"you know who you look like? carol kane."

i want to be overseas by my 30th birthday. it can happen. i will try.
i have been in a great deal of physical pain lately- it feels as if someone has smacked me around with a bat. i am getting used to it. i am moving rather animatronically (is that the word?). it gets better as the day progresses, or perhaps it was the nice alcohol buzz, but i had little problem sprawling on s's sofa in the dark and making out with him like we were in high school. i am skittish as fuck about anything serious. as usual. but he's intelligent as fuck, makes me laugh, makes me happy. and that is all i need, really.
this weekend my uncle is apparently moving my grandmother into a nursing home. she does not know this yet. my grandfather has been in the hospital this week. i went to their house last saturday for my oma's 91st birthday. he looked like he was going to keel over at any moment; she was sporadically sentient but often not. i have so much more appreciation for my mother. watching the three of them interact, their facial expressions, how she handles them both with a bemused complacency that is mostly absent from the rest of her life, makes me feel really fucking lucky to know her. i would love my mother even if she wasn't my mother.
my father, on the other hand, has been aloof and nippy with me lately- as if he's begrudgingly accomodating a stranger. and it hurts my feelings and pisses me off, but not so much that i'll actually ask him why. i suspect my mother may have relayed some of my comments from a few weeks ago, when she and i went out to dinner (fucking applebee's, in tacoma- her suggestion. i had never been in one before, on purpose. it was hideous. i had fries.). "he constantly is on your case" i said. "it's been pretty alienating. i don't really like being around the two of you together because of how he treats you." my mother smiled and shrugged. "funny, everyone says how mean doug is" she said, "but i never see it." i didn't push the conversation further.
i am typing this in the airy library in quaint north bend, in a residential area with clean yards and american flags a-flyin'.
i passed the diner where twin peaks was filmed, where c and i once sat among hundreds of stuffed tweety birds, where the women's loo had a plumbing bill adhered to the wall with "DON'T FLUSH ANYTHING BUT TOILET PAPER!" scrawled above it. now, a brighter time, sleeveless, with cherries and blueberries being sold alongside the road. and 'see emily play' was on the radio.
i just wish my body would comply with my mind.