Lemonade

I really, truly hate them sometimes... destroying every little bit of peace that I try to create in this house, and I just exploded today. Gladly enough, Mom was around to see, and finally came to her wits and told them they have to move out. I'm so ready to live somewhere again where I'm not battling with everyone around me.

Existence, well what does it matter?

I exist on the best terms I can.

The past is now part of my future,

the present is well out of hand.

[Ian Curtis]

The cold has hindered me from riding my bicycle and getting out of the house lately, but I hear that it is supposed to clear up by tomorrow. I'm definitely ready for Spring to begin and to be happy again. It's sort of difficult when most of the people around you are self-centered battlers until the end. I'm thankful that I've had Matthew around through this shit, and the knowledge that Dan will be coming soon. I'd lose my head without them, I think.
Since I left Providence, most of my uncertainty about life has also left. I had this lurking feeling that I was not doing the right thing, that every step on every little crack was going to break my Mother's back. Always. Not any more. I am no longer so fearful about how I'm living my life; I'm free, and hopeful.
Behind every light; however, is a shadow to accompany it. My cousin, Alex, just passed away a few days ago. He's been sick for quite awhile and has had MS his entire life. I really hope that Death doesn't pass the Domino Effect on my family, like I've seen in so many others. I'm not afraid of dying myself. I'm not afraid of dealing with Death. I'm afraid of what it is going to do to my fragile family that is already in pieces, each and every one of us, from other Unspeakable Facts of Life.



All of the talking about food that Thom Cat and I did in P-rov has finally opened my eyes up to how much happiness I can bring somebody with just a little bit of time in the Kitchen. I'm definitely addicted to baking at this point, and I've been spending way too much time on the internet looking at recipes. I need to get a fucking cookbook. Whenever Danbaery comes to visit on Hitler's birthday, I'm going to cook until my eyes pop out, I really can't wait. He ate up all of the cookies I made for him for his birthday in about a day and a half. I don't know if I've ever boasted about anything before, but I'm going to keep working on these recipes until I have something to boast about.

• Speaking of Thom Cat-- I wanted so much to go to his house and bake bread, but like I said, the weather was ill-permitting. It would be so fun though. Baking parties are definitely the best idea that I've heard of in a long time. Also, I have a premonition (maybe it is just a hope) that there will be many, many campfires this summer in Sarah's back yard and our Spot in the woods near Superior Street.
  
• Speaking of Danbaery-- I can't say anything except thank You, thank You, thank You [to the Universe.]
  

I'm reading the Beautiful and Damned again, and I feel that this insert could accurately describe life right now

Silence crept down again over the wet country; the faint dripping resumed, and suddenly a great shower of drops tumbled upon Gloria stirring her out of the trance-like torpor which the passage of the train had wrought. She ran swiftly down a descending level to the bank and began climbing the iron stairway to the bridge, remembering that it was something she had always wanted to do, and that she would have the added excitement of traversing the yard-wide plank that ran beside the tracks over the river.
There! This was better. She was at the top now and could see the lands about her as successive sweeps of open country, cold under the moon, coarsely patched and seamed with thin rows and heavy clumps of trees. To her right, half a mile down the river, which trailed away behind the light like the shiny, slimy path of a snail, winked the scattered lights of Marietta. Not two hundred yards away at the end of the bridge squatted the station, marked by a sullen lantern. The oppression was lifted now—the tree-tops below her were rocking the young starlight to a haunted doze. She stretched out her arms with a gesture of freedom. This was what she had wanted, to stand alone where it was high and cool.

[F. Scott Fitzgerald]