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christmas eve || 11:47pm || christmas eve || we are watching 'this is spinal tap.' kelly says it will be our new christmas eve tradition. i'm not sure if it replaces our other tradition of lying in bed together and playing twenty questions all night (the answers are always pee wee herman, pauly shore, or george bush). i went out in the backyard tonight to lie in the grass and look at the stars, but it was foggy and dark and wet. and i was wearing a funny jacket i found in my closet that i didn't want to get dirty. lying in the grass is one of my favorite things to do down here. i used to do it on sunday mornings in my pajamas, coax the cats and dog to sit out with me and read the paper and listen for the birds in the eucalyptus tree. someone was playing the violin next door. they weren't very good at it, but it was nice. i don't like this feeling. this new christmas eve feeling of just wanting it all to be over, wanting to jump out of the car and dodge oncoming traffic instead of riding home in the car with my family. my mom was criticizing the stereo. and weezer. and not being able to find the AM. the way the windows fogged up. the way people had decorated the houses. my grandma. my cousins. fight or flight. fight or flight. i am flying. i am hovering above the roof of this house, above my sleeping parents, above the presents under the tree, above orange county and the christmas lights and coyotes, above my anorexic cousin that gave up talking and that nervous laugh this christmas, above the fog that has me socked in low, the tips of the chain link fences leaving scratches on my feet and knees. i want to be home in my leaky apartment that smells a little moldy, a little like garbage. i want it to be raining and i want to run outside without a coat to michael and owen's house where we can make music and be crafty and sit in the dark away from moms and dads and this feeling of not fitting at home anymore. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |