mama mia

HERE is what I have been DYING to get off my chest since October. I would LOVE feedback, because frankly, I am livid. And of course, wondering if I have the right to be. I think this goes back as far as last year.. though I can't be entirely sure. Anyway, my first mother invited me to go on a cruise.. just me and her. A mother-daughter bonding trip on a boat, if you will. I was thrilled beyond words. I, of course, said yes. In a heartbeat. What could possibly be more fun? We needed the time alone. Every trip I have made out to Vegas has been hectic and impossible to have a moment alone. Her friends, her mother, her job always got in the way of having any meaningful conversations. This was the perfect solution.

Then, in October - right around my birthday - she sends me a message, wishing me a happy birthday.. and just below that, there was a little "PS" message which read, "M* is so excited for the cruise! She's never been on one before! Neither has her daughter, M*. S* and N* have been before, though, but they're still excited!" And then I wanted to die. It's the same as always. I'm going to be alone on a cruise with my mother and her friends. The odd man out. She's got her posse with her, and I've got.. my cabin. And hopefully a working cell phone.

Naturally, I've said nothing. Only that I'm no longer sure I can go because of the timing with graduation/getting a job/fill in the blank. I just.. can't believe it went from mother-daughter bonding to mother-friends-daughter-in-the-room-wishing-she-hadn't-gone without any warning. I'm speechless.

And to display the depth of my patheticness, I watched Mamma Mia! over the break. A ridiculous, fun, nonsense musical that should have elicited every reaction in the world except the one that I had. During the scene where the mother is helping the daughter get ready for her wedding - (below)

she's sitting in her mother's lap while her mother paints her toes. It was the most chill scene ever. And I couldn't stop crying. I want that. I want to sit in my mother's lap while she paints my toes and I want it to be the most natural thing ever. But it's becoming increasingly clear that this will never be the case. Nothing will ever be 'natural'. I would never feel natural doing this with either of my mothers. Nothing close. I feel like I got jipped.

I let you get too close. I dropped my guard.

Is it strange that I kind of want to end this in a fight? I don't want to go gently into the night. I don't want to be quiet about it. I've been quiet for eight years. I've been a doormat for eight years. I want to go out of this kicking and screaming and scraping and sweating and bleeding. I want to scream until my throat is raw .. until every ounce of resentment and pent up anger and anguish is verbalized and vocalized.

I'm told that it will be a futile endeavour. That I'll end up hurt in the end anyway. That it will all backfire and I'll be made into the villain. That my emotions will be manipulated to suit the needs of the opposing party. The blame is always mine. Of course it is.

I wish my brain would let go of this.

somebody back east is sayin', "why don't she write?"

Classes have officially ended. Now all there is to do is sit and wait for this frakking snow to clear up enough that mum can come get me and bring me back to my home sweet CT. Snow is really the least of my troubles, though. The only way I can really describe my current state of mind is to tell you that I wish I were an ice cube..placed on the Thaw Thing. I want to melt.

I despise being in limbo. I feel like I need some sort of closure - whether that be positive or negative. I really don't care which. I'm just sick of limbo. Love me, hate me..acknowledge me, ignore me. Just pick a damn side and get on with it because this is bogus.

I just want to be home. I want to be out of here already. And this snow has got to stop.

"i frakked up, okay? i messed up. but it's all that i have. those people are my family. and none of us belong here."

I need advice. I thought I was done struggling with the idea of my grad show..but apparently I am not. Obvioulsy, because Portfolio III is a class that requires weekly images, I will have to come up with a project and see it through to the end of the quarter. But it seems the consensus among the professors is that they would prefer to see me hang the adoption project (which...needs a better name, btw). I would be all for it.. except that, assuming my parents will be attending the show, they may be the only ones who want to see it.

That, right there, is kind of a flag to me in the first place. No one wants to see it - no one wants to have to confront the issue of adoption. So...that would be all the more reason to force people to confront it, yes? But at the same time, remembering what I went through when I revealed it to my mother - in the privacy of my own apartment - makes me wanna throw up a bit. If she responded the way she did when it was hanging in my living room, I can't imagine what she might feel if it were hanging in a gallery while hundreds of people gawked at it.

I want to be fair, but I want/need to be true to myself. That was the first series I had to actually fight to produce, and as such..I want to honor it for what it is. It's a piece of myself - my own personal history displayed in words and photographs. But I can only imagine the threat it may appear as to my mother.

Guys. What the frak do I do?

"Patty would just as soon step on you as look at you.."

It has occured to me recently (last night while I flip flopped in my bed for three hours) that..through the whole of my adoption experience..I've had some amazing friends and some.. shall we say..that were lacking?

Despite any closeness that may have existed in other areas of my life/our friendship.. it seems that the aspect of adoption closes people off. And..I don't know why that is. Or maybe I do know, and I am choosing not to acknowledge it. Regardless of the reason, I'll never forget those who supported me - and likewise, those who did not.

15 steps

I'm steering clear of an adoption post today. I feel far too worn out by it all. There's actually quite a bit I could say, but frankly, I'm afraid of who might be reading. I don't like offending people - especially in a semi-public place (I say 'semi' because, really...who the hell even reads this).
I'm still trying to gather my thoughts on my graduation show. Professor Drucker, I'm sure (as well as many others - but I give Phil the credit because he raised me from a fledgling), will want to see the adoption project hung. And, frankly, so would I. But I don't think it will be possible since my parents plan on being there. Lord knows the last thing I need on my graduation day is the second releasing of what we now so fondly refer to as the 'atomic bomb'. I've thought of hanging my landscapes of Ireland - who can take issue with a lovely photograph of rolling hills and cloudy skies? But it feels so meaningless in comparison. And then I've got this gargantuan idea of illustrating the theories of relativity in photographs. But I'm worried the final images will come off as...something..more playful than serious - which is the exact opposite of what I want.
Too. Much. Thinking. For one morning alone. Why do I torture myself so?

us creative, deep thinking types, who crave connection with people who want nothing to do with us

I feel a little like a jerk cause I've not gotten back to Stacey's last two messages. I just have so little to say. I feel like I don't know what to say. I think she was planning on writing to my mom again - but I'm not sure my mom will go for it. Stacey wrote a pretty long letter to her a few months back..and my mom replied with little more than two paragraphs....in a huge ass font. I don't know that she really wants to know her. And as I've said, I've grown apathetic as of late. Presently, I don't care whether they know each other or not. A meeting between the two seems far off and near impossible, so I don't really see the point in surface conversation.

I've asked them to promise me that the first time they meet won't be at my wedding (again -extremely far off), but I have a feeling that will be exactly what happens. I'll have to remind myself to have a pistol holstered to my thigh, underneath my dress. God knows I'll need it.