I should say, it's pretty much the same for me, being far away and not being there the whole time and overseeing every detail: when I speak to my family, she and everyone else is hanging on, tired but hoping and praying for the best. I mailed a care package to my family and it arrived today, hopefully it'll help to keep up the good spirits.
I was going to write last week to tell an embarrassing meltdown I had. Andrew couldn't sleep so he had his laptop in bed and the lamp on his nightstand was on. I can fall asleep under those circumstances but then they also woke me up. I woke up, he was still awake and I couldn't go back to sleep. I asked him, err, myself, how can you be so inconsiderate? He noticed I was having trouble falling back asleep and turned off the light. He went to sleep shortly after but I was raging. I watched TV for an hour at 3 am, then I went to the other room because he was snoring so loud and I was pissed because he hadn't woken up and noticed I was gone. I know, LOL.
And I didn't fucking sleep. At all. I cried and bawled in the guest room, where we keep a bed (the one I'd sleep in during the chaste, brief times when Andrew and I were roommates). I cried out loud at some point and I was freezing, with so few blankets for a winter night. By 5 or 6 am I was pissed only because I couldn't sleep. And who sleeps when is pissed? I returned to our bed at 7 am and only then he woke up and I told him I'd spent the night in the other room.
Now, I know, I know. I could have saved ALL that trouble and pointless emotional breakdown if I had told him, can you please turn off the light? He would have, gladly. And worst case escenario, he would have gone to the other room...which I didn't want, because I was afraid he'd think I was kicking him out. But frankly, it was 1 am and he's a reasonable man: sure, you want to sleep, I'll go be awake in a room that is not for sleeping.
The next morning I told him what had happened and that I should have just talked to him, and that ultimately I was glad he didn't wake up in the middle of the night to look for me. I really lost control of my thoughts, perhaps because I was still half asleep when I started to think crap. Still, he was sorry he cause me such discomfort. He did it again a few days later, though, watching videos in bed next to me with the light on, but this time I told him it bothered me. Actually, I just said yes when he asked me, because he was also more receptive to my rolling over the bed. I still slept like shit after that and he apologized the next morning, the self-aware darling that he is, and said he wouldn't do it again. But I was not mad this time. In fact, I was glad I had another chance to handle things better.
In other news, I'm going to a concert in november. I really didn't want to spend any more money than in household expenses, I need to save money for Nephew #2's visit in november/december (yay!) and my two trips to my hometown, for christmas and in february. The scholarship will be over by then and it won't be that easy finding a job, so I really have to take care of my income. I always do, but there's always something that throws me off: a trip, a major need in the house, a stray dog in sore need of vet care/spaying-neutering/a home. If anything, I spend my money in useful things in which I certainly don't regret investing.
So see, I'm going to see Pulp. It's Andrew's favorite band, like Aerosmith or (later in life) the Beatles are for me. If Andrew is going to leave me one day, it'll be for Jarvis Cocker, no less (I suppose I wouldn't hold it against either of them, he is kind of dreamy). A couple of friends of him that live in England got him a book he wrote AND his autograph in it. Andrew was all over the moon, it was really funny. So anyway, he and a few of his closest friends are huge fans and since the concert was confirmed they've been making plans to go to Santiago and buy the tickets as soon as they went on sale today at 12:01 am. I mean, we have our tickets already.
I said I wouldn't go. I'm worried about the money, and also I'd be preparing to present my thesis within the next weeks and waiting for Nephew #2. But deep down, I just feared I'd feel out of place. I know many of their songs, of course thanks to Andrew, and I really like the music. But this is Andrew's dream, and his friends' dream, and he and his friends have a history and getting together to see this band is going to be THE moment of their lives. I didn't want him to have to be attached to me instead of having the time of his life with his friends, all having a collective orgasm as I shyly step on my toes, which is my way of jumping. I said I didn't want him to be concerned or looking after me during the concert.
Who says I'd be looking after you? You're on your own, lady, he said.
But seriously, he insisted, let's go, I want you to be there with me. As for me not belonging in his group of friends, he said I do belong because I'm with him. So then I put myself in his shoes: of course that if I went to see my favorite band with my favorite friends, I'd love for my most-favorite-person to be there too, with me. I would in no way feel like he's a baggage or is ruining the official photograph. Kind of like how I feel with Andrew not being there for christmas with me, not in the picture I'll be taking of my whole family. It hurts, because he is part of my family, and he should be with me on this important occassion.
So there, took me a fucking while but I said yes to going to the concert. And now I'm all excited because it's more important to have experiences than to buy stuff, etc. And it's shaping up to be awesome.
I shouldn't continue with this, but I can't help it: I dreamed of Joseph. In the last dreams it's like he was getting closer and closer to me, geographically. This time I saw him. I mean, he saw me first, from afar (we were in some kind of stadium, I was in the fields) and I ducked to hid under a blanket (?). When I uncovered my head, I saw him walking towards me. I saw him exactly as I remember him, lean, dressed in black shirt and blue jeans, black wristbands, slightly spiked hair. I ignored him until the last second. Then he was in front of me, we made eye contact and I decided I wouldn't say a word; I had half of this diary to tell him and yet nothing. I felt my eyes stare at him like screaming and I know that hit him. Then I just remember he was laying on his back in front of me and I was giving him a massage, the way I give Andrew massages. And I was crying.
Then I woke up, and I saw Andrew sleeping next to me and I remembered my good fortune. There is nothing to cry about, and all things Joseph should be solely discussed in the short story I never finish (but finally it's coming along nicely).