A phenomenon that fascinates me:
Presque vu

A conversation I found myself involved in involving this topic:

Unimportant character: “What’s that movie with drew Barrymore… the really old one”

Me: “I don’t know, what’s it about?”

UC: “I don’t know like she wants to be a writer… gets pregnant… I don’t know it’s like really old”

Me: “……”

Me: “S***, this is going to bother me”

Me: “Wait, I know it”

UC: “What is it?”

Me: “Hold on I’m thinking…. I know I know this… um….

God damnit what’s the name…

It’s on the tip of my tongue…. ”

…………..


UC: “Wait, never mind I got it! Riding in Cars With Boys”

Me: “S***”

Something that happened when I was 13:
My mother wouldn’t let me go see it

Something my mother confronted me about in eighth grade:
Me gaining weight

What I did in response:
Hated her

Why I was wrong:
Because I was wrong

My most prized possession:
My teddy bear snowball. Society says I’m far too old to have him—but I do. At night he sleeps with me, tucked securely under my left arm; swiftly positioned over his white powdered skin. When I was in third grade I received him from a classmate-Katie Meyers-at my birthday party where everyone sat around and watched me opened presents with a fat grin laced across my cake-filled cheeks. When I flew to Ireland with my mom in fifth grade Aerlingus baggage claim made an error in judgment and I never saw my purple Jansport again.
Snowball was inside.
I didn’t sleep for weeks.
Two months after arriving home Katie gave me another Snowball.

Something that’s not an issue in my life:
Thinking of witty comebacks

Something that is an issue in my life:
Thinking of them when I need them

Why I am generally a problematic child:
I don’t know how to say sorry

9:15 p.m. Sept. 7, voice mail message left by my mother:
Its 9:30 and you haven’t checked in, I don’t want to have to keep tracking you down. Please call me and let me know where you are and how you’re getting home. Soon? Thank you.

10:30 p.m. Sept. 7, voice mail message left by my mother:
You call me right now. It’s almost 11:00 and I haven’t heard from you once. I’m not playing phone tag anymore, you call me right now or I will find you and your butt will be grounded for life.

11:45 p.m. Sept. 7, voice mail message left yet again by my mother:
Its 12:00. You’re dead.

Something my mother forgot:
Voice mails record the time

Accurate assumption #1:
My mother is overbearing

Accurate assumption #2:
I screen phone calls

Repressed memory of my childhood:
Running into my parents’ bedroom and leaping onto the bed next to my mother. Her wrapping her arms around me and snuggling in close. Her planting a kiss on my left temple and my head softly being pushed in the fluffy pillow.

Something my dad said to me today:
You and your mom fight too much

Why this made me think:
We do

Part of a lecture I heard while transcending during my fifth period history class:
“And that’s exactly what Ghandi preached guys. You can’t keep hanging your head or getting pissed off every time it’s not going your way. You gotta step up. And forgiveness is where it all begins. Forgiveness is a virtue of the Brave—you take one message away from him, take that.”

Something a friend said to me when I mentioned my new crash diet:
“Damn, that’s brave.”

Am I actually brave?
No.


Two weeks ago driving somewhere I don’t remember with my mother:
As she sang along to Augstana’s, Boston-of which she was never familiar with until I played seventy four times in one week-I hit the middle button and the car went silent. She kept singing. I looked at her and laughed, hoping I had humorously embarrassed her. She laughed along with me.

Fifteen minutes after this:
Some topic led to another topic which led to another topic which led to a fight.

Urban Dictionaries thoughts on the topic of Presque vu:
The intense feeling of being at the brink of an epiphany. An extremely frustrating experience, since a breakthrough never arrives and you are left without it, hopelessly dreaming it will show itself to you. A “tip of the tongue” sensation.

What is always on the tip of my tongue:
Forgiveness.

Main reason for hostility towards the idea of forgiveness:
My Cousin was killed in a car accident. My cousin I would very much like to still have.

Note I found on the counter when I came home from practice:
“Had to stay with your Aunt again tonight. Dinner in the freezer. Please get all your homework done and no issues about getting up in the morning!
Smiley Face.
Mom.”

List of things I discovered while making my own dinner for the fourth night in a row:
I can actually do things for myself.
Bertoli’s Chicken Florentine and Farfalle is surprisingly delicious.
Bertoli’s Chicken, Rigatoni and Broccoli is not.
Adults think they know everything.

Reason I regret the introduction to the previous line:
I have the best mother in the world. She carries burdens I could not.

Something I said out loud during fifth period history the other day:
I don’t think forgiveness is possible.

Why this was incredibly weird of me:
I have never spoken in that class before.
Ever.

Letter I wrote to my mother while transcending during eighth period religion:
Hey Mom-

There’s really no urgent need for me to tell you this but I’m sitting in eighth period religion and I thought I’d give this a whirl. Also this type of thing-ya know me not paying attention and all-might explain my D- but I’ll keep writing anyways. Sorry about not caring about anything. Well, sorry for being so problematic really. See I kind of have this problem with putting myself in other people’s shoes. So I don’t know, I just don’t think anyone else is angry all the time except me.

Sorry for not knowing how to say sorry too. Another fault of mine.

The other day in English we were talking about our favorite family memories and well they had us do this exercise thing where you had to recall your favorite memory with one of your parents. Well I went ahead and made a column for you and dad and listed all my favorite memories. Me and dad racing in the pool when I was younger. All the walks me and him took in the woods. Then I got to your column. I know we have a lot of good memories. I do. But I couldn’t sort through them cause they were all kind of distant. The only recent ones I had were of us fighting.

Well anyways I’m sorry for a lot of thing but thanks. For everything really. I just have a hard time admitting stuff I guess. Forgiveness is always just on the tip of my tongue; I swear.
P.S. love you
P.P.S. you make the best egg sandwhiches in the world

Reason I will never give this letter to my mother:
Because I have too much pride.
Because I don’t know how to say sorry.
Because I am not brave.

Something that happened while driving in the car with my mother today:
My feeble attempt at mocking the very voice tone of Tom Petty during Free Falling was interrupted by mother hitting the middle button and the car going silent.

Our response:
I was embarrassed.
And we laughed.