Stupid, sunny day

The computer is sooooo slow this morning. I keep getting monstrous emails from my cousin-in-law including pictures of her baby cutting first tooth, wearing first bathing suit, eating first foods, out and about in stroller and drooling, pooping and any other "cute" things babies do. Don't get me wrong. I love kids, but I don't need weekly updates from parents of a kid who live 400 miles away who (it should be "whom", but it sounds so pretentious) I've only met twice before in my life. Have they never heard of a blog?! Then people can look if they want to without their inboxes getting jammed up.
I am irritable today.
I tried to do yoga this morning (on a video) and got annoyed at the stupid, pretzel people. Usually I am one of those super-flexible ones who can do all the contortions, but not today. Today I was just annoyed, and I don't think that's the point of yoga. Last night I got mad at Zach when he made a simple observation while we were playing basketball. I was "cheating" by standing too close to the hoop. All of a sudden every shot I had made was discounted and I felt worthless. He hit a sore spot, but he didn't know it. How does my mind jump to those conclusions? Yes, it is my time of month. It's not meant to be an excuse, but it may explain some of my behavior. Watch out jar of Nutella in the cabinet and Zach.

The World According to Children

It's a rainy day, the oppressive kind of rainy day where it seems like the sun won't ever shine again. I am usually good about not letting the rain stop me or get in my way, but it's always had an adverse affect on my mood from as far back as I can remember. When I was about five I thought that it never rained in the summer (there must have been a drought the year before). When I confidently assured my dad that it wouldn't rain that summer he politely told me otherwise, and I had to go about restructuring my entire world view. That may have been the same year that my grandmother told me I still had twelve years of school ahead of me at the end of my kindergarten year, when I had thought that the two weeks until summer vacation would be it for the rest of my life. I was so mad at her that I wouldn't speak to her for the rest of the day. Now look at me. I'm still in school.
I leave you with this anecdote. I babysat last night for a two-year old, one I've been watching for the past few months along with his 7 month old brother. The two-year old now says my name, and it's "Anna-week". Previous two-year old pronunciations of my name include:

Anjeek (this was by my cousin who is now 26, and my grandfather still calls me this on occasion) Jalaleek (my niece Ashley)
Reese and G (Maya)

Getaway

I got in late last night from a rejuvenating weekend getaway at Nancy's in Cincinnati. It was just what I needed. I love car rides, but only when I'm driving alone, because then I can listen to my music at full volume. In fact, I could have easily kept driving for another 7 hours. I listened to the Dar Williams CD Nancy burned for me for about 5 hours straight, specifically songs number 3 and 6. After about 3 hours I could feel my eyes welling up with tears, the ones I've been holding back for weeks now. Dar Williams and Nancy finally penetrated the thick skin that had been surrounding my soul. Thanks for a great weekend and for making me laugh! It's so important, seeing as how one day we're all going to dissipate* anyway.

* Since Nancy and I are both having trouble with the idea of god and religion lately, we decided that people don't really die, but rather dissipate. Their energy is just dispersed throughout the universe.

More about Ashley

I’ve been feeling anger toward my sisters lately. Neither one is around anymore. Ashley is gone and Alyssa hasn’t been in my life for ten years now. Why did they do this to me? Why did they abandon me? I know it sounds childish, but the child-like part of me asks myself these questions every now and then.

I try to remember back to when Ashley was well, and I have to reach way back in order to get there. My mind is jogged by letters I read and pictures I see. I remember her high standards and expectations from life, which, on one hand is very admirable and on the other is very frustrating to those she was close to. She was very determined and knew what she wanted and sometimes even what other people should want. Ashley spoke her mind, sometimes with words and other times with a sigh or gesture. She would impishly raise one eyebrow up to her hairline, and that was often accompanied by a barely-audible snicker. She could be very critical, just like my uncle. She took her time doing work, never rushing anything. She was very generous, and she loved dogs. Ashley and I got closer about three years ago, a little while after she had returned to school and after I had returned from Germany. She would call and email me, and most times I wouldn’t respond, or at least not initially. It took me a while to see the sisterly bond between us that had been there from the start, because it was often camouflaged by jealousy, animosity, or ambivalence. Once we started talking more, most of that faded into the background. It never completely disappeared, but it faded. I realized that we had a lot in common and how nice it was to talk to someone who understood me so well. We shared the same parents and a childhood; nobody else, except Alyssa, knows our past so intimately. It was reassuring knowing that somebody in the world was so much like me.

Ashley’s graduation ceremony from Bryn Mawr College was held last Sunday. My mom and I walked across the stage to accept her diploma. When it was announced that her degree was awarded posthumously, the crowd gasped a little, but then applauded until after my mom and I returned to our seats. It was spectacular, heartfelt, and highly charged. I couldn’t have imagined it going any better. I kept picturing what it would have been like had Ashley actually been there. She would have been irritated with my family, annoyed that none of us knew why some of the capes were fur-lined and others weren’t, what language was printed on the cover of the yearbook (I think it’s Greek), and other silly questions. But she also would have been really happy and excited about her future endeavors. She was going to go on to graduate school. Maybe she would have studied urban development or law. I miss having Ashley around. Even if we weren’t in close contact, I regret no longer having that as an option. It’s hard for me to be angry with her, despite what I stated in the beginning. It’s especially hard because she was so sick for so long. When I think back, though, I get angry at her for “letting” herself get so sick.

There will be a plaque and a book collection dedicated in Ashley’s honor at the Bryn Mawr library. Please let me know if you can think of any books that should be dedicated in her honor. They do not need to have anything to do with her studies (Economics/Urban Development and German).