I can has come home now?
Please?
Monday, July 30, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Friday, July 27, 2012
Backspace
This was a day I've been dreaming about for years.
I remember those crisp, cool green sheets... turned stuffy and damp as hot tears of fright flowed out of me, Avril Lavigne's serenades my only friend or comfort. I remember that summer when the world was screaming at me to come outside, to talk to someone--be a normal 12 year old. I also remember the endless sea of lies and excuses that I cried for myself, so that I would always have a way to avoid the world and anyone in it that didn't feel like home.
All I wanted was to go back. And quickly, too, before we were too late and people made inside jokes without me. Maybe they'd even be about me.
I remember staring out those windows full of lights, hating everything--the sounds, the scents, the patterns. I could feel some little part of me trying desperately to jump. I still don't know if it was a jump for suicide, or freedom.
I dreamed of coming back to them. Of being remembered... fixing things before they were neglected for too long.
My dream came true.
But then I remember the days when things slowly started to feel like home again. When faces were home. When I developed a "ushe," both at restaurants and for my weekend plans. I remember crying for the first time over a boy... but I remember laughing for the first time because of one, too. Those nights that taught me exactly what I will become, and yet exactly what I can't become. Making secrets for myself so that I could have some to tell, getting caught in the net they tangled, and then cutting my way out, much stronger than I was before that mess. I remember what it felt like to morph into a thespian... slowly, over time, with strenuous effort going into every step of the way. The wind in my face and the jump in my heart as I jumped into the ocean for the first time. Counting freckles and sins, unable to decide if I wanted them blemishing me or if I should avoid them. Making another best friend all the way from scratch... because the more work that gets put into them, the sweeter they seem to be.
Erased. I had a clean slate... time traveled to back then, back when I first learned how to love my surroundings. Granted, it was only for a day. A day to visit the past. People say be careful what you wish for. And while going back was in no way permanent, it was frightening--as if all of that foreverness could really be erased.
I put so much work into it. Into myself. I was just plain miserable sometimes, but I worked for those happy moments--I worked on growing as a person.
And now suddenly back then seems like yesterday, and today seems like an eternity.
Time is such a relative thing.
I remember those crisp, cool green sheets... turned stuffy and damp as hot tears of fright flowed out of me, Avril Lavigne's serenades my only friend or comfort. I remember that summer when the world was screaming at me to come outside, to talk to someone--be a normal 12 year old. I also remember the endless sea of lies and excuses that I cried for myself, so that I would always have a way to avoid the world and anyone in it that didn't feel like home.
All I wanted was to go back. And quickly, too, before we were too late and people made inside jokes without me. Maybe they'd even be about me.
I remember staring out those windows full of lights, hating everything--the sounds, the scents, the patterns. I could feel some little part of me trying desperately to jump. I still don't know if it was a jump for suicide, or freedom.
I dreamed of coming back to them. Of being remembered... fixing things before they were neglected for too long.
My dream came true.
But then I remember the days when things slowly started to feel like home again. When faces were home. When I developed a "ushe," both at restaurants and for my weekend plans. I remember crying for the first time over a boy... but I remember laughing for the first time because of one, too. Those nights that taught me exactly what I will become, and yet exactly what I can't become. Making secrets for myself so that I could have some to tell, getting caught in the net they tangled, and then cutting my way out, much stronger than I was before that mess. I remember what it felt like to morph into a thespian... slowly, over time, with strenuous effort going into every step of the way. The wind in my face and the jump in my heart as I jumped into the ocean for the first time. Counting freckles and sins, unable to decide if I wanted them blemishing me or if I should avoid them. Making another best friend all the way from scratch... because the more work that gets put into them, the sweeter they seem to be.
Suddenly everything vanished.
Erased. I had a clean slate... time traveled to back then, back when I first learned how to love my surroundings. Granted, it was only for a day. A day to visit the past. People say be careful what you wish for. And while going back was in no way permanent, it was frightening--as if all of that foreverness could really be erased.
I put so much work into it. Into myself. I was just plain miserable sometimes, but I worked for those happy moments--I worked on growing as a person.
And now suddenly back then seems like yesterday, and today seems like an eternity.
Time is such a relative thing.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
To Be a Fish...
I kinda feel like one right now. Maybe one like on Finding Nemo, where they got tied up in a plastic bag and dropped in the ocean. While I can see a lot more, flirt with the instinct that tells me this is where I really belong, I'm still trapped inside this bag. I am still forced to watch helplessly while others get eaten by sharks and barracudas, or perhaps even play around with one another, wondering when it will be my turn next.
I am glad I'm not really a fish in a bag in the ocean.
I am not having fun right now.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
(Possibly the last) Dear Abby,
Hey you.
Lover.
Twin.
Blogger buddy.
Partner in crime....
best friend.
Words could never do these past two years with you justice. Ever. But that won't stop me from trying. I am not good at saying good-bye. That is why I am going to write you this one, to make sure I get it right, even if I am about to go see you off at the airport.
It all started with a napkin. Not any special one in particular... for wiping purposes, it was actually quite flimsy. Horrible at its job.
But for writing notes between booths at Coco's Curry, it was just perfect.
We jotted down our thoughts and gossip about Patrick and jokes and witty banter with such excitement, such elated giggles, I never wanted the day to end. I knew there was something fantastic about this Abby Erdelatz... something that made me want to know her better.
Do you remember that first time we ate lunch together at school, and I convinced you and Alicia to go eat on the catwalk? We were stealing cookies and chicken nuggets, and shouting at the science kids to "Dance for us! Express the story of your people!!!" Apparently a ton of this year's seniors were in class in that building, but didn't recognize us, and were calling us dorks. I think they were just jealous they didn't think of it themselves.
The honor of being twins was one I could have never deserved. Wearing matching outfits, spontaneous coordinations, being called Abby and having people just come walking up to me as if I were you.
Far East Drama. Being room/bed buddies. I remember you tried to get me into my pajamas because it was late, and while I tried to fight you off, Bailey shoved a mango in my mouth. What an interesting way to find out I'm allergic to the things! I was secretly scared out of my wits when we went down that latter to... well... the floor below us ;) My favorite part was by far the window dancing. You know what we did.
I will tell you I was secretly envious out of my mind when you managed baseball and the team liked you. Though, thinking about it, I realize it would be ridiculous if they didn't. You are such a fantastic, lively, easy to talk to person.
Racing at Mihama. That sleepover full of secrets. Microwaved cookie dough. Whispering sweet nothings to your dog. Dancing around while doing the dishes. Oh! Ooooh! Ohh! .... Oh.... ohhh. That weird praying mantis pose thing we do. Swing dancing on the stage and everywhere. Naps on Deakins' couch. Comparing each other in the mirrors at the beach. Skipping/running through the halls of the 200's building, shouting "MAKE WAY, WE ARE FREE SPIRITS!!!" while crotchety old teachers tell us to slow down. Typhoon days. Typhoon nights. Microwaving cookies every single day together. Those moments where you'd defend my food against the predators we call friends more fiercely than even I would. Those couple times I came to common ground and clung to you for deal life. Relating stories about how awesome Olivia is to me. Sharing awesome hipster music. Venting my silly angers when I knew you were the only person who would always truly be there for me. Being the d and the ! in David! just so we could be next to each other. Kissing hand motions. Questions and lessons on the basics. That noodle gang we developed on a whim in the bathroom when we found that ramen in the sink and I tried to eat it (Pizza, pomegranates, or noodles?!?!). Shunning Mauryn because we thought she had betrayed the gang. Arguing over who would win in a fight (me). Happy dances after people tell us they read our blogs. My weird, geeky coder talk. Staying up late at night to make that album cover for the indie/folk band we developed for our gang that will probably never actually play music.
There is just too much, Abby. Too much we have experienced together... too much I want to experience with you. Too much I could have experienced with you.
Also, too much you have to experience without me.
I love you so much. This isn't easy for anyone, especially you, I know. But wouldn't it be fun, helping our kids put together little sets in the yard so that can perform plays for us? I can imagine us sitting together on lawn chairs, giggling wildly at the inside jokes we continue to develop even then, our husbands manning the grill, the little ones scampering around in the grass.
This is a visual I reserve for only the greatest of friends.
Though you're leaving, Okinawa is a place where, for those who deserve such to be true, people are never forgotten. They live on. They live on because of the adventures they had. They live on because of the growth they made. The tears they cried, the locals they interacted with, the oceans they swam in, the soba, curry, FamilyMart, and seemingly gross native foods they consumed. Through the tolls they pay on the express way, the stickypix taken at Dragon Palace, the CDs exchanged, and the friends they made, people are remembered. It's through little things... sometimes the wind imitates the laughter it has heard. Sometimes people will look at a place where you stood and, for a moment, they'll be able to see you there... they'll be able to feel you there with them.
Both Okinawa, and I, will never forget you.
Your forever lover/twin,
Corenne
Lover.
Twin.
Blogger buddy.
Partner in crime....
best friend.
Words could never do these past two years with you justice. Ever. But that won't stop me from trying. I am not good at saying good-bye. That is why I am going to write you this one, to make sure I get it right, even if I am about to go see you off at the airport.
It all started with a napkin. Not any special one in particular... for wiping purposes, it was actually quite flimsy. Horrible at its job.
But for writing notes between booths at Coco's Curry, it was just perfect.
We jotted down our thoughts and gossip about Patrick and jokes and witty banter with such excitement, such elated giggles, I never wanted the day to end. I knew there was something fantastic about this Abby Erdelatz... something that made me want to know her better.
Do you remember that first time we ate lunch together at school, and I convinced you and Alicia to go eat on the catwalk? We were stealing cookies and chicken nuggets, and shouting at the science kids to "Dance for us! Express the story of your people!!!" Apparently a ton of this year's seniors were in class in that building, but didn't recognize us, and were calling us dorks. I think they were just jealous they didn't think of it themselves.
The honor of being twins was one I could have never deserved. Wearing matching outfits, spontaneous coordinations, being called Abby and having people just come walking up to me as if I were you.
Far East Drama. Being room/bed buddies. I remember you tried to get me into my pajamas because it was late, and while I tried to fight you off, Bailey shoved a mango in my mouth. What an interesting way to find out I'm allergic to the things! I was secretly scared out of my wits when we went down that latter to... well... the floor below us ;) My favorite part was by far the window dancing. You know what we did.
I will tell you I was secretly envious out of my mind when you managed baseball and the team liked you. Though, thinking about it, I realize it would be ridiculous if they didn't. You are such a fantastic, lively, easy to talk to person.
Racing at Mihama. That sleepover full of secrets. Microwaved cookie dough. Whispering sweet nothings to your dog. Dancing around while doing the dishes. Oh! Ooooh! Ohh! .... Oh.... ohhh. That weird praying mantis pose thing we do. Swing dancing on the stage and everywhere. Naps on Deakins' couch. Comparing each other in the mirrors at the beach. Skipping/running through the halls of the 200's building, shouting "MAKE WAY, WE ARE FREE SPIRITS!!!" while crotchety old teachers tell us to slow down. Typhoon days. Typhoon nights. Microwaving cookies every single day together. Those moments where you'd defend my food against the predators we call friends more fiercely than even I would. Those couple times I came to common ground and clung to you for deal life. Relating stories about how awesome Olivia is to me. Sharing awesome hipster music. Venting my silly angers when I knew you were the only person who would always truly be there for me. Being the d and the ! in David! just so we could be next to each other. Kissing hand motions. Questions and lessons on the basics. That noodle gang we developed on a whim in the bathroom when we found that ramen in the sink and I tried to eat it (Pizza, pomegranates, or noodles?!?!). Shunning Mauryn because we thought she had betrayed the gang. Arguing over who would win in a fight (me). Happy dances after people tell us they read our blogs. My weird, geeky coder talk. Staying up late at night to make that album cover for the indie/folk band we developed for our gang that will probably never actually play music.
There is just too much, Abby. Too much we have experienced together... too much I want to experience with you. Too much I could have experienced with you.
Also, too much you have to experience without me.
I love you so much. This isn't easy for anyone, especially you, I know. But wouldn't it be fun, helping our kids put together little sets in the yard so that can perform plays for us? I can imagine us sitting together on lawn chairs, giggling wildly at the inside jokes we continue to develop even then, our husbands manning the grill, the little ones scampering around in the grass.
This is a visual I reserve for only the greatest of friends.
Though you're leaving, Okinawa is a place where, for those who deserve such to be true, people are never forgotten. They live on. They live on because of the adventures they had. They live on because of the growth they made. The tears they cried, the locals they interacted with, the oceans they swam in, the soba, curry, FamilyMart, and seemingly gross native foods they consumed. Through the tolls they pay on the express way, the stickypix taken at Dragon Palace, the CDs exchanged, and the friends they made, people are remembered. It's through little things... sometimes the wind imitates the laughter it has heard. Sometimes people will look at a place where you stood and, for a moment, they'll be able to see you there... they'll be able to feel you there with them.
Both Okinawa, and I, will never forget you.
Your forever lover/twin,
Corenne
Friday, July 13, 2012
Monday, July 9, 2012
The Door Closes
I feel like I just had a birthday party, but it's at that weird phase where one-by-one people start to trickle out, excusing themselves with other obligations and such things. Meaningless formalities, polite smiles, nervous laughter, and maybe even a hug or two are followed only by hollow spaces.
I'm left feeling more empty with every time somebody walks out that door.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Dear Abigail,
Thank you. Thank you for describing things to me today (hand motions included) that nobody else would. Thank you for the giraffe necklace. Thank you for taking me to the shoppette to buy ALL the things. Thank you for watching a somewhat creepy movie with me because we wanted to be scared, even if it was a far more terrifying experience for you. Since when am I the brave one in a relationship? Thank you for taking part in my first ever pillow fight. Thank you for getting your dog off of me in said pillow fight when he tried to make love to my leg. Thank you for feeding me delicious meat. Thank you for saving that gecko's life when I had no intentions of doing so. Thank you for those funky dance moves you performed for me while washing the dishes. Thank you for editing pictures with me so that we could make them into spontaneous album covers for our spontaneous folk/indie band.
Thank you for being my twin.
I Don't Think You Understand.
"Friend-zone," or no "friend-zone"
You're still the majority of what I think about. You still make my stomach turn to butterflies. You're still the one I wish I was spending time with right now.
This is just how it has to be right now. For lots of reasons.
Don't you have to be friends before you become best friends?
That's who I want "my person" to be. My best friend.
Honestly, the fact that I'm invested enough to wait is a big deal.
Who knows where we'll end up?
I sure don't.
You're still the majority of what I think about. You still make my stomach turn to butterflies. You're still the one I wish I was spending time with right now.
This is just how it has to be right now. For lots of reasons.
Don't you have to be friends before you become best friends?
That's who I want "my person" to be. My best friend.
Honestly, the fact that I'm invested enough to wait is a big deal.
Who knows where we'll end up?
I sure don't.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Are You Okay?
I wish you'd just open up to me. I mean I guess if you're not comfortable then I don't want to force you into anything... but I guess I wish you were comfortable enough, also. I can tell something's wrong. I pretty much know what it is.
But talking things out helps. No duh.
I'm here for you. Every fiber of my being wants to scream it into your eardrums--no, right into your brain--with the hope that perhaps you'll be able to understand that.
But I won't.
But talking things out helps. No duh.
I'm here for you. Every fiber of my being wants to scream it into your eardrums--no, right into your brain--with the hope that perhaps you'll be able to understand that.
But I won't.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
3 Rounds and a Sound
And the crisscross of what is true won't get to us
'Cause you know me-I could not give up on you...
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