bittersweet

my dad called me this morning for the last time in a while. as of 10am today, he is checking into an in-patient rehabilitation facility.

he's had a drug problem ever since i was a little girl. he's "tried" to deal with it many times before, but all to no avail.

i'm hopeful that this time it will be better.

i was never really involved in any of his issues before, but when he was arrested i was right there, to cry and yell at him and hit him and tell him i love him and cry a lot more.
i've also been checking in with him, asking him if he was going to his probation meetings and going to the outpatient classes he was placed in instead of staying in jail.
i was there when a test came up dirty and there was the possibility of him going back to jail for a very long time.
i was there when he found out that he was going to be placed in an in-patient program instead of going to jail.

now i'm here, stuck without him for at least the first five weeks. i'm not allowed to visit, or call, or have any contact with him until they say i can. its going to be extremely tough, but it will be worth it so long as he can get past this.

the last thing he said to me on the phone this morning was a toast- "here's to finally hearing that pop when i pull my head outta my ass". i didn't know whether to cry or laugh. now i'm doing both.

i love you, daddy.

Should I tell her?

My sister has been getting in her fair share of trouble since I left for school last year.
To be honest, she got in some before I left, but its only gotten worse since then.

As of right now, she's grounded for a very long time. And if she screws up this progress period, my mom wants to take her out of school and put her on home studies. The only problem with this is that no one would be here to watch her, since mom works.
To solve this problem, mom wanted to put in a security system so she would know if my sister tried to leave during the day. The only problem with this is, we're super stressed out over money right now because of school. (Though a lot of our concerns were put to rest this morning, that's for sure.)

Anyways, all of this is coming to a head now because when she gave me her phone after getting home from school (she isn't allowed to have it for anything other than calling mom, which she can do from the house phone), she got a message. So Robbie and I knew she had been texting. While looking to see how many messages had been sent, and at what times, we ran across some messages that definitely should not have been there. And not about ditching or smoking cigarettes or anything, dirty messages that should NOT have been there.

So now I'm faced with a dilemma. I could tell my mom, which would stress her out beyond all belief, and then me leave for school this week. Or, I could ignore that this is happening, my sister will wind up being pregnant, and her life will be fucked. Or, I can go in and see her guidance counselor Thursday (he was also mine, and boy did we have our fair share of meetings). I'm going with door three. It's his job, right? He should know what to do with minimal stress on everyone involved, right?

For now, Gabbie is afraid that I'm going to tell mom. Hell, I'm afraid that I'm going to tell mom. What if it just slips out? If I'm angry and everyone starts yelling and it just comes out?

Our entire homelife would fall apart, that's what would happen.

But she is afraid of me right now. She didn't even argue when I told her she had to do the dishes. It was actually my turn, but at the same time, Robbie and I cleaned the rest of the house. Only fair if you ask me.

Asylum

Had a fantastic time last night. The music was great (stuff i knew set to dance beats instead of hiphop songs i've never even heard of), was there with a lot of great people, and danced my ass off. Didn't get to go in the cage, it was occupied all night, but there's always next time.
I did learn to not wear heels though, or at least bring flats to dance in. My feet are killing me today. Still worth it.
Most interesting part of the night? When a lady kindly asked me to scoot over so she could be whipped by a man wearing a kilt.

Origins

Stephen King describes the way the mind stores things as an attic or room full of boxes. I have heard many forms of this same idea used to describe the mind, though I have never understood it really. Boxes seem so organized, almost as if everything is filed in its proper place. I've never really remembered things that way.



To me, its more like digging through a pile that is completely out of order, and you just happen to stumble upon things. To me, it's always seemed like one little corner of the room that's separated by a curtain. To me, you either place things behind it with love and fondness, or throw something in there and run like hell, hoping and praying it doesn't come back out chasing you.



Lately, there hasn't been much noise coming from behind there, but on other occasions you can here the laugh of a baby, the blare of almost constant music playing, or even the sound of sirens. Lots of things are behind there, and before I leave, there will be many, many more.