Schedule:
Today: Homework, yoga-shopping, Happy Hour at TGIFs with Briana, Andria, and Josh.
Sunday: Finish homework, No Strings Attached with Krista; that night Oasis with Krista, Nicole, Sam, Megan and maybe, Kristin, Lindsay, and Ronny.
Monday: Campus from 7am-12pm; 7pm-820pm
Tuesday: Campuss from 930am-12pm
Wednesday: Campus 7am-12pm, definite nap, and then Daniel's show at the Wire, In-n-Out afterwards.
Thursday: Campus 930am-12pm; Lunch in Azusa, then Disneyland for the afternoon; that night, The Fox Theater in Redlands for Marc's show.
Friday: Either a date with Sean (yes... we'll see) or maybe Blue Valentine with Ronny, or maybe something else?
Saturday: Disneyland again for Mia's 5th birthday! My little niece-y is so big! I can't wait to see her and Damian, my babies! And of course, seeing Alyssa =)
Sunday: Recovery/Homework.
Too busy. But I'm looking forward to each moment.
My first week back at school ended Thursday afternoon, and all in all, I'd have to say that I'm pretty excited to see what this semester brings. Not only am I back in a classroom with one of my favorite professors, I'm treated to three new instructors who all seem interesting and a bit eccentric. Most of all, I'm looking forward to yoga. After one class, I could feel the difference in my breathing, my posture; this general over-all awareness of my body that I haven't had since show choir. Not only that, but I felt incredibly calm after one session.
The schedule I'm on during the week definitely isn't condusive to staying up all night on the weekends, which I'll have to learn the hard way apparently. I've been going to bed somewhere between 9:30pm and 11pm every night, and waking up between 5:30am and 7:30am every morning. Except, obviously. on the days I don't have school.
I already have homework... which you know, doesn't really surprise me. I was sort of hoping not to have homework the first week, but hey man, let's get on it. One class I have to finish the Codes of the Hammurabi, finish an article from the Atlantic, finish a map, and get my yoga supplies. Not exactly brain surgery, but a lot of reading and writing it all down.
Though my entire week has been pretty decent, aside from the fact that I was sick--which thankfully, I'm more or less over my cold again --the best part of my week was spending Thursday with Ronny.
Hands down, the best six hours I've had in a while.
We were supposed to the King's Speech the Monday night before classes started again, but I was sick... But since I felt better, we decided to catch a showing after he got home Thursday night.
When I got into the car, he immediately teased me about being ill and told me to sit in the back of the car. But of course, I didn't. We were supposed to meet Nolan at the movie theater, but he was literally a half hour late getting there. So, Ronny and I just sort of talked and hung out by the "arcade".
I hadn't seen him since my now infamous birthday and he took the time to remind me of the drunken hot mess I was. Which was lovely. I was basically bright red. And then when Nolan got there, they ran and hugged and were sloppy all over one another. Nolan and I gave each other crap, and then we went to our theather.
The movie... for lack of a better word was fucking incredible. Colin Firth deserves every nomination, every award, he deserves to knighted. My god, that performance was nothing but gold. And Helena Bohem Carter and Geoffery Rush were just as amazing in their own right. It was spectacular.
During the movie, we had a popcorn fight and the boys kept making fun of me for saying, "oh my god" repeatedly and squishing my bottle of water between my hands anxiously. We put our feet on the back of the seats in font of us and I realized just how short I am. They're both at least 6 foot. So, while my feet barely touch the back of the chairs, their feet hang over if they let them.
Afterwards, we stood outside talking for about an hour. Laughing, rough-housing, teasing one another; I got lots of hugs-- lots of creepy, three person hugs, with Ronny walking up to Nolan and me, whispering things like, "I really like you guys" and me trying to get away from the overly awkwardness of it all. But I honestly loved it. I haven't seen Nolan in a year or so, and it's been weird not seeing Ronny every week as I've become used to.
And I've definitely missed having testosterone in my life. Or as I called it the other day 'platonic penis'. Just guys I can hang out with, without it being awkward or sexually charged, or anything like that.
I love just being one of the guys when it suits me. And Thursday night, it definitely did.
When we left, Ronny and I went to the market to find dollar rental places. Finally, we found one that had The Social Network and The Kids Are All Right.
We sat in the car for a long time outside of my house, talking, listening to music, and singing. That's another thing I haven't done in a while. Just sit there with someone you care about and talk, really talk about important things and laugh about the stupid things. He read me some of his new lyrics and as always, I was impressed beyond belief. We sang to one another-- Brand New, Against Me!, and Taking Back Sunday just to name a few.
It felt good. Really good.
He offered to take me to see Blue Valentine today, but we didn't end up going. He wants to try for next weekend, but I'm super busy. Hopefully though we'll find time to go.
On a heavier note, tonight wasn't as good.
I'm feeling super stressed out about my money situation and I just couldn't handle it. Right now, we're basically living off nothing. Everything goes to the house payment, utilities, and groceries. I felt guilty for having to spend so much to take the yoga class I'm in, even going as far as almost dropping the class. The equipment is just so expensive.
And then the money stress turned into repressed stress, and everyone knows how that goes. One thing after the other and it just doesn't stop. It went from money, to being down on myself for not being smart enough, to not being good enough or pretty enough, or really, anything enough.
Mary really talked some sense into me. In my opinion, out of all the people I know, she is the most logical; the most realistic and mature-- though she has her moments like this, and when she does, I'm there to talk her down too.
First, she offered to help me pay for my yoga equipment. Which.. was just too generous and wonderful of her.
Me: I feel like a bad person.... Nothing is ever enough for me. I don't feel like I'll ever do anything in life. That I'm just this stupid girl and no one will ever take me seriously or love me or anything. That I'll never be good enough for anything or anyone.
Mary: That isn't even true and you know it. Everything takes time time and happens when it's supposed to.. try not to overstress yourself or worry, you're a good person and we all know that.
Me: I don't feel like that. Just stupid and useless and not good enough. I'm surrounded by these people who get everything they want, it's easy, it all comes easy. Their parents just give them everything and anything, and they don't know what struggle feels like. They don't even realize or appreciate what they're given or how lucky they are. And it just makes me so mad and bitter. I just don't even know.
Mary: I hate those people. This might seem mean, but if them around you depresses you, maybe you should rid them from your life or limit your time. And you're smart and an incredible writer. We all have our dumb moments (I am downright retarded at times) but they don't define us. Even if you don't believe it, you are smart; smarter than most people I know. You aren't a bad person and I love you.
She's right, on evey level and I'm so aware of that, that it makes me embarrassed to have freaked out so badly. But in the last three months, every sad or bad thought, has concerned someone else. I haven't thought about me. Not really at all, in any aspect. And the moment of weakness just gave through to all this negativity that at times, we all feel about ourselves.
I try to make it a habit to stay away from that zone. It's dangerous. And it's been a while since I've felt that down about who I am. In reality, I don't think I'm terrible. And I try my very best every day to live my life as the happy and gracious person I am (most of the time), but today I just couldn't.
It might also have to do with the fact that I was cranky. I slept too late today, and having woken up almost every morning the last week before the sun, it was disorientating to be up well after mid-afternoon.
And of course, this Sunday marks three months since Ronnie passed away.
I've been handling it better for the last month, I'd say. Keeping myself busy enough to where it isn't the first thing on my mind every day when I wake up.
But still, every night before bed, I grab my pendant and say, "I love you baby, goodnight." Like I have every night since October 23rd. Even when I've been in bed with other people, or sharing the same room with someone else, I still do it.
It hit me again the other day in class.
I haven't thought about his death in terms of... actual dying lately. I've sort of accepted the hard truth of it. But for some reason in the middle of lecture, it hit me all over again.
For a second I honestly couldn't breathe; the breath was knocked entirely out of me... I teared up a bit and tried my hardest to bite back the noise I could already feel building in my throat. You know that sound that sort of tears out of you when something terrible has happened and you can't believe it? So animalistic and scary that you honestly don't understand how it came from you? That's the sound.
I've become better at ignoring the pain in his loss, his absence, how hard it was in the beginning. And I thought I was dealing with it, but I haven't been. Ignoring it, isn't the same as accepting it or believing it or coming to terms with the truth.
As I laid in bed last night, I tried to remember our last conversation. It was stupid and inane and I was going on about something that doesn't even matter now. I told him I loved him, as always. And as always, he told me he loved me too. And then I told to stay safe. He told me he was trying his best. We did the I love yous again... and then his screen went grey.
There isn't a day that goes by that I don't miss him. It's impossible not to miss him. But laying in bed, it hurt to realize once again, that we'll never have another conversation. That he's gone. And as morbid as it is to think, he's laying under grass and dirt, cold and not conscious.
I miss him to the moon and back, to the ends of the universe and home to my heart again. It's infinite and sad and every day I think of his smile or laugh or something distinctly Ronnie.
I can't believe it'll be three months on Sunday.
How have I survived these last 94 days? I don't have an answer. In the beginning, when it first happened, I didn't think it was possible. Some days, I still don't. But I know he's never too far away. I believe that as much as I believe in anything-- even if it's only because I have to.
Vanessa, his fiance, said something the other day like, "With every step I take into the future, I feel like I'm walking away from him." And I suppose for the most part, I have the same mentality. Moving forward means moving away from the years we spent together... but I know I have in my heart. That I'm taking him everywhere I go. I just miss his constant reassurance and strength; his overwhelming faith and trust in the way things are meant to work out.
Every day comes with some sort of struggle. But I know I'm strong enough to meet it head-on, and when I don't remember that, I have the most amazing support system to remind me-- and I have the most amazing guardians looking after me from beyond this life.
I'm strong enough.
And as all things do, this too shall pass.
