I was going to make an entry about how I should be doing other things instead of making a deadjournal. Then I did the other things first, so now this could be about how it's 11:30 and I should go to bed, but I won't. Instead, I'll just write…
I spent seven+ hours in a car today. Omaha trips are fun… when they aren't to and back and involve my mother in one day. Argh. So today wasn't so hot, but I got a new pair of shoes in Sioux Falls and some sandals for prom.
(As a side note, I now have 11 pairs of shoes. This is an OGT. I'll let you figure that one out.)
Now, last Thursday and Friday on the other hand… WOW. Maren and me going to Omaha by ourselves. With me driving. There were some scary parts… (narrow road construction at 50mph, passing a schoolbus on a curve, swerving…), but hey, it was fun. Then we got to hang out with my lovely sister, Brandi. Or my lovely brander, Sisto. *poot*
We had fondue. Well, she had cheese fondue and I had gourmet macaroni and cheese in a delightful cheese broth… erk. Then we had a chocolate fondue for dessert. Wherein I chose banana bread, Maren, brownies, and Brandi, strawberries. (sentence patterns in action!). Oh wow… fudge brownies dipped in chocolate and… yeah. I gained a few pounds over “spring break.” (damn school!) After that we saw Anger Management. Maren used my sister's ID, upside down, to get into the show cheaper. *snicker*
As a movie, it was… eh.
“Who's that girl in that mirror there?”
“WHAT MIRROR? WHERE? OH GOOOOOOOOOOOD?!”
er…
I feel pretty?
Now Friday was truly the best part of the trip. We went to Lincoln. Teeeeeeheeeee.
Guess who I got to see and hang out with and adore?
That would be Andy, my boyfriend. He was wearing a bowler and had awesome pants on. He makes me stupid happy. Stupid happy people write in choppy sentences. Yes. They. Do.
Sometimes, for very special occasions, time slows down during the good parts and doesn't fly. We were only together for like three hours, but it seemed like several beautiful days. Lincoln is really a nice town. I should've decided to go to UNL. Damn time! I wish I could've met Andy a lot sooner. Oh well, I have him now. It just feels nice to be able to wake up and think, “hey, there's someone out there who loves me and doesn't have to!” It's just a lot of what I've wanted for a long long time. I've only had pseudo-relationships that haven't even counted before. (If they're seeing someone else, it doesn't count. Bastards.)
Ahh… Andy and I just walked around Lincoln and went into different stores and stuff. I wrote a lot about it in my private journal because hey, they were my moments, our moments. Little things to keep and cherish and know that they are mine and only mine.
The sad part about the relationship is that he lives roughly 5 hours away, and any excuse I have to visit Omaha will soon be flying out the window. I'll find a way, somehow!
So… on to other issues… Yeah. I'm gay. It's a part of me, it's something that's on my mind, and I hate that with how well I know and get along with my mom, I just can't tell her. Not yet at least. She's got some serious issues and some denial problems. Her attitude seems to be the “not in my house!” thing. At a dinner table discussion when I was in 7th or 8th grade (before I knew) we (mom, sister, dad) discussed the “what if chris was gay.” Someone (mom, dad?) said they'd disown me. Naturally, I was sitting at the table saying “i'm not gay!” like a broken record. That's got to create issues.
Then there's that other thing. Erk. She must know. It's just a matter of finding the right time. I wish I could tell her the real reason I'm sad sometimes and why I'm so happy other times. I wish I could tell her about Andy.
Some ideas for telling her are kind of… sick? That's not the right word.
There's the “hey mom, great meal, I'm gay!” approach. Or the “gotta go, see ya mom, I'm gay.” Or, “wow I'm so happy, I feel almost… gay.” Or maybe I could paint my room in rainbow colors. Or buy a rainbow jumpsuit. I don't think she'd get it. I was also thinking that when Andy comes to visit for my Birthday I could be like “hey mom, thanks for the presents, this is Andy, my boyfriend, we're gay.” Heeh. Then there's the idea of telling her at Pizza Ranch, but that relates to a family issue… (She freaked out and cried and basically threw a tantrum when my sister wanted to cut her hair the summer after her senior year. My sister told her this at Pizza Ranch. If my mom freaked out that much about hair…) There's also the phone call during my freshmen year of college approach. Or telling her as she leaves from dropping me off.
Some of those are just cruel. I'll find a better way.
It seemed like I had more to write, but since there's a lot already and I've forgotten, I'll just stop.
P.S. “if wishes were horses…” ends as “beggars would ride.” I finally looked it up.Here's the full Scottish proverb (?):
“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride
If turnips were swords, i'd wear one by my side
If ifs and ands were pots and pans,
there'd be no need for tinkers' hands”
The more you know.