something is scratching its way out.

Well, I think I’m pretty much on schedule as far as doing something new, or somewhat new anyway, goes.

All moved in, unpacked, pretty much settled and attempting to re-create a routine…cue in the mild case of separation anxiety and the checklist is complete.

Though, after these three days I’m getting over it–phew!

Some guy stopped by today, a communications/public speaker student trying to get names or something that would result in his being rewarded $10,000 toward his future career (opening a coffee house in Morgantown, WV, called Cool Beans–which I LOVE. One of my favorite phrases EVER). He was asking us questions like what our names were, our majors, and what careers we were pursuing, and then told us that he himself was trying to be a Chip ‘n Dale dancer.

I sort of froze and stared at him for about ten seconds because I was too caught up to break into insane laughter. Just to show you how much of an utter Supernatural fan I am, his proclamation of hoping to become a Chip ‘n Dale dancer immediately brought the Supernatural blooper to mind, where Dean knocks on the door and both of the brothers are in priest attire with cut-off sleeves and he says, “Hi, we’re Chip ‘n Dale dancers and we just moved into the neighborhood.”

Cracks me up, man.

—

Parents, philosophizing again

Dad pretty much moved back into the house, the day I moved out haha! The parents are on somewhat of an upward reconciliation climb with a three month trial period. After hoping for what seemed like months in what actually only encompassed a couple of horrid days or almost a terrible set of weeks, I still wonder if that’s best. But I don’t know what’s going through their heads.

Dad keeps telling me he’s glad I was there, and that’s very heart-warming, considering the horrible state he was in, but I feel like it’s weird that he’s thanking me. Not just because he’s given me so much, but because where else would I be? And we were out at dinner together with Mom and she said that it’s because my love for them is unconditional.

I found that odd and sort of surprising.

I wonder if that’s what it is. Frank found the entire thing unforgivable and stands by that, but that’s been a long time coming, however sad that is to the rest of us. To me, I feel as if it wasn’t my affair, really, not against me personally (even if I was sad on Mom’s part), but after seeing them kind of reconcile, I don’t know that I’d forgive a second time, based on my own principles. I’d still be there, I know I would, but there would be a part of me that would look at him as if he was different. If I’d known about the first time, or if there was a second one before even this one, I may have felt that way now, but it was new to me, and is new to me still, and oh, I don’t really know what I’m saying.

Though, if it had happened to me, I don’t think I could ever be forgiving. If someone does something or says something against me personally, I tend to hold it close–it’s not that I don’t forgive, because I do, I try to as much as possible because I hate being angry, it just makes me sad…it’s just that I don’t forget.

And thinking about it, I don’t know how common unconditional really is, and that makes me a bit sad. How long can how you feel about someone stay unconditional? Is it a three strikes and your out kind of deal? Does it become a shame on you sort of thing after a while? I guess not, because then that would contradict the word, right?

Is there really unconditional out there?

I feel like that’s the important kind, and I wonder how many people find that. I guess you only know if it’s been tried and turns out true.

—

Anyway. Has been a very relaxing week thus far–have been trying to keep on track as far as exercising each day, and I’m happy to say that so far, I’m a bit more than two weeks strong on that count!

Have awful writers’ block. Haven’t completed a story since…last fall for Creative Writing: Fiction. Probably won’t complete one again until next semester, when I hopefully am able to take Creative Writing: Non-fiction and Advanced Fiction. I wish I’d been able to take one this fall, but unfortunately both classes conflicted with a required lab I need for my major.

Blogging helps I guess. Wish I could finish something! My Tidbits file is 33 pages long now. All mini-ideas, plot-bunnies that never turn into rabbits that I can pull out of a hat and magically produce a complete story with, a bunch of characters that sometimes seem to have a common trait or theme…

I was taking to Stu about my type of character last year some time and he said that he could see it, could tell that’s the kind of character I’d create because it’s the kind I like. We were talking about how some people write their characters with their own traits, and I thought I didn’t do that, and he pointed out that no, but I seemed to write characters with traits that I liked in other people.

Interesting, that.

Anyway, maybe I’ll sit down one night and force myself to finish something as if I have a deadline–that’s usually the only way things get done. That, and by penning it into my planner. I should get one of those soon.

My last one ran out of days. I just have tons of electronic post-its on my desktop and lining my desk. They keep me company.

A lot has happened since Tito Chad passed away, most of it not good, but I still hold that same faith I felt when my uncle passed on.

My Mom’s saying of the past week or so has been “everything happens for a reason.” Well, after these several days, I believe it.

Before Tito Chad became ill and was taken to the hospital late Friday night, three of his five siblings had been out of town. My mom and the rest of us were in the Philippines and Kauai, Tita Carisse and my uncle were in Texas for business, and Tita Rita and her family were in NC.

All of us arrived back on Friday. The family keep saying that Tito Chad was waiting for all of us to be together.

Also, Tito Jondi commented on how the family has been trying to get Tito Chad here for two years, and after finally accomplishing that goal, they attempted to get a caretaker for him, but to no avail. Tito Jondi said that it was interesting how they’d been worrying over who’d take care of him, his insurance, and all of that, but never his passing. It’s as if the need for a caretaker was never fulfilled for a reason now.

My mom also told me that it seemed to work out for the best–the situations surrounding my uncle’s passing anyway. My grandpa passed away a couple of years ago, and Mom said that my grandma and the rest of the family couldn’t have handled both my grandpa’s sickness/passing and getting my uncle over and his passing at the same time. We got my uncle here maybe less than a year after my grandpa passed away.

That just made me think of that quote that says: people are never given more than they can handle. I’m just thinking that sometimes, maybe you just can’t see it until later.

(Note: I’m separating the next post “faith” from this one because I don’t like this sad post being the first one on my blog’s page. This will just be a continuation.)

Lastly (at least as far as I can tell), and I’m wondering about this one, this happened for my Mom.

…

This past Saturday morning was my uncle’s funeral. My brother and I woke to my mom’s raised voice (which is an event within itself), and a bit after her Incredible Hulk action (her words), my dad left the house. He was kicked out, really. My mom wants a separation, because she told me that under VA state law, a couple can’t get divorced unless they’ve been separated for one year. Anyway, my dad packed and left and we went to the funeral.

It was a very nice mass–my mom and her siblings and the kids sang; they sing in the church choir (they’re a family of singers), and it was beautiful. I read from the Book of Wisdom, a passage that my grandma chose that was wonderful, stumbled over a line but overall it was all right.

It was awkward though when Tito Jondi (who spoke the wonderful eulogy; sad but uplifting at once) mentioned Dad among the rest of the family in thanks–for his understanding and for letting Mom spend so much time on weekends with my uncle. And afterwards everyone was asking where Dad was (they all like him so much and hanging out with him). That was awkward because what were we supposed to say? I stuck with saying, “I’m not sure.”

The short proceeding at the cemetery was nice too–it was a gorgeous sunny day (though it rained in the morning while we were at the mass), and after the priest was done with his part, the Ataneans (a high school and college that a lot of my mom’s family went to; all her siblings and herself, and a lot of the family friends) sang the Ataneo fight song. That was just a great way to end the goodbye–with a cheer. They all sang and it was just uplifting, especially on such a pretty day.

It has been almost four days since my dad left the house.

I visited him on Sunday at my grandma’s where he was staying, and he was so overwrought with guilt and sadness and a horrible desperation that was just too hard to handle, really. He is a very focused person; his mind wanders a lot and he has a short attention span, but when he thinks of things, he thinks and think and thinks. He cried at certain points when we were talking and it was just so hard to see. I’ve only ever seen him cry twice, at least that I can remember: when his dad passed away and when I went off to college. I text him a lot too just to check up on him, and what he says in conversation and what he said in his texts were much the same: that he can’t think about anything else, he couldn’t stand staying at my Lola’s, missed home so much, is so sad he hurt everyone, he can’t sleep, he can’t eat–he’s losing weight and gets dizzy sometimes.

Mom hates the night time and we talked for a while last night–she has trouble sleeping too, she’s very hurt, she misses him and just loves him so much, and seeing her cry or try to hold it back with a choked voice is just so hard. She says she’s afraid of being alone, and that just makes me so sad. And she’s the kindest and most empathetic person I know. She worries about my dad even though he’s the one that hurt her, but it just makes her sadder. And she’s also so fair. She lets him come hang out in the house when she’s at work or when she’s sleeping–I hang out with him, and she supports that 100%. She said it best: we’re here living as we always do, but he’s wandering around stuck in limbo. He’s not staying at the house, but at my grandmas, and he hates staying at other people’s places–he has a stigma about his own home and his own things. So it’s especially hard for him, even though he is at fault.

Part of me thinks they should separate, but seeing them both like this just makes me want them both to get back together because it seems like it’ll make things better. Maybe they’ll change and be better after this; maybe this has taught them something. I don’t know what’s best–my brain thinks it knows, but I don’t think you can only trust one thing.

I cried a lot these past few days, but really I think I’m ok. I just feel so bad for Dad, for my brother who has cut himself off from my dad (he’s just so filled with anger and hate that it hurts to see and hear him speak about it; though they’ve always had a rather rough/not good relationship), and for Mom of course.

It’s hard because things have changed and will be different and may always be changed and never the same. It was so hard these past few days because I was the only one speaking to my Dad. He’s at fault, but I love him and won’t ever not be there. But it was just so hard because I was the only one speaking to him; he told/tells me things, and I just feel like there’s no one else I can tell them to–Mom is hurt, Frank is angry, and who else is there to talk to about these things? I’m not saying others should care, just that I feel sort of at a dead end about this stuff.

My mom did speak with him on the phone today, which has lightened the load though. And Dad didn’t call me until around 4pm (he went to work, but I expected him to call earlier because he said he wanted to come by the house while Mom was still at work and just hang out), and the first thing he said was, “I’m happy; your Mom talked to me today.” And that was nice.

It sucks though because I’m leaving for school next weekend, and I want to be here for both of them.

I don’t know what’s going to happen. Tomorrow my parents are going to church together. Dad has so much hope that Mom will let him come home tomorrow; he’s hoping to take her to the Kenny Rankin lounge concert on Thursday night, but I don’t know about Mom. Her view the entire time has been that she’s keeping to a decision, and she seems to think this is the best way to go, for both of them. I wanted to tell Dad to not keep his hopes up, but he said that he felt better and might be able to sleep tonight.

I have hopes about things, but I don’t know what’s best.

I never really thought about the emotional part of a divorce (from what I’ve seen on TV or from my friends’ parents’ divorces/separations). I never thought about how much everyone in the family is hurt by it. I just thought, that sucks for the kids because they’ll have to split time, the parents will have to split everything…but I didn’t think about how it really is just a complete separation of something that was once whole.

I think it’ll end up ok though, no matter what happens. It has to get better just because there is just really nowhere else for everything to go but up, which is cheesy maybe, but there’s no other way around that I think. It’s hard to see the good stuff though, when it’s been so hard, but it’s the only thing I can keep my eye on right now because the rest of it isn’t so nice to look at.

…

Anyway, the reason I say this is a joint matter in the whole faith subject above is because my grandma now no longer has Tito Chad to sit with all day, and Mom now has some free time to hang out with her–Mom likes to. They can keep each other company.

I don’t know. This is all very confusing.

…

Venting is good.