too fast!

Time has sped up. It seriously has.

I'm crazy. I'm tired. An a very befuddling combonation of terrified and exuberant. And sad. and peaceful. and confused...surprise.

I don't know if grandpa will ever come home again. Coming home every weekend is weird right now. It's only grandma...it's so quiet...i though i would enjoy it more.

Sometimes i wish i could read forever.

Yesterday was a disturbing day. I hate Hollywood, i hate pretentious art shows, i hate having my picture taken by some jerk so stoned out of his mind he can't hold a cigarette in his mouth and i hate being so uncomfortable i want to crawl out of my skin!! uuughghalalabbbgghh.
There is a reason why i'm antisocial! And overly careful! And don't go on dates! And the one time i take a little step out of that i feel like i've gone swimming in a lake of snot. All i could do was keep calling on the Lord...thank goodness he was there. all i hope is that somehow i'll learn something from this...

Today was good. I went to the Norton Simon with my friend Nick from school and it made me feel better. I just really don't want to go to school tomorrow.
Jesus, i'm afraid of trying too hard...i still don't know who i am and what you want me to do.

I feel like too much is slipping away from me. People, mostly. It may sound strange, i'm not one who holds up well when i feel like i'm losing a best friend...I miss her. I miss my friend. I miss my friend.

Lord i don't know what to do...


sigh...don't worry. i'm just venting. it'll pass...

c

Technical Difficulties

Well, due to some aircraft malfunctions...Sarah's not coming home until this afternoon. Dad and i will be leaving around 3 to go pick her up at LAX...ugh. But at least she'll be home!
It's August...and it's cold. It's cold. whaaaa?

In other news, We're all trying to figure out how to handle quite a delicate and mystifying issue...
What do you do with someone who's sick...but wants to die?
You all who have read my blog for a while (and my friends, naturlich) know that my family and i live with my grandparents and are caring for them, along with regular 24-hour help from 5 excellent ladies. Anyone who has read my blog for a while also knows what a charming guy my grandpa is. (dripping sarcasm)

Doctor's visits consist of his excalamations of, "I should be dead by now," when he takes his meds at breakfast and dinner you can hear him muttering under his breath "why do I take these damn pills," and nearly every morniing as he struggles out of bed, he wonders why he just won't die.

For a few months now he has been developing congestion in his chest and throat, and in the last few weeks it's evolved into a terrible rasping, grating cough that literally makes it sound as if we'll see a lung or something popping out of his mouth. He's also gotten more and more bitter...threatening to strike my grandma, and actually taking swings at some of our caregivers. He radiates unhappiness and malcontent...and the only time you see him smile is if he feels he's made a particularly brilliant little joke on someone else's behalf. He's lost any ounce of politeness, manners or cooperation...he won't even take a shower once a week with a helper unless forced to. And now that he's feeling so lousy, you can imagine how his attitude has far from improved. And he won't go to the doctor. Flat out refuses.

A couple of months ago, mom was alone with him in the house when she heard him calling her name.
She went out to find him in the middle of the hallway, leaning on his walker. "What is it, dad?" she asked him.
His unfocused gaze passed her as he answered wearily, "Where do I go to check out?"
Mom, a bit taken aback had to mull over this a moment, and asked him what he meant. He merely repeated himself. It was apparent that a little heart to heart was in order.
She sat him in the living room and leaned on his knees like a little child, and again, tried to figure out what to say.
"Do you mean 'where do I go to die?'" she asked him. He said yes.
"Dad, I don't know. If I knew I would tell you. But you're just going to have to wait until the good Lord decides to take you."
She told him she loved him, and she told him that if he went, grandma would be taken care of. We figured long ago that really the only thing keeping him around is my grandma. So she wanted him to understand that.


A week or so ago, my grandpa was literally making the house a living nightmare...fits of rage, cursing and insults plagued the house and one of our caregivers almost left us for good. This time the talk my mom had with her father wasn't so gentle. She flat-out told him that if he didn't make an effort to display even an ounce of kindness or cooperation we would be forced to put him in a home...because we can't keep him around if he won't let us take care of him.
She then went on to an even deeper issue...his relationship with God.

We don't know if my grandpa is saved or not. My grandma, though very ritualistic and nonchalant at times about her faith, i know has a relationship with Jesus...no matter how small, it's there. And that's all it takes. A wonderful example of this can be seen here.
Mom told him that he needed to start thinking about where he's heading, and where he stands in God's eyes. "There are qualities that I see displayed in the lives of older people I know that know the Lord, dad. And I don't see those qualities in you and it scares me." She addressed his cursing, his taking of the name of Jesus in vain, and telling people to go to hell. "If you really know what you were saying when you said that...you would not be saying it." When he got all upset and told her to give it a rest, she only stood firmer. "I'm prepared for you to not like me, if only i can tell you the truth. You have to think about these things...you have to do it now." She told him, on the verge of tears, "I want to see you in heaven, dad."
I really wish i could remember the whole thing...it was really beautiful what she told him.

When she said "I love you" to him, she was thrown back the usual, "Yea? Do you really?", delivered with the utmost bitterness.
And things were a bit better for a day or two. Until his cough worsened.

As of a few days ago, things have gotten pretty bad. He'll lay on the couch coughing and fighting to breathe. His body is under so much strain from the wracking spasms in his chest, we're having to give him pain medication regularly. But he denys having a cough, and when my mom told him the other night that he was wheezing, he said to her, "No I'm not. You don't know what the hell you're talking about." Then, literally toying with her, he wheezed his breath in and out, exaggerated and pained, and snickered at her as she stood over him.
Mom says that he knows exactly what he's doing. "I think he even knows what's wrong with himself," she told Susan (our primary helper) and i the other night. "I think he's excited because he know that if he lets this go, it could turn into pnemonia and he could die." My grandpa used to be an incredible doctor, so it makes complete sense.

What he doesn't know, is that their doctor is doing something almost unheard of these days...she's making a house call and is coming today to see him. My mom is coming home from work early so she can be here.
And it is not going to be pretty.

We almost wish we could just let it go...the man is 91 and has no will to live, for heaven's sake! But we can't just sit around and do nothing. If we can at least keep him comfortable until he passes that will be okay. There's a reason why he's stuck around so long. I know that God is trying to break throught to him. But the last thing we want to do is pump the guy full of medicine that will only prolong his suffering. Last night my mom broke down, and i wished so badly i could do something.
All i can do is pray for peace...and the hope that someday my mom will see her dad in heaven.

I just wonder how long things can go on this way...

this is the title

Happy Birthday to Pip.

It was on the 6th. Yesterday was his raging partaaay. We had excellent fare, good company, and some very engaing rounds of Mafia.
It was much fun, Pip. You should be proud.

Stayed home from church today to be on grandparent duty so my mom could go.
In the past years as he's gotten older, my grandpa has been known to say rhymes or sing songs off the top of his head whenever he happens to remember them. Usually a little diddy from the 40's, or a slightly vulgar quip to make my grandma mad.

The surprise is no longer his suddenly saying them, but what it is he's going to say.
While he and grandma were in the living room and i was making them lunch, i heard my grandpa recite...

"Jack and Jill went up the hill
to fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down and broke his crown
and Jill came tumbling after."

He paused, apparently satisfied with having remembered the whole thing, then said, "Isn't that the dumbest thing?" and his eyes wandered, unfocused, in my grandma's direction.

Grandma kept her eyes on the golf game. "I wonder what that means..." she said quietly, "...broke his crown..."

Grandpa frowned slightly. "Don't you know?? He broke his head!!!"

"Oh I know," replied my grandma. "It's just--"

"What do they care anyway. The people who wrote those things," said grandpa.

Grandma thought for a moment. "Well," she began, "it might have had something to do with the views on the monarchy at that time--"

"Whatever," said my grandpa.

And that was that!

He's been behaving himself pretty well today...which is nice. Because i'm tired. It's gorgeous outside, though...I got some lovely sun on my shoulders. I'm so glad to be on spring break this week.
I don't want to do A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G.

Have a happy Sunday.

the author and finisher

Happy Easter, all.

You know, despite how often i vent frustration here, i have so much to be thankful for. I need to remember that. i do right now.
It's just so much easier to think about every thing that's wrong. Looking for the Lord's hand should be my first reaction to adversity. Too bad it doesn't always work that way.
I've been thinking about a lot of things. And when i think about things...alot, i tend to overthink...and worry myself over circumstances i have no control over. Why do i do this? It's so frustrating. i've already done it 2 or 3 times today. lzibfIubg.

Last night i had "grandma duty". She usually rings around 3 am, and i was up so late last night--until about 2--that i decided i'd just wait up for her to call instead of having to wake up just as i fell asleep.
Sure enough, at about 2:50, she buzzed me and i went in to help her pee and give her her pill. As she was drinking a little bit of milk, she began to do something she's been doing more and more lately...getting it down the wrong hole and choking on it.

It's something that's yet another development of Parkinson's disease...the loss of the ability to swallow correctly. And in the past few weeks, i've been noticing her choking on her drinks more and more...and at some point it will happen with food as well. And with elderly people, getting too much debris in the lungs, or simply choking too much can lead to pnemonia.
I brought grandma's choking up to my mom, and she had noticed it, too. She says that at some point, because of this problem, most people with Parkinson's need feeding tubes. But my mom already talked with my grandma...and she says she doesn't want to have one. I don't know what we'll do at that point.

As grandma sat and coughed, i couldn't do anything but watch her. So i sat with my hand on her back and waited, growing more and more anxious. When she stopped, she asked for a little bit of water. Then i got her back in bed.
I stayed up for another half hour or so, just in case she called again, and she didn't. Not until around 7, which is usual as well. I went back to bed and slept for about an hour more, before my alarm went off, and i got up to get ready for church and help mom with breakfast. Peach pancakes and sausage and fruit.
After telling him about 3 times, grandpa finally began remembering it was Easter. He was in a good mood this morning. He even took a shower by himself before we got up, to my mom's surprise and horror.

Church was lovely, as we had a lot of out-of town visitors; many of them from a sister-church in northern California. Sarah and i went alone, as my mom had to be here with the g-rents, and my dad is very sick. But it was still nice. She drew a fish on my hand.

Anyway. It's another beautiful day... and Jesus is alive...so that's pretty cool.
think about that.
(:

Twas the night before Christmas...

and all down the hall,
grandpa's sneeze echoed,
a primal scream call.

Twas the night before Christmas...
and out in the kitchen,
mom's making cheesecake,
that's sure to be bitchin'.

Twas the night before Christmas...
and under the fake tree,
the Puppy leaves presents
for you and for me.

Twas the night before Christmas...
and there on my floor,
lay all of my gifts,
unwrapped by the door.

My grandparents nestled
all snug in their bed,
all bathed and all clean
for the long day ahead.

Grandma will dream
of cookies and flowers,
while Grandpa will dwell
on how much he hates showers.

Mom will continue
to slave through the night,
preparing the house
like a wee Christmas sprite.

Sarah sits bent
in her computer chair,
creating my gift
sure to give me a scare.

Twas the night before Christmas...
i stop and i ponder
the things in life of which
i hate, and grow fonder.

The love of my family
such security there,
and yet here is where i oft
feel most despair.

The bonding of friends
a warming embrace,
and yet they can give you
a slap in the face.

The outstretching future
so clear and so bright,
and yet all i see
is a dark endless night.

Twas the night before Christmas...
i tell my reflection,
you're part of a plan,
one which needs no projection.

You surely can't see all
or all purpose find,
pray for what ails you,
in body and mind.

Twas the night before Christmas...
retorting i say,
i cannot see 'fore me
and i cannot pray.

I abhor my blindness
i curse my weak will,
Forever i feel bound
to here suffer still.

Twas the night before Christmas...
a divine palm slapped me,
a Godly foot kicked me,
celestial hands grabbed me.

I can't rid myself
of what boils within,
i can't reach inside me
and tear out my sin.

I can't control people
i can't control she
i can control how
i let Him control me.

Twas the night before Christmas...
and i sit in shame,
how could i ever
have denied His name?

How many times
must i wander away,
and let him pick me up
and I'll finally stay?

Tomorrow i want
to think of Him solely,
as i sing as i speak
may he keep the day holy.

It's easy to become
a sad lonely person
who finds Christmas dismal,
and lets each year worsen.

Twas the night before Christmas...
a little more peaceful
a little more joyful
a little more grateful

I find my self feeling
and i say without spite,
Merry Christmas to all
and to all a good night.

love, colleen(:

i"m Tried.

I have a humungous paper i should be typing...but i didn't want to leave that last post as the first thing people see here.
Ah, my grandfather. sweet guy.
It's been bitterly cold. At least, 50 degrees during the day is bitter for us spoilt Californians who are accustomed to waltzing around in our flip flops and tank shirts in the moddle of December.
I also can't type right now. I've had to correct nearly every word i've written so far.
I'm going to type the rest of this without correction. Just an experiment. Bear with me.
So my family and i are now the proud owners of...bum bum bum bum...an artificial cChristmas tree. When i faound ytout we were getting one, i put up quite a fuss. I admit it. For my entire life wwe've always had a real tree in opur homwe! But i fina,lly gave in and journeyed to Stats with mom and Sarah to buy our imitation tree.
Well, turns out we have a really gorgeous fake tree that we are free to pose however we please, and we don't have to worry abiut water, pine needles, the puppy tearing off branches...and now that mom and i have decorated it so lovellyly ( i did that on purpose), it really looks real! I just miss the smell.
Been practising for the show coming up on Friday...should be awesome. At Beantown...Sierra Madre...California...
You were lucky id idn't have a really bad typing night. it's been worse...muh worse.
The other night Pip and i went to trtader Joes to buy non alcoholic wine...much toi the amusement of the employees there. The checker said he didn't even know they sold it.
Needless to say it was awful stuff. Pip said it couls grow on him...whicjh would be nice considering htere's now a nearly full bottle of it in his fridge. Maybe his mom can use it in her cooking. She makes excellent Pumpkin cheezy herby soup. Actually, i hope she doesn't use it.
I shpould really go now. This was comletely worthless.
That's okay>. (:

"It was by the Grace of God you didn't die last night."

Funny, how i knew something was wrong before i even opened the door.
Pip, Sarah and i got back from Amoeba last night and walked into the house to find my grandma hollering from her chair in the living room, and my mom and dad rushing back and forth. "He fell!!!! He-he-he's on the floor-oh, God, oh God...someone please get me up!!!!" my grandma was saying panicked and brokenly, trying miserably to push herself out of the chair, shaking and crying. "Mary Jane, you're not going anywhere," my dad came out and told her, "the last thing we need is you falling, too." My mom rushed out of the hall and passed us with a bloody towel in her hands. "He went right through the window," she said as she rushed by. "Could you guys get the dogs out of here??" my dad said to us. "Damn it damn it damn it!!!" my grandma shreiked.
This all happened within about 3 seconds.
Pip and Sarah went into the back of the house to pray as i ran around with my parents and my uncle (who was here visiting last night), trying to calm grandma down, get clean towels, and make room for the paramedics who were streaming throught the door. Huge men in fire uniforms crowded around my grandpa, who was sitting on a chair in the bathroom, my mom cradling his head in her arms, pressing a cloth to his temple. She was crying.
"was he aware when you found him?"
"do you have any neck pain?"
"did you get dizzy?"
"what were you doing when you fell?"
I went back to the living room. My grandma was standing up, supported by one of the paramedics. "I know him, and i need to be in there. They would not get me up! They don't care! I need to know! They just left me here, and did what they wanted to do. I have a right! They always do this! She's so authoratative. She never listens to me. I need to talk to his doctor. i hope they're taking him to huntington. They're taking him there, right? He was a doctor there, you know. A very good one. we know a lot of doctors there. It's where we always go. Oh, Colleen! will you get me over there?"
Keep in mind, that was the condensed version.
I told her NO! we're not dealing with you right now! Please sit down and be QUIET! Then my dad came out. Grandma continued to yell at me as i walked away. I went back to the bathroom as they took him out, his head wrapped up in gauze and a brace around his neck. As they cleared the doorway, i looked into the bathroom and saw the head-shaped hole in the middle of one of the panes of glass lining the wall, cracks going out on all sides, shards and blood smeared on the floor. I could hear my grandma and my dad hollering out in the living room. Grandpa was put onto a gurney. Grandma kept yelling inanely. They covered him with a tarp so he wouldn't get wet (it was raining), and rolled him into the entryway where Grandma was waiting, trembling, with her walker.
"You come home to me, okay?" She said weakly.
He paused for a moment, his bandaged head looking up at the ceiling,"What else can I do?" he said softly back to her.
My mom bent over him and said, "I just want you to know, I love you, dad." as she kissed his cheek.
And they rolled him out.
Dad and my uncle went behind them to the hospital.
My mom made my grandma dinner, and prepared plates to take to dad &c.
Imagine grandma's fury when she found out they weren't taking him to huntington.
"It's CLOSED, grandma. They're not accepting people!"
"WELL CALL THEM AND TELL THEM WHO HE IS!!!!!"
yea.
The yelling didn't stop. My grandma went on to accuse my mother of being nasty, authoritative, selfish...I won't even write about that. I yelled too. My grandma sobbed in my mom's arms by the end of it.
Mom left. Pip and i decided to continue with our plans to meet Kristina and her friend for dinner, even though i had completely lost my appetite. Sarah stayed home to be with Grandma.

Pip and i arrived at the resteraunt about five minutes earlier than when we had decided to meet, around 8:00. So we told the hostess we'd wait for them to get there, about 5 minutes. I was still shaking, a bit bewildered and not looking forward to having to act happy to see two people i'd rather not have to deal with at the moment. But we waited. We talked. 10 minutes passed, 15, 20, 25...we tried calling her, but she didn't pick up. We told the hostess that we'd go ahead and sit down. As we sat there, Andrew called me and told me some new phrases he had learned in Italian. He was genuinely excited. It made me laugh. After about 10 more minutes we ordered food. I didn't really want to eat anything, but i also didn't want to be rude and be the only one not eating. We were at a resteraunt, after all.
When we were about half way done, and wondering if they would even come at all, they walked in the front door, and saw us. Stina walked over with a guilty smile on her face, "sorry we're late." She said.
That was all.
Stina introduced Pip to...her friend...and they sat down. We handed them menus. oh, no thanks. They were'nt going to eat, they said. There was an akward pause. I stared at my plate full of food i didn't want. "Maybe we should have met at a coffee shop or something," i stated and looked at Kristina. She shrugged, and ordered an iced tea.
The next 20 minutes were spent in scattered conversation, forced laughter, and lots of staring at food and sipping our water. I drank a lot of water.
Stina ate some of my rice and i had the rest packed up. We paid. They left. Pip and i sat there for a minute for no reason, really, and then we left.
As we drove to his house, i sat and played the night's various scenarios through my head. I worried about my grandpa. I worried about what this would mean for my family as my grandparent's can't be left alone. I thought about how tired my mom is. I worried about Kristina and her situation and tried not to think about how pissed off i was at her and instead think about how much i loved her. I worried about how behind i am in school...
Pip asked if i wanted to come in. I said sure. We goofed around on his music stuff for a while and he ate some Mochi. Around 11, i left. I think i left my food in his car.
When i got home, i helped grandma to the bathroom and had to tell her FIVE TIMES i didn't want to talk about grandpa, and the hospital, and how mean my mom was, before she finally shut up. Grandpa came home that night. With stitches and a new set of ground rules...he can't do anything without his walker anymore. No carrying things, no fiddling in the bathroom, no getting my grandma her pills...nothing. He's too unstable.
He and my mom yelled about it more this morning as she got him to wash himself. She told him she didn't care anymore if he didn't like her or not as long as he was safe. Because he should have been killed last night. "I was by the grace of God", she told him, that he got by with only four stitches and a banged up shoulder. I stayed home from church and helped her rearrange the tables to make things "walker accessible", and clean out their bathroom, do dishes, and tke care of our new dog (we got a puppy two days ago. A lovely little light in the misdt of the chaos!).
He's so sad. Just sad. Depressed. I don't blame him. He can't even do the little things anymore.
Ugh, i smell. I'm going to go take a shower.

I guess i should have sensed it in the air...

I was about to leave for work, in a bit of a hurry, and trying to take care of 3 things at once. Poor Beau had been inside all day every day for the last couple of weeks because of the heat, except to go to the bathroom or for the occasional frizbee toss. Not to mention the fact that grandpa seems to think that Beau can't be left alone outside for more than 5 minutes and is constantly calling him in. In the house he's always sure he's in the same room. If he can't see Beau he'll walk around calling him until he finds him, "Come on, Beau old boy, come over here."
Today was the first day it began to cool down, just a little bit, around 5 in the evening. Naturally, the dog should be outside...or so i thought.
And thus our fateful tale begins...

As she ran towards the front door, bags and younger sister in tow, she realized that the dog was still inside the stuffy smelly house. Loyally lying on the floor next to grandpa's chair, Colleen called him to get up. In a hurried voice she said,
"You know what? I'm going to put Beau out because he's not out enough and it's really nice outside."
As if someone had suggested giving him a lobotomy, her grandpa whipped around in his chair and waved his hand at her.
"No no no! He's fine leave him alone!"
"Grandpa he needs to be out more, he's inside way too much--"
Pointing at her with such force that his whole body lurched with his arm, he exclaimed, "NO NO NO! You leave him here!! I can take care of him God damn it!"
Not willing to give in she continued amidst his cries to the back door, "He needs to be out, grandpa, he's been hanging around the door all day," and she put Beau outside.
"How dare...DON"T YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!!!" He stuttered. " Jesus, that girl really get's on my nerves...!"
Fuming, yet refusing for once to engage, she called to him, "Well, you can be happy then because you'll be rid of me. I'm leaving." And she walked out of the kitchen.
Still seated, red-faced in his chair, he snapped as she walked past him, "GOOD! I'm GLAD to get rid of you when you act like that!!!"
He continued to yell as she approached the door, drowning out his wife's cries of protest.
Shaking, she opened it, let Sarah out and called to him, "Thank you grandpa, I love you."
"SHUT UP!!!!!"
And she closed the door behind her.

Lover's Spat

He heaved a weary sigh as he dropped himself into his chair at the dining room table. It was so hot outside and yet he was chilly enough in the house to be wearing a sweater; a result of the peculiar preferences of his obstinate son-in-law and ungrateful grandchildren. His wife sat just around the corner at the table next to him, still wearing her apron from breakfast 3 hours ago. As he looked searchingly around the surface before him, his weak eyes percieved a mess of piles and clutter that instantly frustrated him.
"What is all this, Mary?"
"Bills, John," she answered him absentmindedly. Her hand was shaking so terribly that she could hardly hold the envelope she was trying to open.
"What?"
"Bills, John, bills!" She said forcefully. "I've been going throught them all morning!"
"Well it's about time someone did," he grunted, shuffling papers all over the table. "There's too much stuff here all the time. Look at all this stuff!"
"Oh, John stop it you're messing up everything."
"I am not---What are you going to do with all this??"
"I'm trying to take care of it so Carol doesn't have to when she comes back."
"Why?"
"John, she's so busy! She has work, and she's been gone, and she'll have so much to do when she gets home..."
"But why are you doing it?"
"Because she's going to have all this to take care of when she get's back, along with everything else she has to do-"
"Well that's her problem."
"Yes, I suppose it is. I'm just trying to get it done for her."
He sighed. "Why?"
"Because, John, she's been gone for so long, and she'll be so tired-"
"I just don't see why you're doing this."
"I'm just trying to help. I used to do all of this for you when I could. I did all the secretarial work."
"And she had to go and take off..."
"John, she's working!! She works so hard, and she's going to have jet lag; horrible jet lag. I don't think you have any idea what that's like!"
He sighed again. "Oh nuts. Nuts to everyone."
"John stop it. Say something nice, will you?"
There was a pause. "I am nice," He replied. "All this crap. Look at all this crap!!!" And he began to rustle through the piles again.
"John, John...!" She exclaimed in a little half-laugh. As he began to chuckle, she regained herself and said sarcastically, "Ha ha."
"Ho ho ho," he said in a monotone voice. "Ho ho ho and a bottle of rum."
"Oh you're so funny."
He sat back with a grimace.
"I just don't know why you have to do anything about it."
"I don't, she just has so much to do."
"Then she shouldn't have gone off to Sydney!"
"But--John--she had to...!" She could hardly contain her agitation. "Damn it, John--John you're a fool right now, a fool!" Her petite frame trembled with pent-up frustration.
He merely gazed around the room. "You're not very nice to me, Mary," he said. "Not very nice at all."

~~~

Dear Mom

I decided to post this e mail i wrote to my mom this morning...

Well, if you ever feel at all unloved or not missed (which, of course, would be absurd), just think of good 'ol Beau. Mom, he is so pathetic without you here! He's always sitting with his head rested on your bed, wandering around looking for you...dad says that last night he just jumped onto your bed and layed there, looking depressed. Poor guy. ):

Sarah and I are really bummed because Our Art Center classes aren't held on the main campus! I was so excited that we were going to get to go to Art Center right by our house...but instead we're going to have to drive all the way down to the South of Raymond by the 110 freeway every week. I'm really not happy about that. Mom...school is going to drive me crazy this semester. I'm taking so many cool classes...but that's the problem in itself. I'm taking too many classes, all of which i want to do really well in and i can't see how I'm going to. I already have so much homework to do and i'm so distracted by everything going on around here; with g&g, trying to sort out their medication fiascos, making them meals, keeping an eye on grandma making sure she doesn't faint again, having to figure out who will be here at any given time, jumping up at the sound of grandpa's yelling, trying to keep this stupid room in order (which is like a full-time job in itself); Sarah and i are fighting more and more, my eating habits are slipping again, and i'm stuck in this mental limbo trying to be "content" and not complain, and feeling like i'm going to explode every time i tell people i'm fine, and that living here is just "a laugh a minute!". Because i want to be joyful in my situation and i want to overcome my mental blocks i slam into when i get stressed out, but i just don't feel like i can and it's scaring me to death...because if there's any time i need to do it, it's now.
Why can't one thing happen at a time? Then maybe i could handle it...i don't know.
I'm sorry for unloading on you. I just didn't know what else to say. As much as i wish it otherwise, this is really all that's occupying my mind these days, aside from the worrying about where my life is going, and what the heck i'm going to do with myself next year. But that's besides the point :
I guess things can't always be peaceful, but i can still find peace. i feel so strange typing that because it's such an unreal concept to me. I wish i'd stop getting so caught up in myself.

Grandpa is arguing with grandma right now about...water. He wants her to drink the tap water. she doesn't want to she wants to drink the drinking water. But the tap water is just as good but she wants the drinking water "oh why don't you stop complaining???" Dad just went out there...
Sarah is telling me how much grandpa drives her nuts

But what i said in the long, rambling paragraph still stands, unfortunately, for the time being. I don't know what's worse...not knowing how to make something better, or knowing how, but feeling so incapable of doing it...?

Feel blessed you are away and taking a break in in a new, beautiful place! I told Pip's mom you were in Sydney and she knew it would be lovely there right now. I'm so glad you don't have to be here, as much as we all miss you...which is one of the reasons i feel bad about telling you all this. I hope you're having a wonderful time. I wish i could have talked to you for more than a few minutes on the phone! Tell me how the job is going, and what kinds of interesting things you've gotten into.
I love you...
love, colleen(:

A lost child...

He just wanders, knowing what he's looking for, yet knowing he can't find it. He drives himself crazy, he makes himself nervous. He's too hot, he's too cold, am i too cold? Are you sure? He's weary, he's confused...Why does he keep walking around? He can't stand up. He can't remember anything, after two minutes on the phone he doesn't know who he's talking to. Is Nena here? Am i here? He keeps calling me to make sure i'm there. Please don't fall again! He asks me over and over when she's coming home. And yet again, when he forgets. Now what exactly happened? tell me again...again...again...She'll be okay!

I'm just trying not to think about how tired i am.
One really gets on a role when they're discontent and given free space and time to express themselves, no?
I'm sorry these posts are so dismal! I hate writing when i'm upset.