Other Random Ramblings

I’d love to say that I know what you’re going through, but I don’t. I’d love to say that I have all the information - that maybe right now you’re going through the stages of grief or something, so we can predict how you’ll be feeling and how you’ll be doing, and maybe we can get through this somehow. I want to tell you that I know a way to organize this mess, but I don’t. I don’t know anything except what’s happening right now, and what’s happening is you finally asked me this impossible question: Why?

I know what you’re asking because I’ve been asking the same question. It’s not, “Why is this happening?” It’s, “Why is this happening to me?”

You’re not asking me why this disease exists. You’re not asking me how you got it because the doctors have already told you that and it’s made no difference. You’re asking me why, out of all the people in the world, it had to be you.

I wish I had a good answer. I wish I knew what to say to help you accept this. I wish I could make you feel just a little bit better. But I don’t know. The only answer I have is I don’t know. 

We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we were born to be.

My brother decided to cook us a homemade meal tonight and said he was going to make some really fancy spaghetti with an expensive bottle of wine.

“I don’t have a corkscrew,” I warned him, but he was all, “You’re stupid. Unlike you, I have a great corkscrew. I’ll bring it with me.”

Fast forward two hours later, when he actually needs to use said corkscrew. He looked at the wine, looked at the corkscrew, and then gave me a hopeless look. “Do you know how to use one of these?”

I made fun of him a bit and then told him that no, I’ve never actually opened a bottle of wine before. I offered to Google it, but he decided to follow his instincts. He screwed the cork into the top and started pulling, but after five minutes the cork was still lodged in the bottle, so I took matters into my own hands.

I found a tutorial online and started reading it out loud for him. Turns out he “forgot” to remove the foil, but that was the least of our problems. Somehow - and I really don’t know how this happened - he ended up breaking the damn corkscrew, with the screw part stuck in the cork. “Great corkscrew,” my ass.

This is where we started searching for alternate ways to open the wine. We tried using a hammer to pull the screw out, but it ended up breaking (again). We tried hitting the bottom of the bottle with a hardcover book, but decided that it would take way too much time. By this point, my brother was calling all his friends and telling them what a mess we’re in.

“Just break the bottle,” one of his friends said.

“But we’ll waste the wine!” my brother replied. God forbid we waste the wine.

We tried using a flathead screwdriver to wedge the cork out, and we actually made some progress before the cork split in two. In the end, I took the wine over to my neighbor’s house and promised them a glass if they managed to open it (which they did). My brother dumped half the wine in the spaghetti sauce and we’re in the process of drinking the rest of it ourselves.

So I’ve been insanely busy lately with getting settled into my new apartment. You know what your parents never tell you? How hard it is to move. Finding a great apartment is hard, but even when you’ve found a lovely place to live, it’s STILL NOT OVER. You actually have to move things. And buy things. And pay bills for electricity and hot water and cable. IT SUCKS.

But there are some nice things, too, like waking up in your own bed and going into your own kitchen to make your own coffee (which I don’t do very well, but still). I own an apartment. It’s lovely and I’m happy.

Anyway, as of now, I don’t have cable or internet or anything, which is why I’ve been absent from the internet for a total of twenty-nine days (yes, I’ve been counting). The good news is that the cable guys are coming on Monday, so the wait is almost over.

Luckily, I have a common room in the apartment complex where internet is available for free, and that’s where I am now. I’ve missed you guys!

a-place-to-organize-my-gifs:

I’ve become totally obsessed with Robert Sheehan. Thankfully, I’m not alone.

Made a COMPLETE ass out of myself today. I was checking out a cute guy and ended up walking straight into a door.

He smirked at me after, so here’s hoping he thought it was cute and not just stupid.

Got the keys to my new place and have been slowly moving all my things there. So far, the apartment is empty except for a few clothes hanging in my closet and the books I’ve lined up on the floor (and I’ll address this properly in another post, but oh my God, you guys. I have SO MANY books. I’ve become a hoarder of books over the years. I’m sort of proud of myself, but I’m also really surprised).

I don’t know what it is about the new place, though. Maybe it’s because it’s still empty and there’s nothing there yet, but it doesn’t feel like home. I was sitting on the floor in my empty living room yesterday and all I could think was, This is a stranger’s house.

But like I said, it’s probably because there’s nothing to go home to at the moment. We’ll wait and see how I feel about it once I’ve bought a bed and a couch. And once I have some food in the fridge.

In a weird way, I sort of like how empty it is right now, though. It’s sort of beautiful. I feel like spending the whole day there and taking a bunch of pictures.