||[Jul. 17th, 2006|04:10 pm]
I went shopping today, I would have much rather gone in the evening as I am not a morning person. However I made out like a bandit. We found this quaint little shop with very interesting clothing. I got a black velvet spaghetti strap to with gold lace and lovely sequin bead work, two silk skirts with a lace and sequin lining one is read and fades to brown with amber beading while the other is turquoise on the top and fades to a very rich purple with torque sequins set into the lace button, I also got a long Victorian eske skirt a burnt pastel pink with lots of white lace, I also got a Victorian esce blouse its layered with a pink camisole then a lacy pink top over it, and ribbons it looks very Victorian and is almost doll like, a nice shirt from India with a traditional Indian pattern on it, again with a ribbon, (the ribbons you tie under your bosom, and this style of shirt works with me since my waist I so long and tiny), I also goy a ream colored corset esce camisole with nice lace work on the top and button (its pretty not slutty I swear), I also got a black Victorian esce skirt with white lace through out (a little French maid like but it looks fab on), another Victorian ecse top exactly like the pink one but black, another just black Victorian esce skirt with shear net lining (honestly I would look Goth except for the fact I’m blonde and constantly smiling, honestly though I like victorian esce clothing it looks good on my figure because modern clothes weren’t made for woman shaped like an hour glass and that’s me, like jeans, my God, hard to find a ft because my hips are huge, yet my waist is so small (though fitting into dresses is a breeze), and finally a very cute sun dress it is ink and blue like cotton candy and wispy like a fair dress almost. Then I also got two pieces of jewelry. A Victorian esce choker, very large and elegant, made of gold and accented in amber the center peace of which is a large cameo rose (roses happen to be my favorite flower) the necklace came with matching ear rings, and another cameo set in blue frames by blue velvet (I like blue because when I wear blue my eyes look bluer, I love my eyes having grey eyes is fun). Now the best thing about all this is that all this only came to 130 dollars. Isn’t that wonderful, I think it is, and is quite happy.|
The shopping took my mind off my Father, I love him, but, honestly I don’t know the man. He’s trying to bond with me, but I’m seventeen, and where was he when I was a child, I only saw him once every three years or something. And he has such weird ideas. He is a long haired, hippy person who is very much like a hobo. And it’s hard forming a relationship. He wants to take me camping and to quote my aunt and guardian in respects to me going camping “she’s a bit of a princess” I have also been called fussy, vain, and a brat. Meh, whatever. Anyway, I am kind of, I like stuff, and being clean and I wear velvet, lace, and silk, and don’t have any tee shirts that particularly want ruined either. I don’t like camping. My father say I don’t know what I like, well excuse me. Anyway it’s not just camping, I can do nature, in fact I like hunting, and horse back riding, though fishing is dull. Anyway it’s just that he wants to live off the land and clime to some mountain top, and bath in hot springs and water falls. And he keeps talking about nature worship, nature is your mother, forget God, worship the earth, set yourself free, you’re buying in to the materialism and modern technology is a curse. (At this point in the conversation I reminded him that we were talking on the phone, hello that’s technology). Honestly though, I don’t want to be lectures on nature worship, or set free, and I understand his need to try and be some sage figure and teach me something, I am his daughter after all, but I’m 17 at the moment. And it’s not in my nature to want to listen to anyone or be taught, I’m trying kind of to figure out things myself right now. And you know camping, and nature, and picking wild mushrooms (to eat not the drug kind) and berries, and catching crawdads in the stream would all have been more appealing when I was 5 or 10, really. And I start thinking about him being there when I was little, and I think of my mother, and him not being there when I was 12 and she was dealing drugs out of our house, and when I was locking myself in my room with my rosary praying to God that the stoner friends she let in the house wouldn’t break my door down and hurt me. Or that someone would come in and shot all of us, she kept pounds of marijuana in the closet, her table in her room held baggies of white powder (not sure what drug it was), and she kept her drug money in my room, my room, hidden in the stand for a porcelain doll that I had on the top of my book shelf. (not to mention she owed a lot of money to the Cuban mob, she said once when I left to go stay with another relative” you are my daughter and f you loved me you should want to die with me”) And I think why wasn’t my father there when my mother lost herself to addiction. (and I feel so sad). But oh my mother’s better now, recovering after being in and out of jail for 2 years after I left, and finally like herself again and doing better and for the past 4 years since 8th grade summer I have been living with my aunt and have been so happy. But when I talk to my father, I think about both my parents, who are both, well. In my father’s defense I never told him what was happening with my mother. I never told anyone for two years until it got so bad I was afraid to stay there anymore, and my mom was falling asleep at the wheel on the freeway, and never home at night, and oh God. I hate thinking of this. Anyway I never told him or anyone, my mother said she’d kill herself if I told, or left her. And if I told someone would take me away. When I was four she told me that if I ever told that she did pot I would be taken away, and she would kill her self. She held a knife to her chest once, it was Christmas time, I remember that, I was around 6, and said “do you want me to stab myself, you hurt mommy the way you are acting, you want me dead”, that was always the way with her. Emotional manipulative trips, Mother, oh Mother. And during the drug thing it was if you tell you’ll be killing me. To save myself at her expense. You should love mommy.
I hate thinking about this. Its over though, its done, and I am a well adjusted, successful young lady, good in school, normal, no issues, but, its an inescapable fact my past.
My mother did love me, when I was a child, oh I was spoiled. I think she replaced her drug addiction with motherhood in some ways. Though she used while pregnant, induced labor with drugs, afterwards she got clean. And I was a miracle baby, undamaged by all she had done. And I had a good childhood. She doubted on me, bought me any toy I wanted, spent time with me, always, I was her world, and she was mine because I was a child and she was my mother. She fell of the wagon when I became a teenager; she needed to have a child. Dependent on her, it was what held her to being straight in some ways. She said I stopped loving her, or in her mind I was grown up and didn’t need her. She didn’t understand that teenagers pull away, that’s nature, and she saw it as abandonment. She had only had two roles in life, addict and mother. So when I began to grow up, she reverted to the only other role she had ever known. Another thing was that her mind was very much like a twelve year olds, all the drugs she had done, and the fact she through herself in front of a truck once before I was born (she also once shot herself point blank, and other suicide attempts, before I was born she was always looking for death or pain, her own destruction) and the truck did some damage to her mind. So when I started growing up, and I was learning so fast then I had recently learned to read (in 4th grade due to finally recognizing and overcoming dyslexia) and was discovering my own intelligence. I surpassed her in some ways; many times it felt like we were sisters or something, now she is very like a child.
She is clean now, and everything is right with her. Though she still is very child like, and doesn’t like the fact I’ve grown up. She calls me and tells me she misses me, and talks about seeing other parents with their daughters. I say most teens avoid there parents, she says she meat the little kids. She misses the little girl I was, when I was 16, last summer I went to visit her and she gave me this porcelain doll she’d been saving, which she called Annabel, and she said she wanted me to have it. I was like, thanks um, do you realize I’m 16. But her mind is different, I understand that, and I love her. Love her with all my heart, despite times I’ve felt horribly towards her. I love her, she better now really. Living with a friend who is a paraplegic as his live in care giver. So she has someone dependent on her, and he gives her room and board, a place to stay. Codependent is how she functions, and now it seems things have worked out for the best for her.
Gosh I guess I had to get that introspection out. Sigh, and back to my father. Well, I don’t know him; there is no familial bond between us. I do want a relationship. I do, and want to love him. It’s just a weird time now, I guess. I don’t know, I want to be a good daughter, and I don’t know. I’ll try. Camping, nature, listening to his rants on conspiracy theories, and his lude jokes, and his complete lack of since of social graces and propriety, I have to learn to accept him, know him, and even love him for ho he is, I suppose.
Wow, I've written alot about my excuse the vernacualar (s**t). Man I'm open about this,I guess I have to be, I can't just introspect and keep in inide, writing it is good. So there it is. Man my life is srreal, I wish it wasn't true it sounds like a lifetime speacial. Sigh, bt now I'm good, so very blessed and lucky.