Sunday, 09.02.2012 - 10:44 pm.
I was very aware of this fact yesterday but I was also very lazy: HAPPY 11th BIRTHDAY, DEAR DIARY!!! I didn't write, as you can tell, but I spent the day remembering the context in which I started this diary, eleven years ago.
Back then, it seems, my biggest issue in life was finding an e-mail domain that contained the word "aerosmith", because aerosmith.com was just for the official [paid] fanclub. It was thanks to such existential anguish that I came across this site. So it was a saturday night and I started writing in english in case my parents took a peek behind me. Oh, and also I was worried about my crush on The Guy, who was my first kiss but who was also kind of rapey (which is why he kissed me). A few months ago, incidentally, he sent me a message on Facebook: "how are you, beautiful?". I deleted him some time ago from my friends list and of course, I didn't reply to that (and to a previous one that was basically the same).
And now, look at me, eh. Got my psych degree, got my heart horribly shattered into dust, published two books (read by six or seven people), have three blogs (read by a slightly higher number of people), won a scholarship abroad and I've travelled to a couple of countries in North, Central and South America. Found the most wonderful man, my Andrew. And I have an e-mail address that has no reference to Aerosmith whatsoever but I saw them TWICE live, each time in a different country. And Paaaaul McCaaaartneeey!!! So there's that, too.
*Feels like a sir*.
These days I've been enjoying the change of season. I practically spent 26 years living in summer so I had no idea how wonderful it was to feel the warmth of the sun after a long, wet, smoke-infested cold winter.
Two days ago I bought my plane tickets to go see my family in december, using my life savings (I'm kind of proud of that). I started to panic because things will be very different when I get there and I'll probably feel a little left out, perhaps even like I've been kicked out. All of my stuff was moved out of my bedroom and my mom is sleeping there, and she has no hair. My dad is anxious all the time and sleeps very little. My pets don't live there anymore. But to all that I can only say that I must not take it personally. It's cancer stuff.
My friend and former boss Tamara says that once my scholarship is over, she has a job waiting for me in the university she works at, and another one with her husband, who's a surgeon and needs someone to work with his overweight patients that are applying to undergo a bypass procedure. She makes it sound like it's a fact, like the positions are just waiting for me, perhaps because she thinks very highly of me and has recommended me with the kindest words, bless her heart. It's so humbling, and I appreciate that she has so much faith in me. Still, I don't want to get too hopeful yet.
Today I was working on my short story about what happened with Joseph. I started feeling so hurt and furious because I was working on the worst days after the break-up (around my birthday and our mutual friend Fer's funeral) but then I was able to step out of the story and be ok. It's like my story with him has become a work of fiction, of very detailed fiction, but something that in the end doesn't affect me (emotionally) anymore in real life.
Also, I've realized I have that bug again, of getting my work published. It's a silly impulse, really, like the one I got with my tattoos. You might think it's about exposure but my tattoos are hidden all the time (except for Andrew) and my books are not read by the masses.
I just learned Nephew #3 may come at the end of november, staying for almost a month with Andrew and me. I am so excited about this. Only my friend Rod has been able to come visit, last year, and so far no one from my family has. It's very difficult to come all the way down here, I understand. Anyway, this got me thinking of how strange it is that I've been living with my boyfriend for over a year and a half and most of my family has no idea.
Look, dear diary, the silly little girl that started you is now a respectable silly grown-up.
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