porch swing

you know sometimes i get pretty down on, like, everything. i was trying to write today, about africa, and all that came out was what usually comes out which is an extended description of how mean and terrible i am. it’s weird and makes no sense to anyone else probably that that is what i write when i get into the whole africa situation but i guess, i don’t know. i was reading the journals i wrote when i was there yesterday and i think there are two things of note: 1. whenever i read those journals i am reminded that i was/probably still am a very silly adolescent girl. i went to africa basically out of petulance and it turned out to be this mind blowing experience that while i was experiencing i sort of ignored and focused instead on making out with boys. in a serious and immoral like sort of quasi-dating different dudes all sort of associated with my host family way. i made out with people’s brothers, cousins and those guys’ best friends. jesus. which brings me to 2. i feel like i went for pathetic childish reasons and most of the time was there i acted like a pathetic child (after finally giving in to making out with a cousin of the family i wrote: “his lips are like limp spaghetti and he can’t even speak english that well”). however going to africa is like this huge huge thing that i am still learning from i think. i know that while i was there i was terrified and homesick and in this intense survival-denial mode for 8 months. i just don’t know how to reconcile the character of me there with who i really was with the character of me now with who i really am with the fact that besides genes and the rest of my life, those 8 months sort of define me. what is weird that i am wondering today is: do they define me as a bad guy? was i a bad guy? am i a bad guy?

which is not what i started out wanting to say. what i started out wanting to say is the other day pete and i were skateboarding around in the sun. we went to whiz burger and got fries and a milk shake. and it wasn’t like the most perfect moment or the most beautiful day. in fact i felt a little bit irritable, peevish or impatient like i often do. but then i was thinking, damn, i should get over that like now. i can do almost whatever i want. i am 26 and i get to skateboard in the sun. with my best friend. without getting shot at. there are people who love me in a few different states. jesus. get over it lizzy.

i mean, pete likes country music. give me a break.

it’s hard to have enough perspective at all times though, you know? when i was in africa, in my journal, i make precise calculations of how long i have left almost every day. i diagrammed my house and drew my family so i wouldn’t forget home. i wrote about kissing the washing machine. a month or so after i came home however, i wrote this in my journal: “my parents are nice enough i guess but that is because they don’t have a choice.”

give me a break times two.

but you know what? and i am sorry for all those people who i like who love LOVED this movie, but i think what the bleep do we know is kind of crap. it’s that ramtha channel person. sorry. she’s wearing a wig and channeling a god she made up. she’s from tacoma. which doesn’t make sense in any sort of context but we watched that last night.

and that’s what i have to say right now. perspective. how can you possibly keep it all times? does anyone have a job for me?