tonight is my last night of my marathon port angeles vacation. tomorrow i am going with my mom and dad to seattle and then the next day i am flying back to sf. 2 days later i am meeting jade in mexico where i will stay until 1 day before i have to start back at school. there is my schedule so if you want to rob me, I’LL BE IN MEXICO BETWEEN THE 10th AND THE 22nd. but good luck finding my apartment and if you do, good luck getting past my ultra-tough roommates.
port angeles has a way of making me wish i were better than i am. or maybe it is my parents in port angeles that make me wish that. they lead these great, thoughtful lives in which evenings are spent reading books on gardening, cooking or politics. they go to bed at extremely reasonable hours so they can get up before work and go for a walk or go for a swim. BECAUSE THEY LIKE TO. they have jobs which directly benefit their community AND they don’t eat trans fats and not only that, they aren’t preachy about either of these things. in fact they aren’t preachy at all.
there used to be things about my parents that annoyed me: my mom would bring up personal details of my life at the wrong time and my dad would start hyperventilating if i left some art project out in the middle of the floor when it was not quite completed. but my mom didn’t say 1 horribly embarrasing thing about me all through christmas and when i left my screen printing in the middle of the kitchen for almost 2 days, my dad stepped over it without saying a single word.
my parents are perfect.
i know that this is sort of a lame thing to say in many, many ways. first of all, obviously they aren’t perfect. second of all, it’s really buster bluth to admit that you like you parents (okay, in his case, want to make out with your mom). really it sounds like i’m in some sort of “uh uh, santa clause does SO exist” denial.
but whatever. it’s true.
sadly their goodness does not seem to be genetic so for the past week i’ve been feeding my love of lawlessness by watching season two of deadwood. every day i become more and more aware that the place i really belong is the wild west. i can’t decide who i’d rather be: trixie the whore or the widow garrett. either way i think i would be perfect at kicking my addiction to laudnaum and staring with steely eyes at the man i loved but could not necessarily have, whether he was the jew or the sheriff. both of them are hot and nobody ever has to take a shower.
when i get home a solemly swear to post some pictures, okay? trust me! i will!