so we've had our last hoorah here in minnesota. we've said our goodbyes, and it's about time for us to be moving on. i'm so, so ready to be going. there's a lot more to do though. we have a bunch of trash that has been building up for a while (we don't have trash pickup) and micheal's sister refuses to do anything about it. micheal was going to shell out the cash at a pay dump, but they were closed. this sets us back a lot. we need to get rid of the trash before we leave so we can't pack anything into the truck until the trash is gone. we're probably going to take it to a dumpster after dark. i really wish we could have started put everything in there earlier. i get so stressed and emotional when it's down to the line like this.

the party last night went well. nothing seems stolen. i can't wait to be on the road. i don't really want to see anyone else again before we leave. goodbyes can be long, drawn out processes, and they really take a toll on me. i've said what i've had to say (i suppose) and i don't want to leave anybody with an impression of me that they don't already have. if that makes any sense.

i won't have internet for a while. i'll write soon.

after my last post i went to the library like i said i would. at around 4:00 micheal showed up with a grim look on his face. i was exceptionally excited to see him because i didn't know he would come and find me there. he asked if we could go right away so i put the book back and walked with him to his car. you know how sometimes you get that feeling in your gut like something is wrong, that swimming, swishing feeling. and sometimes you know, without question, just what the problem is. micheal didn't have to tell me that he had read my journal, because i already felt it. i don't write the things i do to hurt people. i write them to get the bad feelings out. that's why they're secrets. i do not think i've ever hurt someone more than micheal was that day. but what could i do but say, "yes, i wrote that." "yes, i feel that way sometimes." we managed to work through that day better than you probably would imagine. he'll never forget what those pages said. he told me that.

we went to a fiesta on saturday with jose and florencio, and we brought some other gringos with us. julia, ben, and tynan to be exact. after getting sufficiently drunk there, and dealing with quite a few awkward, angry glances from the other guests, we came back to the house. we picked up two more cases of beer and were ready to keep the night going. unfortunately someone took it upon themselves to invite more guests. i wasn't pleased, nor was micheal. later in the night two friends karina, and julia actually tried to steal some beer. i kindly asked for it back and i think i did a good job of both keeping my composure, and embarrassing them. someone also rummaged through some boxes in the living room, and while nothing seems to be stolen it's still pretty rude. at some point in the night someone actually went upstairs and stole some stems from us. put all of this together and you have one very livid micheal.

we've packed some. the house is basically bare with the exception of some boxes. amy is gone and i am free to roam the house as i please now. her overbearing presence no longer haunts these halls. i'm excited to be going soon. we are throwing a party tomorrow night even considering what happened on saturday. hopefully by then everything will be packed and away, so they won't be anything for anybody to steal. tynan is on his way over now and we're going to make brownies so i need to go and quickly, quickly clean the kitchen.

things have been moving kind of rapidly recently. just when i don't want them to. the stress of getting everything set up in tennessee is making me a mad woman. i'm surprised people still want to talk to me. i've just been a mopey wretch. micheal and i got in a big fight on tuesday. it's hard being in a relationship with someone who is bi-polar. i like to push people's buttons too much, and he just cannot handle it. honestly, it's very scary.

Here's some excerpts of the things i wrote that night:

'i'm thinking about all of the things i don't want to think about. i wrote a letter to jonathan in my head, but now that i think about it the names jon and will are interchangeable.

Dear Jonathan/Will,
I don't want to be alive. I fucked up Jon/Will. Dropped out of school, made my family hate me, and for an asshole. You were so nice to me. Why am I this way?'

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'she didn't know what it was like for a man to hit her, she didn't want to know, but honestly he might as well have. she had travelled miles to be there now. what a waste. in debt for a man who she didn't want to share a bed with. a man who slept when she wanted him to stay awake, and stayed awake when she wanted him to sleep. a man who hated driving with the windows down.'

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And this is where i say 'i was just overreacting' but i'm not so sure. one thing should be known about me is that, when i get sad, i get really sad. i do overreact, but there must be some truth in what i wrote that night. i know that i mean all of those things that i "wrote" to jon/will. i was awful to them. and i'm awful to micheal too. i generally disregard his disorder, and end up hating myself for it. i'm just way too stubborn to ever say it out loud. anyway, we had a really good day yesterday. it's like they say, 'one day at a time'. i mustn't be rash in my decisions about or with micheal. let's just hope i can always remember that. i don't want to regret anything else in my life.

we were supposed to dose tonight, but it probably won't happen now. some problems with where we were going to do it. i was really looking forward to it. to really understanding micheal's thought processes, if only for a few hours. it's for the best though. we really can't afford luxuries such as that right now. we need gas money. speaking of gas, i have a slightly funny story. micheal and i were driving to target yesterday and we were stopped at an intersection when micheal noticed the gas station across the street. "holy shit! gas is so cheap! $3.87! i've got to get over there before it changes!" I thought he was going to have a heart attack he was so jittery. it was the first time in months that he actually filled his tank.

my mother is currently not talking to me. she read that short story i wrote in the last post, about my brother. she said i was trying to force my brother down the same path i chose. that i don't need to worry about him because she's taking care of him and i need to just leave him alone. my brother is my best friend. i want only for him to make the decisions that he thinks are right. my mom is sending him to military school. i miss him more than i've ever missed anyone. why can' she understand that? i don't think that my story was written in anyway that would suggest pushing him down "the wrong path".

the only solace i've found recently has been the library. i spent the day there yesterday reading an old favorite. the weather today didn't seem to permit the long walk down there, but it seems to be clearing up. this whole post has basically been a rant, but a necessary one. i needed to get this all out. and i don't think anyone actually reads this, but maybe they do. i just need someone, anyone to talk to. even if it's an electronic journal.

Originally I thought that Minnesota was a god forsaken land, with cold, unforgiving weather, and completely lacking in any fun. As the weather here began to warm (slowly, there was still snow in April), and people began to return from college, my feelings for the place have brightened. What I'm really tying to say is that this weekend was a memorable one. Friday night offered up a spectacular party. Micheal and I have been pretty reclusive lately and it was time for us to see everybody again, and we did. So many people turned out and the performances were good. There were $1 beers so between me and Micheal we spent about $12. However later into the night I was given free beer from several different people, as well as whiskey, and rum. Someone also offered me scotch, but I didn't think my stomach could handle it. The rum and whiskey was from Claire. Some of the free beers were from my favorite lesbian couple J&B, who were also gracious enough to offer M and I a place to sleep. We tried to have sex on their couch, but got mad at each other for something and, instead, ended up listening to them have sex for hours. The next morning we snuck out quietly, remembering that we had promised to go with them to Duluth. Things just seem more plausible when you've been drinking. Duluth was just not plausible when we were sober.

When M and I went outside to look for my shoes we found much more than just that. We stumbled upon a pack of cigarettes, $5, and a sneak-a-hit piece. When we got home we realized the piece had probably never been cleaned out, because we cleared it out of nearly three bowls of resin. It's nice to know that we two do have some good luck after all.

After that very long Friday night we hadn't planned on doing anything Saturday, but Jose called us with a guilt trip, "Come on man, you're leaving in two weeks. I'll never see you again." So we went over there promising to each other we wouldn't stay for very long. Well, we did. Florencio ended up coming over with his brother and he was already very drunk. Drinking away a broken heart it seems. He told me he broke up with Rebecca this weekend. She's going to be away for ten months and he said he couldn't wait, he would be too jealous. Then he told me he cried and his brother just held him. I was really glad he said that. I know it's important in Mexican culture to be a man, and crying is not considered very manly. Micheal and I were so busy in our conversations and being wasted that we didn't notice when Jose's roommate blocked us into the driveway and then went to bed. We ended up there until 4:15 when Jose finally gave a us a ride home. We smoked with him that night, and he told us it was his first time. He was being absolutely ridiculous. Crawling around on the ground, hugging plants. We left that night with another invitation to a baptism party next weekend at white bear lake.

Sunday was a day of rest. Amy spent the day packing and cleaning. Her persistence and our lack of it is obvious. She probably just thinks we're lazy stoners which, I mean, we are, but it's more than that. I've already packed all of my winter clothing and the few knick-knacks that I have. I moved in here with two suitcases and that's still all I have. It's easier for me because I have less stuff. Micheal just has to wait until the last minute. He just needs to do things that way. It's driving me crazy too. I know it will be the day before we move and he'll be begging me to help him pack. All of Amy's commotion, though, just adds to the sow realization that we're finally doing it. I'm so excited to go to TN, but after this weekend I realized just how much I'm going to miss everyone here.

I wrote this today:

they were so young together once. imagining their grandparents swing set to be atop boiling lava. having to make it across to safety without touching the ground. overcoming every obstacle as it came to them. but he, he always had trouble at the monkey bars. always trouble with those damned monkey bars. and she, she would go back. sacrificing herself to the lava to grab his legs and hold him while his little arms reached and strained. after that he is invincible as he whispers a quick, "thanks" and she watches as he makes his way easily to the top of the slide and declares his victory over it.

now she watches him from a distance. 1000 miles. and it is hard, for both of them. kindred torn apart by her constant suffering and need to get away. he doesn't understand yet, but he is starting to. he begins to feel it the way that she did. the claustrophobia that you can only feel in that city. now they both climb and stumble over their own obstacles. separate from one another, unable to help. and she watches through hazy, dilated eyes as he must pick himself back up. mannish arms straining, reaching for that next bar.

and did this too:

So Micheal stop by the house during his lunch break today. He was covered from head to toe in pigment. Is it strange that I found it kind of sexy. See I actually think it's a good thing that I want to have sex him when he's covered like that. I feel bad for him, though, that he has to work where he does. I know he hates it, he tells me everyday, but it pays so well. His description of his work is along the lines of this, "Not only do you feel like shit, but you're covered in it, and it's just a constant reminder of how shitty everything is in general." I'm glad that he'll be done with this job in less than two weeks. I really want to believe that once we move everything will just get better for us. Not just relationship-wise, but singularly too. Micheal will hopefully feel back in his element being with his friends and family again. He's told me before that he's just not himself when he's here. I can understand that.

On a lighter note, we are going to a party tonight. It's at a friends house in Minneapolis. They hosting another show there. Probably a bunch of bands I have no interest in seeing. Honestly, does anyone have good taste in music anymore. There's only so many singer-songwriter, acoustic guitar acts I can handle. And I'm sorry to say this, but really, punk is dead. It died as soon as someone said they were a punk. Don't get me wrong, I like old punk, but not this mashed up screamo shit. I just hope it's not totally lame. Micheal and I are planning to bring our own beer because, due to our previous experience at this house, the beer goes pretty quickly. We're also bringing along our friends Florencio and Jose. They both worked with Micheal at some point and are generally cool people. I love talking to them about their culture. It is so very different from ours, and I wish more people would take the time to learn about things like that. It's also Jose's birthday so we should have a good time, we almost always do.

When I think about partying I am once again reminded that I am now only a shadow of my former self. Since being here I have become reclusive. I hate it, but there are not many people here who I actually want to make effort to hang out with. Some of the people here are exceptionally cool, but that's one or two, and they always insist on bringing a posse wherever they go. I also cannot help but recognize how much younger they are then me. Not necessarily in years, but mentally, emotionally. They just seem like little kids sometimes. At home I used to party, a lot. In Tennessee I partied even more. Some of the things I've seen would blow this kids' minds. They're still so naive, and I sometimes feel guilty about thinking these things about them. I sometimes try to excuse their behavior to Micheal saying, "Their fun, it's real to them. We should envy them really." But I don't envy them at all. And once again I am ending this feeling like a pretentious bitch.

I woke up late again today. I hate that I have fallen back into my faulty circadian rhythm. I'm back to where I'm always going back to. Lethargy. Laziness. I managed to put some wash in the dryer.

Micheal's sister, I have found, has a livejournal. Some of which is dedicated, none too fondly, to me. It was wrought with details that I would've never expected from her. Nearing raw emotion. She wrote of love, sex, anxiety, stress. Everything I would have never known about her. However, it was hard for me to appreciate this deep plunge into Amy's psyche when every few paragraphs were about how much she loathes my existence. I know it had to have been hard on Amy when I moved in here. I would feel violated, but she never made an attempt to speak with me. In fact she has ignored me fully for five months. But what she writes tells it differently. I do find it a shame that she dislikes me so vehemently. Since I started living here in February I have tried to keep a low profile. Not getting in Amy's way, not making too much noise, giving her space. Apparently that has been a problem. She writes how my unwillingness to go to the bank with her and Micheal was "unforgivable". Really? She even went so far as to call me stupid. How can you gauge whether a person is stupid if you've never even spoken to them. But Amy feels the way she feels, and quite honestly I can't wait to be rid of her. We move on the 31st. Amy, she's moving out the 26th so we'll actually have the house to ourselves for a few days. Possibly a goodbye. However much I protested the people here at first, I have grown attached to them in some way. They are in no way comparable to my friends back home, but they're good in their own ways. Some of them I will always remember.

Speaking of home, I'm going there. On August 5, five days after we move to Tennessee, I'm taking a bus home to Philadelphia for a week. I already know I'm going to be swamped down with family obligations. One of which includes visiting my grandparents and surprising them with my return. And another, less appealing, obligation has me attending my sisters 12th birthday bbq which would be fine, if my mother didn't insist on inviting my ex and his friends to every function. It seems strange, but it's merely her pleasure from my pain. What is strange though is that Kyle, my ex, and his friends actually show up to these functions. I will never understand him, or her.

But back to today. Claire came over with a movie she checked out from the library. A french film called "Eyes Without a Face". It was really good, but I couldn't focus on it so much. I kept thinking about how Claire used to seem pretty to me, but doesn't now. I know her too well now, and it's not very much at all. I'm not sure if I ever really wanted to be friends with Claire. I think it was actually the fact that she was Micheal's ex that made me seek her out. I wanted to be everything that she wasn't. She once told me that I was. She also once told me she wanted to hate me. I know it's cruel, but I do things like that. A lot sometimes. I honestly think I do not want to be friends with Claire and I hate myself for thinking it.