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2001-03-22 || 02:10 p.m. || grandma with the white hair and my super tough sister. || oh. i just remembered that when grandma with the white hair (as opposed to grandma far away. that is what we call them. we, my sister and i, ages 22 and 24, respectively. said grandma far away, june, 1999: 'you know jenny, i think you're getting old enough to call me grandma jean.' nope.) sent me a letter last month or the month before she enclosed like 5 stamps with the letter. grammy, you're breaking me heart. she does that every once in a while. that little passive-aggressive nudge. much more effective than 'why don't you write more often to your grandmother? you know she won't be around for much longer..'. and you can't pocket the stamps and use them on pg+e bills or rent checks, obviously, and what's worse is they end up sitting in the envelope with the letter. forever. i could start a guilty stamp collection. and i just talked to my sister and she was telling me about all the gunshots she hears around her apartment. painfully close, with audible getaway footsteps cutting a path through her apartment complex. there was another shooting at a school in el cajon today. there was a shooting at the strip club down the street that is incidentally in the direct path of the seven-eleven i have been dreaming of visiting. it is always such a weird feeling to recognize blood stains on sidewalk. and it must be a weirder feeling to recognize them in the middle of a lovely spring day on your way to get a squishie with your delectable lovely sister. so now i am all anxious about her. living alone in evil jungle number one. the front door is too thin to keep the meanies out. she is forgetful and will leave the windows open. she walks around too late at night and is too cute and someone will try to snatch her up. i am crazy protective when it comes to my sister, although time and time again it has been proven that she is the protector in the relationship, the leader, the big sister. she used to talk for me when i was too shy. she kept me together during earthquakes. she let me sleep with her all those nights when i was having nightmares (um. i was 13. she was 11.). oh man. i cry now. i don't like the thought of her all by herself in a big scary place without me around to make her act big and mighty and tough. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |