SIMPLY ELABORATE blog

Archive for the ‘family’ Category

So I haven’t posted. I’ve been up north. Making more money in a week than I did in a week of being in the city. And it’s great. I’m having fun. Relaxing. Working. Getting job interviews. All that jazz. And I couldn’t be happier. Well, maybe I could be. If my sister was here. If my sister hadn’t left. If I haven’t spent the last week bawling my eyes out because I just know it’s going to be a very long time since I’ll ever see her again.

But there’s nothing I can do. Except live my life here. Get things started again for the new school year, new phone numbers, new address, new clothes, new life – again. What can I say except it’s a bittersweet feeling. The same feeling I always get once the summer begins to come to a close. I leave soon and nothing’s ready, not my lease, not my packing, not my computer, not me. I’m not ready. You’d think that over the course of 4 months something would have clicked me into being prepared for this move, but no. I sit waiting and trying to figure out what this year’s going to bring, yet try not to think about it too much, because as soon as I do, it’ll be here, and then it’ll be gone. Another year of school complete and another year of my life.

I always speak about how much life changes in such a short period of time, how things can perform a complete 180 in a flash when sooner or later, all the talk about change gets to me and suddenly, because of all the change, it doesn’t seem to be “changing” all that much anymore. It’s just my life. It’s just everyone’s life. Things change so quickly that as soon as something is said that deems to be official, already it’s turning around. That’s the way it is I guess. Without it, life would be boring. And we can’t have that, can we?

I’ll just say it again, it’s the bittersweet ending that’s getting to me. It’s like my relationship with the word bittersweet. I love the look of it – b-i-t-t-e-r-s-w-e-e-t- it’s so cute, but it’s meaning is so powerful and ironic. Is it actually even the right term, ironic? Or is it the ironic like how Alanis thinks things are ironic? Who knows? It’s a bittersweet feeling, a bittersweet answer.

It all contributes to the bittersweet life.

I was driving my sister to work yesterday and we were laughing about something and singing the Backstreet Boy’s latest on the radio (yes, we really do like the ol’ BSB) when all of a sudden she says:

“I can’t wait to start my life,” looking out the window and then at my raised eyebrow. “What?” She asks me.

“Nothing, I just thought that’s what you’re already doing,” I replied looking back to the road in front of us.

She was referring to the fact that in less than 30 days, less than 4 weeks, she’s moving to Manchester (not London, Manchester), England – supposedly for the rest of her life. Finishing off school there and then “starting her life” which just leads me to wonder about what the hell she’s been doing for the last 23 years that her life is just going to start then.

After I dropped her off at work, and before I started at mine, I grabbed a coffee and walked along Dundas trying to catch some rays and wake up a little more before work started. And I couldn’t help but wonder what my life is going to be like once she leaves. More like what my family’s life is going to be like. She’s left before. Her first year of university she left us for British Columbia’s Simon Fraser University and we thought we wouldn’t see her for the next four years (she came back after one). My dad cried the day she left. I’d never seen him cry, neither had my mom apparently, but he did. My mom bought a set of new leather couches the same day. And me? What had I done, I can’t even remember. But I remember knowing that nothing would ever be the same. And it wasn’t. Although that was the year that my sister and I became closer, it was the year things started to fall apart between my parents. Maybe it was the fact that one of their children started university and more bills had to be paid. Maybe it was purely the fact that she had chosen a school so far away. I used to think it was because I wasn’t good enough to fill the void of the ‘missing’ child, but soon realized it had nothing to do with me. I didn’t understand what was wrong or what I could to help fix the problem but as time went on, I was treated more and more like a younger child and I tried even harder to prove I wasn’t anymore. I felt like they didn’t want me to leave like she did so if they pretended I was a child, I would continue to be one. Although I did grow up and now I’m entering my third year of university and although it’s considerably closer than Manchester, I’m still going to be gone. And so is she. And they’re (my parents) going to be here. Alone. Together.

The change is already happening. Already, I’m being treated like I’m thirteen again and it’s believed that I’m unable to take care of myself despite the fact that I have been living on my own for the past 2 years. I can’t do my laundry without getting yelled at, I have to be “watched” as I sort my clothes because my mother is convinced that I’m going to ruin her washer by putting in too big of a load. Someone has to know where I am 24/7 (although most of the time it’s at work) and if I’m five minutes late the cell phone rings constantly until I provide some sort of valid statement of where I am. Whenever I’m with friends, I sigh, annoyed, and turn to them after I’ve gotten off the phone with my mother: “You know, it’s only midnight. If I were in Windsor, I’d still be in pyjamas probably, just getting ready to trek to E or B’s house and be there until 3 or 4 in the morning.” They’ll laugh but not really understand what I mean. Because nobody understands the way my family works, hell, my family doesn’t even understand how our family works, so how can I expect anyone else to?

Once the sister leaves, the same things are going to happen that happened when I was sixteen. Only this time it’s worse because when I was sixteen, I was depressed and stayed home all the time anyway. Now I have a life. Now I stand up for myself when things are unfair. And my mother doesn’t like that. She says I’m becoming more and more like my sister everyday. The thing is, maybe I am, and she doesn’t want me to choose to move so far away like she has. So the more she tries to keep me closer, she doesn’t realize she’s pushing me further away.

I’m at O’s house right now, trying to download he’ll be back from Jennifer Lopez’s new album. I want her to hear the song because although it proves that J.Lo in fact, cannot sing, it’s a really good song.

We’re going out tonight and drinking our hearts away. Well, not to sound like an alcoholic, which I’m definitely not. However, this is the first week of summer. Officially. I thought I’d feel different, I guess. But I don’t. It’s not like back in the day when elementary school was done for the summer and we had nothing to do but relax in the sun and swim in the sea. Hell, that’s what I did last summer.

Instead, I’m sitting here, growing up, drinking with some great friends and contemplating what I’m going to do tomorrow. Prepare for job interviews and go for coffee with L, I suppose.

I’m so proud. She did all by herself. All I did was tell her how to make the © sign. And she did.

Her first website. I new she could do it. LOL.

Check out the sister’s website for school –> Urban Change in Saskatoon.

So proud, Sabrina, so very, very proud.

Whenever I go home and see my cats, I smile because they are so cute. And stupid. Well, one of them is, the other one is actually pretty smart, or maybe we just think she is comparing her to her deranged mother.

I was going through my digital camera and realized I still had pictures on it from my last trip home. And about ten of them of my 14 year old cat, Tulip.

We’ve thought for many years that she’s trying to kill herself because everytime someone pulls up in our driveway, she runs TOWARDS the car. Not away from it like smart cats, or even scared cats. Her daughter, our other cat, Baby (she got the unique name, after all), sits on the porch steps and watches. She doesn’t meow in cat language for her mom to get out of the way or anything like that. Baby just sits there and watches as whoever is in the car honks, rolls down their window and yells out the window until finally, either the driver or a passenger, gets out of the car and physically moves her. It’s actually a very annoying process, especially if you’re in a hurry.

But we love her. I remember the day we got her, she pooed on the drive home in the box she was in. I remember my mom going “Great. She’s going to be trouble.” And everyone was silent as the smell of cat shit wafted through the air. When we got home, we took her out of the box and watched her sniff around the house. Tulip carefully crawled up the small step of the fireplace and smelled the bricks while we all smiled with happiness. I think a week later she pooed in the middle of it, we never used it again.

Fourteen years later her and Baby stay in the garage all year because they can’t be trusted inside. Some days, if we’re late in their designated feeding times (actually, I should say if my dad is late in the designated feeding times), they get annoyed and sit by the front door, waiting for someone to go in or out so they can squeeze through inside.

Well, I should say that Baby tries to squeeze through. Tulip does this:

It’s like she’s this close to making it, and tries really, really hard, but she can’t do it. She just can’t see the door right beside her.