121.

i had to get rid of my other computer. On it, were a series of photos, as well as some other things, im sure.

i have 121 photos left. labeled: Pics Copy2, because I guess the first batch did not include the entire set.

I have 121 photos and blurry, dimming memories. I have court papers and a file of letters that I eventually stopped writing because she said they were silly, or inadequate, or both. They were. I guess. As am i, most of the time: silly and inadequate.

but stick me in front of an equation, and im a star! I used to believe in that because its what i knew. The game is different now, at the Ivy. I questioned even that for a time; I questioned the only thing I thought I ever knew, for a time. All it took, continues to take, is really hard work. I made the cut last semester, honors, despite the momentary, fully invasive, doubt. This semester is much more trying; and i never sleep or see my friends. Sometimes I forget what I look like. This morning I was surprised to see my reflection (me, really?) in the bathroom mirror on campus. it was the first time i looked in the mirror today.

even I am getting tired of feeling so sorry, staying so sorry, so immobile, about the entire thing. But I am afraid that even really hard work wont make it all pan out. I am afraid that whatever I do will not produce adequate results.

my mother stopped my father from seeing us (i think?). there were court orders and vicious words, invective deeds. he wrote letters, too. i cherished every one and had forgotten that until now.

and then there is the question of the damage that could result. will i grow weary again? will the 600 miles and 600$ on top of the drive and the schoolwork and julian and me on my own this time be too much. I feel like it...i feel like i know what i see in julians eyes, like i know why sometimes he cries over silly, silly things.

The other day: he asked to play with his new friend Austin. I made friends with a girl who has a little boy close in age to Julian. We went out for his birthday and they hit if off well. When I told him Austin was staying home with his daddy he cried. I could not console him. Tears were streaming down his face, tears tears tears.

he does this thing

what a terrible coward I am. I am afraid that this shanty little barrier ive constructed will fall, all the time.

last month, i put up curtains. They are heavy and long and very, very white. I made the rushed mistake of not using wall anchors and so a week later when i returned to my place, i found the right side of the rods gripping for dear life, to the wall. the curtains and the rods were a single tug from the devastation of collapse. i have been too busy, still, to take all of the bare screws out and replace them with anchors and so the right side is still droopy, even as I look at them now. in fact, gravity is pulling, very slowly, the curtains down every day.

the point, is this. I am so careful with the rod. gingerly, i open the curtains for day; and gingerly, i replace them at night. i barely exert any pressure at all. i keep julian clear of the window and dont come near with the vacuum, lest me lifting them will be enough to cause the tumble...or worse yet, the vacuum could suck them from the wall.

but, they are going down anyway. they are not installed properly and it is only a matter of time, really.

they are going down anyway. slowly. almost unnoticeably.

but surely.

as am i. going down. slowly,

but surely.

and i am still too cowardice (or too busy, or too lazy, or too parylyzed) to properly install- to do it the right way- lest too much pressure in the wrong direction cause the whole damn poorly installed mess to tumble.

and this note: i did not do it improperly because I was trying to cut corners. I simply just didnt know what I was doing. i actually thought i was doing it right, thought i was quite clever to remember that windows are normally framed out, with wood...the very wood i would be screwing into that would allow me to use only screws and not anchors.

i was wrong

as often i am

and then i am too 'fraidy-cat to take it all down and start over.

....right. and the thing he does, reminds me of this almost every single day. it is a cruel and fitting irony. one i deserve. one i hope will motivate me to take it all down and do it right, even if i have to take more than a couple of stabs at it.

silence.

Mum "K/Half Noise"

do i forget that she has happened? now she will have family complete- more complete than before sibling. This creates greater bond between step-mom and step-daughter: the little child with the common gene.

Do i erase the photos on my computer, get rid of the baby book I still have? Do I delete the stories and burn the files? Do i stop talking about her? stop remembering? pretend that julian looks nothing like her? pretend he does not act like her sometimes; even laugh the way she did/does/doesn't anymore.

Do i still stand a chance? How do you go back after so long? How do you make amends and face the inevitable criticism and cruel look? such things have always been my greatest fear.

will I always be such a coward?

why is it that all i can do is cry? so defeatist. disgraceful.

cry cry cry

why have i convinced myself that this is best when i wish more than anything my own absent parent hadnt done the same? y have i turned out like him, as far as she goes?

why did you have to make it so hard for me to overcome- so easy to slip away from? why was it so easy to slip away from?

......

julian holds my hand when we eat dinner, cross the street, slip into sleep.

sees her old toddler-sized shoes and asks. see her photo in my keychain and asks. randomly...asks. and i have nothing credible to say, nothing that doesnt sound incredibly and unfathomably fake. nothing to say that i am proud of.

i know what this will feel like in years. i also know that what i believe it will feel like is nothing compared to what will actualize.

being a doctor will mean nothing. becoming a better person will mean nothing the way that I used to rationalize it would. because i see my son, and feel how he holds my hand- everywhere and all the time. I hear how he tells me that he "miss[es] me all the time", how hes "so glad [im] here". all he cares about are the backyardigan books i read 30 times in one sitting and the boo-boo kisses and help with the potty; the birthday wishes and city adventures. and all i care about anymore is that i cook better when he helps and the laundry is only fun if he puts the quarters in. my favorite day is saturday because we make pancakes and play in snow. dr. or mrs., ms. or miss. its the pancakes and the snow, and nothing in between.

i dont know how to be less of a terrible coward. i am grateful that you are so fabulous for her because I am so obviously not. all i can do is cry and beat my chest....this takes absolutely no strength. strength, in such respects, is something i very truly have none of. (I suppose this can also be categorized into character.) it is embarrassing, but also wholly true.

congratulations on the baby.

well (double-sigh)

she's fucking up. Fucking it alllllll up, fuckity-fuck fuck up. i just have absolutely no idea what I am doing. Not a clue. its like walking around completely blind. handicapped but i dont get to use the parking spaces at the front of the lot or the convenient on- ramp through the secret side doors. There are no allowances for my handicap- my great and unavoidable type of retardation. People like me are not helped, not even pitied. People like me are only judged and dismissed and yelled at. people like me are deemed capable yet crudely inconsiderate. People like me end up in corners crying, clawing at hardwood floors and bathroom tiles after the fight that they've led ends up in ruins.

He said this to me two years after we met, "When I first met you, i thought you were a pathological liar. I thought that there was no way that everything happened to you the way you said, that so much could be happening to one person."

And i replied, "And now?"

And he said, blankly, "I can't believe you're still standing."

I hold on to that. I remember it often. Jonas said that he "just can't believe all of the things I say happen to me sometimes."

(but, jonas, you lived with me. you know what an entire clusterfuck my life is.dont u remember?)

this week ended with:
a midterm near-failure
a flat tire (on the new tire I just replaced two months ago)
broken windshield wipers (while driving in the rain)
the drop out of an important research group member= increased work load
a cut shift (yet again)
3 papers due by wednesday (due to syllabus changes in 2 classes)
financial aid readjustment
most of all: the god damn 1 train makes it impossible to get to campus inside of an hour!!!! (F!)