which came first- the sad or the pensive?
I'm sitting in my cubicle at work listening to "Wild Horses" by the Rolling Stones. I am sad. I am pensive. I'm not sure which came first- the sad or the pensive?
I was sad, and then I started thinking about why I am sad, but again, I was also sad because I started thinking about all the things that are making me sad and I can't really figure out where it started.
JRo sent me one of those "Sunscreen" things which only made me sadder. Not because it was sad, but because it was just a reminder of how much everything is changing in my life, so quickly.
It's gloomy outside, my room is a mess, the right friends never have enough time for me, and the wrong friends won't leave me alone, and self-evaluations for work need to be completed by monday and for the first time i don't know what to say.
I feel like there is so much i need to do for my well being, but i keep trying to distract myself with bullshit. I'm trying to change in all the seemingly "importent" ways, and have thus far been doing an excellent job; learning self control, feeling good about myself- both physically and mentally, and dressing more like a grown-up.
something is missing. i need to get my life in "order".
be cleaner, neater, more careful with money and my belongings...etc.
all the boring stuff, it seems.
sigh.
I keep your picture in my worn-through shoes...
what does it mean to be missed?
when someone goes away on vacation, can they really be missed?
how can you miss someone that you know, for a fact, is coming back?
i was thinking about this whilst reading the numerous facebook posts i have had left for me "d, i miss you...come back", "when are you coming back? i miss you". do these people really miss me, or is it just a topic of conversation? first of all, i have only been gone for a little over a week-- i doubt most of my friends even see me once a week [with a couple exceptions here and there]. Can this many people really see a void i their lives that i must fill?
At the risk of sounding egotistical [which, of course, i am going to sound regardless of the precursor i leave], I am fabulous. I should be missed- in fact; i should be missed when i am at home as well. I am a great and loyal friend, i give honest, often unbiased advice, and i am loads of fun. This has not changed, i will be just as fantastic and fun, and a blunt and d-esque as i always have been once i a return from my vacation. so why miss me?
this morning we went to the cemetery to visit my grandfather. my grandfather [or 'saba eli' as we called him] died almost eight years ago of stomach cancer. every time we go to his grave or talk about him, a floodgate of memories opens; frying matazah bri with him as a small child, going for chocolate milk [which in Israel in the 80s they manufactured in small plastic bags- thus my face was always covered in chocolate milk], and him teaching me judo he learned in the army [in case, of course, anyone ever tried to mess with his "dondush"]. For some reason, as of late, the only memory that really stands out in my mind is the last time i saw my saba eli.
he had been sick several months, and after feeling much better for a while, flew to new york with my grandmother ["safta eda"] for a Las Vegas trip with my parents. They had a fantastic time, gambling, seeing shows, and eating delicious food. Upon their return to New York saba eli fell ill again- this time, it was 'it'. I sat with him in my living room day after day [once i got back from summer camp], while he sent safta eda and my mother to go shop for gifts for my cousins back in israel. We would talk, and watch stupid soap operas and make fun of all the silly idiots on talk shows, and just spend time together. One time he even turned to me and said "Don't ever forget how good it feels to be young". For someone like me, who usually has an answer for everything, i was at a loss. what words of wisdom could this petty 15 year old offer to a dying man? i put my head on his shoulder and told him "of course not".
he eventually got so sick that he had to spend his last few days in new york at the hospital. when we took him to the airport he had to be taken to the gate in a wheelchair. he was so fragile and small. it completely tore my heart to see a man that until then, i had seen as such a fighter, look so defeated. In that moment, i knew that this would be the last time i would ever see him again. I gave him a hug and a kiss, told him I loved him and would see him soon, and ran behind the corner of the gate so that he wouldn't see me lose it. Even sitting here, nearly eight years later, my eyes fill with tears- because in that one moment- i knew what it felt like to miss someone. It's a feeling I know and can't forget-- I won't.
-D
Greetings from the Holy Land
I love Israel.
I love the smell, the weather, the people, and the feeling of being in a place where everyone 'gets it'.
I do miss New York, though- for all the same reasons.
My family is insane; loud, obnoxious, always trying to feed eachother [and then of course telling whomever they are trying to feed that they eat too much], yelling, picking arguments, etc. My family is fantastic. I miss them so much when I am away, but when I am here they drive me absolutely crazy.
Everything one loves seems to maintain those same qualities- irritatingly addictive.
That's okay though.
