Monday, May 31, 2010

Three years ago today my dad died.

Since it's already about 3 a.m., it's officially May 31st.
On May 31, 2007, my father passed away between the hours of 7 and 9 a.m. I'd just started a new job, I was wrapping sandwiches with a co-worker discussing my father's illness (ironically). The phone rang and I just stood there because I knew, in my heart, that it was my mother calling to tell me that my father was dead.
My dad was diagnosed with cancer when I was about eight years old. I'm 23 now. He lived with leukemia for more than 11 years, which is A LOT longer than most people who have leukemia. What was unfortunate for me was that I'd just learned about death AND leukemia shortly before my father was diagnosed.
A friend in my class had died. To be honest, we were hardly friends. I felt bad for him and for some reason I was greatly affected by his death. I'm guessing it's because I was so young and I didn't know that children died like older people did.
I was standing on the back porch when my mom told me that my dad had cancer and I remember her explaining to me that my dad wouldn't die the way the kid in my class did and that they found it early so he would be fine.
Sooner than I thought, my father's hair began to fall out and I was petrified. I automatically connected his hair loss to death because the boy in my class had NO hair and he was really offended when I asked him why he was bald. I didn't know what cancer was. I didn't know that you could die at any age. As a naive child, I thought you only died when you got old.
One day my dad shaved his head and he was peering down at me from the top of the basement stairs and I ran away from him.
I guess that's when I forced myself to take life more seriously. I stopped going outside as much and when I did, it was to avoid my father because I was afraid to get close to him. I didn't want him to die and I didn't want to have a strong bond with him if I could help it.
Eventually, his cancer just became a regular thing for us. It was like, "Oh I have chemo on this day so I can't take you to school." Or "Come down to the hospital and then all three of us can go have dinner and take a cab home."
In elementary school, I guess I somewhat forgot that my father had this disease. When I started high school, many things changed, including the condition of my father's health.
He missed my first day of high school and I found out later that day that he trashed his hospital room and was ranting to all of his nurses about how upset he was.
I will never forget how proud I was of my father for doing that, for bragging about me and wishing he was here to see me.
There were many days when I'd come home and neither of my parents would be there because of complications during his chemotherapy or last minute hospitalizations. I can't even count how many times we ended up in the ER at the really shitty hospital down the street or at Northwestern.
A lot of people ask me why I am such a hard person or why I am the way I am. It's because when I was 8 years old, I nearly died. A kid in my class died during the same year. Shortly thereafter, my father was diagnosed with cancer.
I take life very seriously, sometimes too seriously at times. When I want to be carefree or when I want someone to take care of me, I feel bad about it. I'm so used to doing things for myself because my mother spent the majority of my adolescence having to take care of my dad and that's what I was used to.
I miss him.
By the time I was in college, doctors were constantly wondering if he'd make it through the night. When my father was seeing a doctor at a certain hospital, our family doctor (who works at this certain hospital by the way) STRONGLY encouraged my mother to get him out of there and go to Northwestern. The doctor at Northwestern gave my father an extra four years of life, at the very least.
But things got very bad when I was 20. He constantly had problems with his legs. They would get really swollen and red...and sometimes liquid would ooze out of them (I know it's gross and I'm sorry lol). I can't remember why this happened and maybe it's for the best that I don't know all of the details but one day, it was just horrible. We didn't know what to do. He couldn't walk. His legs were hurting too much. An ambulance had to come and pick him up at the house. He was so tired. Northwestern kept him for about a week and then kicked him out.
My mother took it upon herself to put him in a rehabilitation center (not the kind of drug addicts...the kind for people who need physical therapy)/nursing home.
The people at this facility treated my father like shit. They also failed to do any physical work with him. In fact, I did more physical activity with him on my own, than any of the nurses.
Even though he was angry at me, I carried him out of his bed into a wheel chair and I made him use his feet to wheel himself out into the hall to play catch with me.
He just... deteriorated right in front of me. Over the period of a week, my father's weight dropped tremendously. He was not keeping any food down. He was always cold and clammy. He was miserable. His mood swings were unbearable. He wasn't himself.
I went on my job interview with my mom. We decided to go see my dad to tell him the good news. He didn't really care. I sat in his room w/ him as he laid practically lifeless in his bed, staring at the TV that wasn't even on and I heard this screaming from outside the room.
I ran out and found my mother on the floor crying, saying that the doctor said he had two months to live.
Two months.
My first instinct was to go and tell all of my relatives and get advice from them. So after I dug into my mother's purse for her cell phone, my dad stopped me and asked me what happened. Then he asked me "Am I dying?..." and I said "No. You're not gonna die. You can't, remember?" A few months earlier, a bereavement counselor tried telling me that I should let go of my father while he was still alive and that he was going to die and I needed to accept that.
I told her "I need to leave now because I really want to punch you in the face. Don't tell me what I need to accept. He's still alive."
I went back to his room that day and I cried and I held him and he asked me what happened. All I said was that I needed him to promise me that he wouldn't die. He said he wasn't going anywhere and that he was going to keep fighting. I never told him why I made him promise me that. I never really told anyone about that conversation I had with that woman or how my mother just sat there and cried.
I went to one of the hallways and I called my aunt and she said that I should've expected as much and that all we could do now was pray for him. I called my other aunt, no answer. I called my cousin and she cried. I remember standing in the hall crying with her on the phone asking "what are we gonna do? what am I supposed to do? how can this be happening?"
The next day...all I will say is that the nurses did not do their job and my father somehow found the physical strength to pick up the telephone, call the house and say "I am lying in my own waste and it's running down my leg and the nurses won't come in and help me." I've never seen my mother move so quickly. She went to the nursing home, bitched out the staff and then made more nurses clean him even though they complained.
This is your job. This is what you signed up for.
I had to get up very early the next morning. My mom contemplated staying at the nursing home to be with him and I really wanted her to but she chose to come home.
That night, I laid in bed and cried harder than I can ever remember. I knew he was going to die.
I just didn't know that he would die the next morning.
Phone rings. Someone else answers. She pats my shoulder before handing me the phone. My mom is on the other end screaming and crying.
"He's gone," she said.
"What do you mean he's gone???"
"He died. He died this morning. You have to come home right now."
At first I didn't cry. The girl who was training me asked what happened and looked like she wanted to cry when I told her.
I couldn't breath. I went to my locker, got my stuff, the girl followed me outside and said she was sorry and I just broke down. I jumped into a cab and the driver saw that I was upset. He sat there for a minute before he decided to start driving. I'd called my best friend Miguel and I knew I had woken him because his cousin slept over and they were up late playing video games. His mom answered the phone and I heard her say "something's wrong. You need to get up right now." When I told him, HE started crying. He came over right away. I called my old best friend from high school, she loved my Dad and always told me that she wished he was hers. I had to leave her the worst voice mail in the world "Dad's dead. Call me later. Come to the house."
When I got home, my mom was still in...really bad shape.
We went to the nursing home, Miguel, my family and I. When we got to his room, I'd been hyperventilating for about 10 minutes already and I fell to the ground and crawled to his bed. As cliche as this all sounds, it's 100% true.
I just held his hand and sat there begging him to wake up.
What really just...sucked was the fact that I'd made plans to come visit him after work and tell him about all of the goals I'd like to achieve in life.
I still cry at weddings because I know my dad will not be the one walking me down the aisle, if I ever choose to get married. And I also cry because I know he will not be the one I dance with. If I ever decide to have children, he will not be the one to hold them or play with them or tell them boring stories like he used to with me.
I know he's in a better place. It's the only thing that keeps me going. I'm not a religious person but I have to have some faith. I have to know that he isn't just six feet under. He's up there somewhere, hoping that we've all gone on with our lives and that we're not sad all of the time. I just wish I could have one more day with him and just spend the entire time together talking about everything we never got to talk about.
I wish I could know that he's proud of me, wherever he is and that he's looking out for me from time to time, keeping me out of trouble.

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Sura Thai Bistro and changes in a year.

This restaurant is amazing
Ian took me to Sura ^^ yesterday and it was SO good. Whenever I visit a Thai restaurant for the first time, I always have to try their pad thai so that's what I got. They have a "Crazy Pad Thai" that rocked my face, okay? Let me just start by saying - I love options. I mean, who doesn't? If you have the option between the normal and the...not so normal, and you're at a place for the first time, wouldn't you go for the not so normal?
That's what I did.
I got the Crazy Pad Thai and my choice of meat was...MUSSELS.
Mussels are amazing, if you haven't tried them yet by the way. They can be tricky to cook if they're fresh. Frozen are not as good. I love having them at restaurants because everyone cooks them differently. Some are more fishy, while others have a very heavy garlic and butter flavor to them. Personally...I do not care how my mussels are cooked.
Anyway, pad thai leans a little closer to the sweet side of foods, as opposed to salty like a number of Asian dishes. What was interesting about this dish was that Sura adds MANGO to their pad thai so you get an EXTREMELY sweet flavor mixed in with the choice of meat, the vegetables and the noodles.
I will definitely go back if Ian wants to, which I'm assuming he does since he's been wanting to go here for a while and has been there before.
They also serve sushi, which I'd like to try next time but I completely fell in love with the pad thai so if you live in Chicago, go to their website, write down the address and GO.
I would've posted photos if I'd brought my camera this weekend but sadly, I did not.

Each time I am with Ian, we talk about what we want from our relationship. His lease is up soon. So he will be moving into a one bedroom apartment. The plan has always been that when his lease is up, we'll move in together. In less than a year or so (not exactly sure about the date), Ian's lease expires. He still wants me to move out, even if I don't have a job, which I better have because I will feel completely and utterly useless.
But it's nice that the idea is there. The idea of not having to pack up my stuff every Sunday and pack again on Wednesday night for Thursday. I love being with him and it will be nice when I know I can go out and come home and he'll be there waiting for me.
I want to get a big dog...like a golden retriever or a chocolate lab but I know that golden retrievers shed A LOT. Anyways, I told Ian that it's always been a dream for me to have a dog sleep in the bed with me. Even if it just sleeps at the foot of the bed...I guess having a big pillow for it to sleep on the floor would be ideal as well. It doesn't really matter. I just want a big dog. ...He's snoring again. Two weeks ago, I stayed up really late because he was snoring so loudly..I think I finally went to bed at 4 a.m.
Big things are coming soon, I can feel it.
By the way, yes, I have really enjoyed my time off from the paper and I am totally looking forward to being a student and NOT being on a newspaper. HELLO FREE/STUDY TIME!!

Sunday, May 23, 2010

It's not easy being green.

Dinner tonight = not even worth mentioning. If my mother cooked more...I'd have more blogs about food and less about my relationship and my self-esteem issues.
Anyway, since I often feel like I'm talking to a wall, I'm just going to write it here for him to read if he feels like it.
I don't know if I'm alone on this one...actually, I know for a fact that I am NOT alone on this one because I just talked to a girl about this last night.
Sometimes, women just feel really BAD about themselves and as the woman's boyfriend it's his job to make her feel better. I am in no way saying that a guy should constantly make the girl feel better about herself but once in a while, showing how much you care about the person you're dating is really nice.
And as I've said before, I am more of a "I need to SEE how you feel about me" as opposed to "I need to HEAR how you feel about me."
Words are just words...words are so f'ing easy to say, DOING something to show someone how much you mean to them is completely different.
I am constantly fighting a battle against myself. There's days when I wake up and I can say, "there's nothing wrong with me." And then there's days when I don't even look in the mirror. There is no woman on this planet who is 100 percent, 265, 24-7 happy with herself whether it be her body, her personality, how she treats people. It doesn't matter. And if there IS a woman like that...well, that's good for her.
I don't need constant attention despite what he might think. And truth be told, I still get really frustrated with having to pull everything out of him and last night, all I could do was cry. It's not fair to me...that I'm expected to be so open and honest and he doesn't do the same.
I know that whoever's reading this is probably thinking "yeah...you said all of this before." And you're right. I keep saying it because the same problems in our relationship still exist.
I don't always feel like this but more often than not, I do feel like I am second in his life and I just keep wondering, if I spent the rest of my life with Ian, would I therefore spend the rest of my life being second? And if we ever had children...would our children come in 3rd and 4th place? Sometimes I lie awake in bed wondering about all of that. And I don't say anything because I feel so bad because I love his mother. A lot. I don't know if that feeling is reciprocated and I doubt that it is but...I wish that my mom was as giving and caring as she is. His mom would go to the end of the Earth for him. But I also feel that he can't be the only one held responsible and really, it's nobody's fault. It's what they're used to since his father is out of the picture...for a long time, even when his dad WAS around, all they had were each other.
But we're adults now and we will only continue taking more steps into the direction of adulthood as time passes.
Last night, Laura told me something that she asked her boyfriend Joe. She asked him "If something really bad or really good happened to you...would you call me first?" And he said yes. And I just sat in her car wondering if I asked Ian something like that, I know that he would have a hard time deciding who would hear the good or bad news first. But most likely, he'd just send a text because he doesn't like his voice so we never talk on the phone.
When this topic of him not showing that he cares for me came up, there was a lot of "I'm going to try and do this and this to fix things or surprise you" and now I'm crying again. Fantastic. Anyway, none of those things happened. I still do not get phone calls. I still don't get flowers. I have to ask him to plan things....
Am I supposed to ask? Like, is this how things really are? I'm serious. I don't know that much about relationships...but I do know what I want. And I know how I am when I don't get what I want. I'm a brat.
If we want to spend the rest of our lives together, shouldn't we SHOW that that's how we feel about each other instead of just saying words?
Of course I can also be blamed. I don't show how I feel or talk about how I feel because I'm scared...because I honestly, sometimes don't know how he feels about me. And there are definitely times when I feel so insignificant in his life when he has become a large part of mine and he's met my entire family and all of my friends. I guess that's how I show that I'm serious about this. By having everyone meet the person that I'd like to grow old with.
I could walk away from all of this and I'd be devastated but sometimes I wonder if that's what's best for me.
And then I remember that he never intentionally hurts me or wants me to feel bad about myself but...I don't know. This is what I want and I know that not every day can be perfect and maybe I'm just being selfish.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Breaking up is hard to do...so I don't do it.

We didn't break up.
But we almost did.
...Well, I almost did the breaking up for us. Because I'm really good at screwing things up and making things into a bigger deal than they need to be.
Anyway, I just kind of sat there and thought about how often Ian NEEDS to go online and do work stuff or non-related work stuff. This is an argument that we have had in the past and nothing ever really gets resolved. He says things will change and I say to myself that I'll be more patient but how much more patient am I supposed to be?
He spent the entire Saturday being a sour puss at the aquarium. You don't understand. I've been waiting to go to the aquarium for more than 10 years...and I finally was able to go and Ian was just acting moody and quiet the majority of the day.
I never really know what is bothering him and what really pisses me off, because I know he's reading this, is that I have to DRAG EVERYTHING OUT OF HIM as if we just started dating or something. We've known each other for almost a year. It'll be a year in July. We've been dating for over nine months now. What more do I have to do?? It's like he won't let me in or something. He has accused me of doing that in the past but I have let him in and sometimes, more often than not, I feel like there is a double standard between the two of us.
Why should I be expected to divulge every little detail of my sad and pathetic life but when I ask him about anything, I usually just get a one word answer?
I'm not really allowed to know about ex-girlfriends or girls that he met and dated for a short period of time, just dates that did not work out.
I'm not really allowed to know about his history with his father yet he expects me to have the same hatred he has towards his Dad. Sorry, no. I know he's sitting at home, reading this and shaking his head or I'm probably asleep in his lap and he's still responding the same way.
Anyhow, I guess yesterday I had had it with his taking out his work frustrations out on me. He doesn't yell at me or hit me but he just gets in these really AWFUL, disgusting, foul moods and I am the one who has to put up with him when he's like this. Not really fair. Especially when he has consistently been acting sort of bratty-like for at least the past week.
For some reason, last night I convinced myself that I'd leave. I started texting everyone I knew who had a car who could come and pick me up at Ian's so that I could go home and be away from him and teach him a lesson.
But nobody answered or they did and said they couldn't come and get me.
Afterwards, as I laid in bed listening to him snore, I took it as a sign that we were meant to stay together.
I didn't really WANT to leave and the truth is, when you need to leave someone, you usually don't WANT to but you know that it's what you need to do.
I could've really messed things up. What if I had gotten a ride? What if Juan or whoever would've answered their phones? I'd be sitting here typing a story about how we broke up and I'd be crying.
I don't really want to leave him and I didn't really want to leave last night but I also did not want to be one of those people who puts up with everything.
What really broke me was when we were standing in front of each other and he said "If you leave me I want you to know that I'll love you forever." And it took everything inside of me not to cry.
I don't like being taken for granted. I like knowing that I'm appreciated and loved. I'm a girl. In that sense, I AM high maintenance. I need love and affection.
But looking back, I'm glad I didn't leave and I'm very grateful for the fact that nobody was able to come pick me up.
I know that if we had broken up and I told him this, I most likely would've called him or emailed him asking him to take me back.
Things honestly weren't that bad. But when I sit there and think about things, I make things even worse than they were to begin with. If that makes any sense.

Why didn't I leave?
Because I love him more than anyone I've ever loved before.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Post before bedtime.

Since I still need something to keep me occupied, I've decided to write a book.
I figure it will take about three years to complete based on all of the research and traveling that is required of me in order for me to completely devote myself to the book and give it the respect it deserves.
It's an idea that I came up with in my creative writing class about two years ago and I just never really followed through with it. I am also going to get back into my scrap booking stuff - It isn't really scrap booking, it's journaling with photos and magazine stuff, somewhat hard to explain so I'll take photos at some point. I started doing "scrap booking" when I was 14-years-old. I showed it to my Gallery37 teacher at the time and he said that the stuff I was making was something that rich people would want on their coffee tables to prove that they're indie and hip and "in it" but that I could probably make a lot of money selling my memories or putting things like that together for other people. The thing is that the "scrap booking" takes about a year to do, if you want to be detailed with the coloring and the gluing. I don't use tape or staples, I glue everything in - I like the way the layers feel...Having one layer of a photo and then two or three layers of magazine cut outs underneath photos. I use pastels and water color paints. I haven't worked on a "scrap book" in more than a year so Ian is not even in it. That would probably be my main focus.
I have three complete notebooks and one that is about 1/4 done because I created one for my creative writing class.
But back to the book...
I won't go into details about it but it will partially be based on my father's life...a very, very small part of the book will be based on his life. The majority of it will be fiction. The reason why I need to travel is because traveling is part of the story line and I think it'd be interesting to add whatever strangers I meet on my travels, to the book itself.
I haven't really talked to Ian today. A few text messages here and there. He spent the day with a friend of his out of pure loneliness and boredom. The last I had heard about this friend was that he was trying to steal homeless people's identities or something like that to collect money. Sounds like a real catch.
I find it really strange that I am not allowed to meet his friend...and I know at some point, Ian will read this. I believe that I'll probably dislike him a lot less if I meet him...but there's also a chance that I'll dislike him a lot more if I meet him. Still, just another example of Ian's need to be so secretive. A little weird. Especially after almost a year of dating. At some point, this will be a downfall.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

As far as I'm concerned, I've already left.

My time on the paper is officially over. The new issue is out. I've already decided that I will not be attending the last meeting - What's the point?
Yesterday Juan and I went to the Field Museum and it was pretty cool - We went for extra credit and wrote about the Earth Science exhibit and about meteorites, blah blah blah.
I spent the day with Ian. I was so tired because I really haven't been getting enough sleep lately and I know that that'll all change after school's over. One more week. I fell asleep in his arms. I ONLY fall asleep that way if I know we are napping. When it's really time for bed, I always go over on the other side. He's too warm and I'm already warm to begin with.
I still sleep with a fan on full speed, even when it's winter.
On Friday, Ian and I and maybe his Mom are gonna go see Iron Man 2. I've been hearing a lot of bad things about it and I know that it leaked online like Wolverine but what's the point? Why would you go and ruin it for yourself like that? Because it's probably missing some special effects or something. I only watch older films online.
The other day, Juan and I went into Fox and Obel because we needed lunch meat and cheese to make sandwiches for our trek to the museum. I decided to re-apply for my old job there. Who knows what'll happen?
I've also decided that I'll probably NOT take summer classes because for the first time in years, I want to know what it feels like to have a free summer. I had to take summer classes in high school as well. I've only taken summer classes once since I've been in college because all of the other times I was required to work at the paper.
Not anymore.
I just want a break and that's what I'm going to get.
On SATURDAY, Ian and I are going to the aquarium....as long as Semaj (my old newspaper work friend) brings them for me, finally. You don't understand. You, whoever is reading this. I've been begging Semaj to get my aquarium passes since like October. Semaj volunteers at the library so she's able to get free passes for the museum, aquarium and planetarium.
I can't even remember the last time I went to the aquarium and I hope it lives up to its expectations. I REEEEEEEEEEALLY want to see the sharks and I just want to stand under the big tank full of different fish and watch all of them.
My mother has always attributed my love of swimming and fish to my zodiac sign - I am a pisces. When I was younger, I would stay in our pool for eight hours at a time, at least. I still love swimming and I love to just sit and watch fish. I DO NOT like to swim in the ocean nor do I want fish touching my feet when I'm in the lake...so I don't do either. I like to catch fish as well, which is weird. Idk. My cousin stepped on a jelly fish twice within a year and that scared the crap out of me.
During this week and the beginning of next week I will be studying for my physical science final. I hope I pass. I need to pass.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

I'm glad I'm leaving.

I truly am. I can finally get my life back on track. I don't have to walk by the newsroom and feel inclined to go in if I take summer classes. I'm ready to move on. At first I thought I wasn't but I really am.
I thought I'd be sad..
It makes me sad to know that I WANT to leave and that I want to leave for negative reasons.
I'm just tired of all of the BS that happens in that room.
The truth is that things will never change. The kids will always find somebody to talk trash about and at one point in the four years I was on the paper, that was me.
There will always be someone who cries on cue to get sympathy, that was me as well.
There's always going to be that one person who has an outburst during layout at 3 a.m. because the work is not getting done efficiently, me again.
We have ALL been there. Everyone who has put their all into the paper has experienced this pain, anguish and anger over being there so late and working so hard.
I've grown so tired of the whining and the fighting that I've had to put up with from 18 year olds. My biggest piece of advice for them would be to grow up.
They all just need to grow the hell up.
One day soon they will realize that none of this crap is worth fighting about, that they don't NEED to run their mouths about people and that their main goal must and always should be getting the paper out on time.
I'm glad I'm done.
I can finally live my life again.