last night, I

• took a bath
• watched michelle obama’s doc, becoming – kind of a nice positive spin on America
• and then lay in bed for 5+ hours listening to billie eillish songs (had to look up how to use the word “lay” properly here)
• then listened to the same 3 songs for another good 1 or so trying to go to sleep, wallowing in faux emo-ness
• then I read woody allen’s memoir, which made me feel better, it was like watching one of his movies

some things i thought about while laying in bed:

• i forget a lot of things but there are two memories that always seem to come back to me:
  • the day I told P in the car that R was coming back and that I am going to be friends with him.  that I had my own derived values around friendship and that I wasn’t going to give up on it.  What an a-hole thing to do.  Can’t imagine how it made P feel to hear this from someone who had cheated on him, that he still had to be around because of his child and business, and someone he was clearly not over and confused about.  The reason I remember it is in that moment, I felt so “right,” and in a way so “righteous” because I was standing up for my convoluted morals – a set of false algorithms that I created so I could do what I personally wanted to.  sh*tty.
  • 2nd is when I was in the hospital after having C and P was laying on the bed next to me, singing “Goodnight Angel” and then later when I came out and he was the one standing in the “waiting room” to greet me, I’m sure we hugged for a long time.  Our lives kind of played out like a coming-of-age romcom at the time, complete with sweet, acoustic sound track and all.  But I was too stupid to realize how valuable he was, why’d I have to be that character?  Usually it’s the guy, isn’t it?!   Anyway, our story still has a happy ending, but I wish I didn’t have to so bad about parts of it for the rest of my life.  Albeit, we all deserve what we get.  #juno

C recently told me she is crazy, little does she know how cray her mother was.

She came upon a white, matte, oval object one day and didn’t know what it was.  She picked it up and immediately felt a sick.  But still she carried this object.

C and I have been communicating a lot more, which is nice. Now that we’re both older (more so me than her) it seems like I can just relate to her better.  This same sort of thing happened with Mai and all my sisters since we are so far apart in age.

Looking back, it was hard being young and trying to act like an adult to someone else.  I tried for a while (particularly up until C was in 1st grade), but at some point I think I gave up and mentally ran away – partially under the guise of “kids never listen to their parents anyway” and “I have no control over the situation”  – but that was just me turning to my favorite defense mechanism (DENIAL!) again.

Thinking of how my mom has influenced me, I know that it is untrue.  You don’t realize it until you get to know your parents better that you are a very good reflection of parts of them.

Luckily, P was there to be C’s rock in her early years and I (at the very least) imparted what I thought were my best traits on her.  P thanked me today for “taking care of the important stuff like relationships and school” but I feel like we’re just tag teaming.

Him being present for her childhood meant that I had the luxury of living out the rest of mine when we were 18, something I feel extremely lucky, selfish, and guilty about.  I’m so glad he’s found B and can start to explore the world again. It’s his turn to play, although I’m not sure he quite knows how. : P

during meditation today, I realized that my kitchen time was zombie time – super unaware and just clicking off ingredients in my head. try again later.

plus, writing after meditation is good, but not when you spend the whole meditation time thinking about what you are going to write.