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11:40 a.m. - 11/24/03
and then empty arms.
I feel really, really sad. And when I think of Tori Amos, I want to cry. How random is that? Yes, I love Tori, and yes we've gone through some dark times together, but why, right now do I feel like I'm going to start bawling if I even think about her music? And yet, I strongly suspect that if I put a CD on expecting to bawl, I won't do so. What is the matter with me?

That's not a question worth answering.

So? What question am I supposed to ask?

Do you know why you're sad?

No. I do not know. I had dreams last night; Chas was in them. I talked to Shandi, and she and her boyfriend are coming to visit tomorrow, but I'm not sad about Shandi and her boyfriend, I'm a little anxious. I'm not terribly anxious because I figure the fact that her boyfriend and I have not yet met will cover any awkwardness, make it feel less awkward than if it were just two girls who used to be really, really close and still care for each other a lot couldn't hold up a conversation in person. What else? I just got an e-mail from Rosie, and she's already talking like we never left off, like we're just two Rogers girls back in each other's stratosphere, and that's a sore viccinity but not the sore spot. I'm glad about that. Right? Hello, me and another girl from Rogers back in touch, back together? I'm glad about that, right?

Are you?

Yes.

What else are you? You're also really, really sad.

Not about Rosie.

No.

About Rogers? (That's so lame. Can it be about something else, just one time?)

You tell me.

I'm cleaning my room, by which I basically mean I'm throwing everything that hasn't found a place to live yet into my closet and making my room look presentable. My walls are still bare (despite the piles of pictures and quotes and photos and posters meant to put on them) except for the Rogers-wall and the Tori poster I bought at her Scarlet's Walk concert. I haven't listened to anything except Scarlet's Walk and Tales of a Librarian in days. It's cold out, and my heart hurts like it wants to bawl. The doctor isn't here, the way he's supposed to be, so I won't see him today. And I'm only supposed to maintain this week, I'm not supposed to jump any hurdles, or attempt to jump hurdles, but here I am having company, and I'm fine with that, I think, I'm just all hurt and sad right now, and I don't know why. Yesterday, I was really, really sick; I had one of the worst migraines I've ever had in my life, and I was writhing in agony for hours... Before it got too bad, Shandi called, I was surprised because we'd just talked the day before, but she was wondering what I had planned for Tuesday afternoon, and the answer of course, is nothing, so I planned to see her and her boyfriend here, in my apartment. The talks with Shandi were good; we're a bit out of sync, but we care about each other a lot, and despite the different ways our paths have gone, we've ended up with a lot of similar ground. I feel really bad that I wasn't around for her more senior year (junior year, I'll accept; I was in Wisconsin trying not to die...but senior year?), but that doesn't seem to be it. Oh, and I was all touched because she's talking about going into sociology and some form of communications so she can work for a non-profit organization "like RAINN" - and I was like, "one of my other halves is going off to work for Tori!" and I was really happy, the way I'm happy that my best friend from the primary grades is going to be teaching them for several years to come. ...Rosie asked about Thanksgiving, and I had to tell her about the awful Thursday at my dad's, Friday at my mom's (here) plan. I know that it's going to go better than I'm expecting, but I just don't want anything to do with it right now. Does that make sense? I know as far as holidays go, they usually suck, but they're usually ok, and we'll all be looking out for each other, and we'll have fun and whatever... But. I don't want to go out to Brigadoon and have my dad and grandma serve Thanksgiving dinner. I don't want to caravan with my brothers back into the Mortal City to have a post-Thanksgiving party with my mom, and I don't want to admit that any of this is really happening. As far as I know there's no progress on the divorce. None at all. So, if they're not moving on that, they're not sure about it, right? And if they're not sure about it, they could change their minds, and we could be a family again - even in the crappy way we were - and if that's going to happen, I don't want to go through this horrible adjustment period into something else. I don't want to get used to anything else. And if it's not going to happen, if they aren't going to get back together, I don't want to go either. I still don't want to go. I still don't want to adjust. I still don't want to change. I don't want to be a part of the new, broken reality. and I know, it doesn't have to be broken, "maybe it'll turn out for the best" - but this is so so so so wrong. I stumbled across an entry from, like, a year and a half ago, the day before yesterday, and it was moaning about one of my dad's disappearances to Brigadoon, and how he'd returned, and my parents were not divorcing, the way my mom had made it sound throughout the week. And then it said something about how, despite everything I've been through, the thought of my parents divorcing still makes me break inside, and I'm so glad I've never had to face that, and won't ever have to face that - considering they've told me again and again that they don't consider divorce an option. Jesus. I'm just a joke for the gods to play with, aren't I?

And stupid as it sounds, Tori understands. Tori gets it. Tori's been with me the whole way, since seventh grade, since everything really started to fall apart. She's been here, singing her songs, and teaching me languages, and helping me know the right lines to survive the wrong situations, and I've just been listening to this new CD, this gorgeous new CD that tells such an amazing story, and I haven't known what to do with it. With the old songs that my heart has sung in so many different moments, through so many different pains. Remember Little Earthquakes? Remember every day after school listening to it a thousand times? Remember at Rogers, stealing Chelsea's copy (temporarily), to listen, listening in her room, holding her and listening in her room, singing with her, and listening to Little Earthquakes? Remember? These songs know. They make me know. They're how I know, and I remember, and I've so much stored in them, and it hurts. Because Tori's from a time when all my supports and all my heroes had to be burned onto CDs or read in books, when they were songs and poems and daydreams. And I'm looking at this holiday, this fucked-up, unfair, joke of a Thanksgiving (don't make me feel grateful, not right now, don't make me be grateful now of all times) and Tori's-songs are still songs; they aren't a body I can take with me and lean against and cry into... They aren't a ticket away, to Wisconsin, to my real home, to be with real family. Rosie's talking about her Thanksgiving plans, and they sound so normal - do I go with my boyfriend or do I stay and knit the day away with my grandma? - and I'm thinking how this is the season of home. This is the season, despite the fact I was never there now, when the fireplaces are lit and the candles are in the window, and everyone ventures through the stormy weather home. And I don't want to do that with a bunch of songs that mean the world to me but aren't enough. I don't want to do that with my family and only them. I want to celebrate and give thanks with the home where it feels obvious, where I don't have to dig around for gratitude.

So I figured it out; hooray for me. Holidays are the worst of all times to be homeless. And even Tori can only remind me how long we've said the same words of comfort, again and again and again.

chord

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