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| How do you measure...measure a year? 2002, April 16 - 10:44 a.m.
Happy birthday Jamie and happy birthday diary. Today is one my year anniversary of the day I started writing. I have 275 entries to date. It would have been really cool if I had 365 but in the beginning I wasn't a very regular writer. When I started writing, I was confused about feelings for an ex byofriend named Matt. I then found out he was gay. I was left to sort out my feelings for the boyfriend I was with, whom I had started seeing on the rebound. It took awhile but I realized that I loved him. He came with me to my high school formal (which many call the prom) and I had a wonderful time. It wasn't the formal I had always envisioned having but it was memorable. Brent's formal was interesting in its own right. Over the summer I worked a lot and sorted out my feelings; towards my Dad, Brent and the death of my mother. I also occupied my time being cupid for Catholic. When college came around, it was a little intimidating but I quickly got used to it and the freedom it brought. I could go anywhere I wanted without notice. And I went to Toronto more than once. I was able to keep in touch with Ella as well thorugh these trips. However, just because one is away from their family and family problems does not mean one is safe from them. Phones and internet kept the communication flowing though I had little desire to be pulled back into their mess. I was free, I didn't want to deal with their negativity and drama at all. I also wasn't free from my mom. Just because I am away from her grave doesn't mean that I don't think about her all the time. She shows up in my dreams. I don't want to be free of her memory, but the pain never really goes away. I also went through some self exploration to figure out if Illustration is really what I want to do for the rest of my life. In the end I decided journalism is my future and art was just a hobby. I still don't know how I feel about this. I feel comfortable... I know that but I still haven't sorted out my feelings of having left art after a lifetime of wanting it. At least I have a full lifetime ahead of me to get used to the idea. I turned 19 this year. I finally felt more like an adult. You can't help but feel like a youngin' when you go somewhere and are not old enough to buy alcohal. You can't help but feel young when you aren't old enough to do anything fun. Too bad my birthday wasn't as fun as I had hoped. Partly due to my family brushing it aside completely and being drawn in to their almost daily battles. I have come to the conclusion, this past year, that Dad was never meant to be a parent. But I understand that he tries. At least he's still here. My cousin's dad died this spring. I can understand their pain a little too well. And now edging up to the one year mark I feel a little older, a little more experienced and a little more prepared to live with my family, after having had the chance to know what a normal life is like without them. I have my friends, Brent and my Aunt. I'm sure all will be fine. Thank You - 2006, June 7
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