Post 1

I wasn’t sure that I would sit and write again, but here I am. The last post I wrote, I wrote last night, and everything seems more reasonable and realistic when you are lying down on you bed before you sleep. Then you wake up to think “what was I thinking?”. There is actually a term for that because it’s actually a condition that relates to rationality, but I don’t remember it right now. Maybe if we did do the unreaonsle thngs that we thought at night, then we would have less things to regret. I always seem to think of bold goals that I want to achieve, and then always wake up too chicken to pursue them.

I am actually enjoying this blog thing, I found my self sitting on the subway, and in my financial accounting class thinking of the things I could write on this blog. I try to think of all the crazy things I’ve done in my life, from my Greek adventures, to my forest hikes for just one cigarette. I kind of worry that people I know, like my mother, will read this, but she probably wouldn’t even read it if I sent the link to her everyday for a week or maybe she would. My mother is a strong, and cold woman, who can be warm and funny. She is a workaholic and a stress bomb so it’s hard to find her happy, and if she’s happy I don’t think I can tell. It is surprising how people hide their love for others and their feelings. My father is the complete opposite when it comes to emotions. Everytime I talk to him, he tells me plenty of times that he loves me, and misses me, and that I am his princess and everytime I leave when we see each other he cries like a baby. You should see my father, a tall and handsome 56 year old man, very tan, relatively well built with a growing dessert belly. It’s funny when I see him cry every time that I leave,  I never see him cry otherwise. Mind you, he is the same with my younger brother, who just turned 16 and is in the process of finding himself.

I think I am more like my mother than my father when it comes to showing emotions, at least towards them. I find it easy to tell my boyfriend and friends that I love them. When it comes to my parents, I can never tell them I love them, maybe because I love them more than anything in the world. I think my generation is throwing the word love around too much, don’t you? I do it much less now since I came to this realization, but I used to always tell my friends, and my friends always tell me “Bye babe, love ya.” or  “Talk to you later boo, love you.” or something of the sort. I think I do love some my friends and I do think I have friends that will know my grandchildren, but there are plenty of people who tell me they love when I know they don’t, and whom I say I love, when I know I don’t. I care about them, they care about me, we are friends, and like each other, but it’s not love, it’s not what I feel towards my family.

I am complicated. I wish I could tell my parents that I love them more often, and I wish my generation would throw less love around. I guess I go with what’s easier, I throw the word love around to people I don’t love, and I lie to them, and I keep the truth from my parents. I think the people I love, know that I love them.

Seriously, I am boring myself with what I am writing. I guess I am just trying to think of something else other than my fight with Ted (his name is not really Ted, but I guess blogs try to keep people anonymous.) But, I’ll talk about this fight later, when it’s resolved and I know everything is going to be okay.

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