Wednesday, August 18, 2004

The last leg of the trip: I heart NY!

Start Spreading the News…
I don’t think it ever occurred to me just how much of an artistic Mecca NYC is until I visited. Every time I turned around there was a street name I recognized from a movie or a bridge from a song or a building from TV!
I felt immediately like someone returning home after being away for a very long time. I could see myself moving there some day after Darian is grown. It was amazing, such a great vibe.

We stayed in Manhattan on the 15th floor of a pretty nice hotel only a few blocks from Time Square. The first night we were totally jet lagged but we still wanted to explore.
We dropped our things off at the hotel and met with Joe and Jody. (Side note, Jody Stephens gets better looking as he gets older and he was pretty good looking when he was young, he is also the nicest guy ever!)

We wandered around looking for a place to eat; we managed to get up to TS where things were bright and hopping. It was fun, but I was feeling a bit delirious at this point as we were in a completely different time zone. At one point I reached out to hold Jon’s hand and realized that the guy who was attached to the hand wasn’t Jon, that is when I said I was probably too tired to be wandering in TS.

Not a moment too soon, the guys found a cute little Italian spot that served family style and had funny portraits of celebs on the wall. The food was yummy and surprisingly inexpensive for uptown on a Friday night! It was packed so the noise level was high, but I didn’t mind. We carb loaded on Pasta and salad and grabbed a cab back to the hotel.

The hotel bed was like sleeping on a cloud after the hard mattresses of Barcelona. I was out like a light and slept as soundly as I ever have.

I woke up early the next day. Jon wanted to take some time to lie around and watch some tube, and we were both pretty exhausted from all of the walking in Spain. He tends to be that way just before a big show too, like he is getting himself mentally prepared or something.

I took advantage of his down time and went to get a manicure and pedicure. It was heaven to get a foot rub after all of the walking. I found a cute little place around the corner and spent the whole time chatting with some amazingly friendly New Yorkers.
I don’t think I have ever had that much conversation in a Seattle salon, people mostly keep to themselves. The New York ladies just wanted to talk about everything. It reminded me of those old movies with all of the ladies gossiping in the salon, I loved it!

I went back to the hotel all polished and got ready for my day of rock. We went down to meet the guys and found a stretch limo waiting for us. They took us to the concert, which had already been going most of the day from what I could tell.

The best part of the ride in the limo is when we got there. The security lady walked up to the driver’s window:
“I need to know where Big Star’s trailer is.” He asked
She says, “Yes, we’ve got all of the Big Stars back here, but what band are you with?”
Too funny.

There was a whole lot in back with a trailer for every act. It was pretty cool. Ken and Dom and baby were already there. I immediately commandeered Aden. She is the sweetest little baby ever! I had the best time with her. She has a great disposition! Meeting her in person was the highlight of my trip for sure!
At one point I held her up to face Jon and said, “Say Hi to Uncle Jon.” he said Hello and she gave him the biggest cutest toothless smile. That girl is a flirt!

We walked over to the backstage tent area and the amount of star power mingling back there would have literally made any music-philes head spin.
I just kept hearing the guys say, “That is blah blah blah from blah band!” They all seemed pretty impressed.
Since Big Star and Bo Diddley were really the only people on the bill I cared about, I was pretty un-phased and I would not have known one from the other really. They mostly dressed like the patrons of any Seattle rock club.

When Bo D came back and sat next to me is when I got my warm and fuzzies. He is not only one of the most talented men alive today; he is one of the kindest. When we were talking and he shook my hand I totally got the warm fuzzies you get when you are talking to your grandpa or something. He posed with Aden and I for a couple of shots. He would not hold the baby because he said he had a cold, but that didn’t stop him from being completely charming!

The Strokes were popping around backstage. I recognized them from seeing their faces everywhere. I thought it was funny that they were driven in a little golf cart the 20 feet from their trailer to the stage area, like they were too big to walk or something? It was hilarious seeing them breezing by all dog piled on a little cart.

The shows were great; Iggy Pop was insane, The Strokes played too long and Big Star not long enough. Nancy Sinatra is REALLY short and only had one really good song and Bo Diddley stole the show in my personal opinion.

After Big Star played, Jody and Jon and I were hanging out and Jody got a call. MTV wanted to do a quick interview. We didn’t know where the other guys were, so we wandered across the lawn to meet the crew.

Kurt Loder was there waiting. Now what was crazy for me is, had I seen him walking down the street, I would have never recognized him. It was only when he started talking that I knew who it was.

He sits down with Jon and Jody and the cameras start rolling. The first question out of his mouth proves to me he has no idea what he is talking about:
KL- So tell me, why do people love Big Star so much?
What? How many years has he been doing this? Anyhow, the guys were great; they managed to be eloquent without being too wordy. At some point this social reject that probably jumped the fence to get back stage looked over and realized there was an interview going on. He started to get this gnarly look on his face and then start yelling stupid stuff like “Have some f**king self respect!” and so on.

What an idiot.

I was getting very upset with him, but his little outburst was being ignored as much as possible. Had he not been directly behind the guys and the camera I would have gone over and yelled at him, instead I waited until the interview was over. Jon asked how it went, I said good and said “Hold on.”
I marched over and told the guy that he was rude and he had to leave. (I worded it differently I am sure, but I remained a lady about it.) He told me to F*** off, but he did leave with his crew of merry makers.

Jon said that they could not hear him, they were too focused and the type of mics they were using probably prevented him from being recorded. That is good.
Some people just should not be let out.

After the show they had a water Taxi set up for the talent. It wasn’t crowded at all and was the best way to see New York at night. We went all the way up the East River in the water taxi. The night was warm with a light sprinkle. Everyone was awestruck by the beauty of our little 20 minute voyage, you could see everything from the water!
When we were dropped off there was a taxi waiting. We stopped by the hotel and cleaned up and then we went to a cute little bar with Joe and Gavin. On accident Joe invented a new drink that Jon ordered a second one of it was so good! It was raspberry Vodka, Ginger ale and a shot of Cranberry juice. It tastes like Hawaiian Punch. It was fabulous!

The next day we had breakfast and headed over to our friends Gavin’s place. He was in charge of a huge flat right next to the Met off of Madison Ave. It was beautiful. We lounged around and played music and watched a great interview on Bravo with the incredibly talented Robin Williams and called it an early eve.

We were totally exhausted at this point. The next day we got up had breakfast in a real New York diner and caught some sights. We wandered around Greenwich Village and hit Radio City Music Hall, then we went to the AP to come back home.

I am so sad that Gavin doesn’t live in Seattle anymore because he is such a great guy, but he seems to be happy, so I will be happy for him. At least now we have reasons to visit! And visit we will, as soon as possible! I now understand the “I heart New York” shirts!

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

The flight to New York

Well our trip to New York started with leaving Barcelona and that one day adventure deserves a story all of it's own.
The flight from Barcelona to Amsterdam was great, everything went smoothly; the people were nice, we pretty much relaxed and enjoyed our short flight.

When we reached Amsterdam is when it all started. We only had 40 minutes to get through passport control and from one end of the AP to the other. This would have not been such a big deal if at every one of those escalator type ground thingies that you are supposed to use to help you go faster, people didn’t have their ENTIRE families spread wide across them and would not let us through.

In fact one guy got so mad that Jon pushed his way through that he practically close lined me after him and it took quite a bit of convincing in several broken languages to get him to step aside. Even though it CLEARLY reads that if you are standing you stand to one side, in all sorts of languages.

Then we get to the gate and the plane is delayed 2 hours. Wonderful, so we decide that after a week of food that we were not totally used to a McDonalds burger is sounding quite yummy all of a sudden.

We go up to order and the guy who I was ordering from was totally rude and then just sort of danced around for ten minutes and got my order all wrong. Also, they charge 35 cents per Ketchup pack there. For those of us who love the stuff, that is pretty steep!

This would have not bothered me so much if it was not for what happened next.

After we get finished eating, I decide to use the restroom before we head back to our terminal. Jon says he wants to look in the wine shop. So I head over on my own.
Some guy who looked like he was an Airport cleaning person was just finishing up cleaning the bathrooms and was on his way out with his trolly when I was heading in.
He said, “Hello Lady.” In a thick accent and turned around and followed me back into the restroom.
They had pretty private doors, and while in Spain I got pretty used to the men being in the ladies washroom for hand washing, so I didn’t think too much of it.
When I stepped out of the stall to wash my hands, he was sitting on a bench waiting. I walk over to wash my hands and he starts to spritz the Windex with his spray bottle in my direction and says, “Oooh, sexy sexy …” spray spray, “You are sexy sexy..”

I rushed out and told Jon. It sort of turned into our running joke for the rest of the trip. It totally gave me the creeps though.

Then we were placed behind the rudest family of freaks ever on the VERY long flight from Amsterdam to New York. Jon described them as “Just some people should never reproduce” and that was about it.
These people were horrible and rude and loud and literally complained about EVERYTHING to the stewardess. It makes me tense just thinking about it so I won’t go into it, let’s just say, it was unpleasant.

Jon assures me that Amsterdam is nothing like our whole bad AP experience and that I should not let it color my opinion.

On a good note- I did buy some really great Siroopkoeken there. I have decided any country that can make these MUST be a great place! I only wish they sold them here, we are absolutely addicted and only have a few left. I will have to find a place we can order them online!

Monday, August 16, 2004

A Note from NY about Spain...

I am using a computer that is not snail speed! I can hardly believe my luck. We are in New York right now, it is our last day and we return home this eve. I am going to try to talk about our trip, but since I was not able to deal with the "business center" at the hotel in Spain because they had email that was as slow as snail mail, I am way behind.
One thing I noticed about Spain is that a lot of things are really small. The small things that bothered me the most were the teeny coffees (and I don't give a rats behind what anyone says about how coffee is SO MUCH stronger in Spain, SO not true if you live in Seattle, it wasn't until New York that I got decent coffee!)
The TINY elevators, there were several times that I had to get off the elevator even when it wasn't my stop because people would try to get on. It says there was room for six, but only if you were to stand front to butt! It had a low ceiling too so it was like a coffin. People there are used to them, so they don't seem to mind. I avoided them as often as I could.
And lastly the soda. Jon and I drink a lot of Diet coke. We like our Diet coke, it is good stuff. No matter where you go in Barcelona, you can't find fountain soda to save your life! All they offer are tiny glass bottles of coca cola light, many times we ordered two for a meal and they were spendy. They one place with large sodas charged five Euros a glass!

Those were the little differences that bothered me, but those were few compared to the amazing things we did see!

We took a two hour train ride out to Figueres and went to the Dali museum. If you have never done this and you get the chance you must do this. We had time to read the history of Dali a bit and it was very interesting. The man was seriously obsessed with his wife Gala, and it would not surprise me if some day they went through that fun house of a museum and found there to be bodies entombed in the walls. (I mean outside of his of course) It was all pretty spectacular. Jon said it was probably his favorite sight seeing adventure of the trip. On our way there we were so engrossed in conversation we took the train one stop too far and had the chance to explore a small village before turning around. That was actually pretty cool too. We had a little snack and checked out a pretty cool cathedral in the time we had. In Figueres we had the best food of the trip, we went to this little pizza place and it was amazing. I know "pizza in Spain" but we were both convinced it was the best.

We went back to the Barcelona Cathedral two times we were so impressed with it. Neither of us were too impressed with the Gaudi cathedral. To me it seemed like a monument to someone insanity, it didn't really move me in a way that the cathedral in the square did. We actually ended up taking a few shots of the Gaudi one and moving on pretty quickly through it. Some people just love it, but it wasn't as striking to either of us as we had thought it might be.

We had a really nice time for the most part, it was hot and beautiful. We learned that everyone in Spain goes on holiday in August so a LOT of places are closed, NOTHING is open on Sunday or Monday, the Euro has made everything there super expensive in the last five years, so your Euro doesn't go far, and the cars drive really fast and REALLY close to one another!

That is my take on Spain for the morning. I will try to get on writing about New York next, which has been amazing! I almost wish we would have had more time in NY and less time in Spain to be honest, but the trip was great none the less. I think 6 days is the perfect amount of time to visit Barcelona.

Sunday, August 08, 2004

A note from Spain...

Well we are in Spain, so far so good.
It has actually been pretty great. We walked around so much yesterday my poor feet are killing me. The dowsides..
Well, our luggage seems to be taking holiday in Amsterdam still so last night we hit the mall and bought some new clothes, it is like 90 degrees and I have no interest in wearing the same clothes, especially undies for three days! GROSS!
So in the mean time, we bought stuff and are hoping our luggage shows today. It has been interesting roughing it. I didn't bring any make up onthe plane with me so I have been going without, something I can't say I have done in ten years, it is weird, I feel naked, also both Jon and I packed our contacts and wore our glasses, so needless to say we are a VERY glam couple the last few days! haha!
Everyone seems really nice. They either speak enough English or us enough Spanish to make due.

The computer in the hotel is SLOWER than snail snot, so that sucks!

The hotel breakfast buffet is the bomb!
Yesterday I went to a cathedral and cried because it was so beautiful then I went and met Picasso's work up close and in person. I touched his brush stroke, even though you really are not supposed to, but now I can say I have. It was moving, and inspiring. I bought a print of my favorite peice.

Today we are going to catch a train and go to the Dali museum. Hopefully our luggage is also enjoying it's holiday! Maybe it will decide to join us today?

Monday, February 23, 2004

What it means to die...

I remember the first time I really understood what it means to die.

I was about six years old. My father was taking my brother deer hunting for the first time. He was not old enough to shoot yet, but the men would take the kids with them early to get them familiar with their surroundings. It is something they had been doing for generations.
Being the only girl with three brothers, and right in the middle in age, I was one of the very few girls allowed to go to target practice and learn to shoot a bow. I would put up such a fight when my dad would try to go with the boys and leave me behind. I didn’t understand the differences in the sexes then, I only understood that my father was punishing me for being a girl. I hated being different than my brothers. After much insistence on my part he finally just gave in and brought me along.
Eventually hunting season came. The men were gearing up for a long weekend camping and hunting trip. My brother was given his very own bow. My mom bought him a new orange hunting jacket and cap. I asked her where mine was.
“Honey, this trip is only for the boys.” She explained
“But it isn’t fair!” I cried, “I’ve gone to practice too!”
“That is just how it is.” She said as she tried to comfort me,”Boys go hunting, girls don’t.”

I wanted none of it and I ran outside and hid behind the chicken coop.

I decided I was never going to speak to my father again. He loved the boys more. I couldn’t understand why they got to be boys and I had to be born this alien thing.

Why was I different?

I wasn’t allowed to play baseball, or soccer. I got dolls and not trucks for Christmas, so the boys wouldn’t play with me, and now I had to stay at home while my brothers got to go away for a whole weekend to a place as wonderful as only a young mind being denied something they desire, could cook up.

My father came out looking for me. He knew where I would be. I always hid out there when I was angry with them.

“I’m sorry you can’t go. You would not like it.” He said, “You couldn’t kill a deer. You would get really sad. Girls are sensitive that way baby.”
“I would! I swear!” I cried to him, “Please let me go! I swear I would be good, I could do it!”
“No Toad, I’m sorry.” He said (He nicknamed me Toad because he said when I was a baby my eyes were so big and green that I looked like a little frog)
“I hate you!” I said, “I won’t ever talk to you again!”
“Yes you will.” He laughed, and then he gave me a hug and kissed my head, “Be good for your mom Toad.” and then he got up and left.

I sat behind the chicken coop and waited until after I heard the car drive away.

I could be tough. I could! And I was going to show him! I was so angry. I was so furious that I was different and that meant I had to miss out on all of the fun stuff.

“How hard could it be to kill a stupid deer anyhow?” I thought to myself. “It could not be so hard.”

I went to the house and went to the back where we kept a little aquarium.
I had caught a huge bullfrog earlier in the season and he had been happily living in my aquarium. I loved him. I was so proud that I caught the biggest frog that year. I used to catch him bugs and feed him so much that my mom would say he was going to outgrow the aquarium.

I took my frog carefully out of his home and I cradled him in my hands so he would not escape. I brought him outside. I sat down in the driveway.

I looked at my frog. I examined his soft delicate looking skin, his different colors, and his little frog eyes.

I thought about my dad and my uncles and my brothers and my cousins all on their big camping trip. I thought about how I was a girl so I didn’t get to go because girls couldn’t handle it.
"I could handle it! I could be tough!" I thought to myself. It is just a stupid deer!

I put my frog on the ground and stood up next to him.

He didn’t move. He just sort of sat there like fat frogs do.

Without thinking, I lifted my foot and I stomped down hard on my frog.

“See! I can do it!” I thought to myself.
I felt a moment of victory. I felt like I could do anything, and they were wrong. They were all wrong! I killed my frog, and I didn’t hesitate for a second. I was tough unlike girls were supposed to be!

That is when it hit me.

I slowly lifted my foot and squatted down next to my now flattened frog. His body was all squished and misshapen. I poked him with my finger, as if he was suddenly going to resurrect now that I had proved my point.

Nothing happened.

“I killed my frog! My frog is dead! I can’t make him alive again!” That is when it became clear to me, what dead really meant.

I sat there in the driveway holding my now dead frog in my hand wishing I could take it back, wishing I could fix my frog, sobbing, hurting. The guilt was overwhelming, crying uncontrollably now. I wanted to fix him, but I knew I couldn’t.

Toad had killed her frog. Toad was a girl. Frog was dead.

Thursday, February 19, 2004

Part 2- The little green house

My grandparents have a little green house. I remembered when I would visit when I was young it seemed so big, now it looked like a small-scale model of the big green house that I remember.
Everything seemed miniature; even the big oak trees out front didn’t seem like the giants that they were when I was a child. Everything had an aged look to it as it is with many cities in Michigan. After the majority of the factories moved overseas the cities were left to fall apart with poverty and the pollution left behind. The cities that are left there are ghosts, shadows of the magnificent cities they once were.
My Grandfather worked at a factory making springs for some 50 years. Now his oldest son Jack Jr and his son: my cousin Jack III worked there. My Grandfather was making less than $10 an hour when he retired.
Somehow my Grandparents raised six children in this tiny little house, but now it seemed too small for the four adults who were trying to stay there that night.
My Uncle (My fathers youngest brother) was in the back bedroom, my father on the couch and that left me with staying in my grandmother’s room with her. It seemed kind of strange to me that I would be sleeping with my Grandmother on the side of the bed my Grandfather had inhabited for some 52 years. But I figured if it was all right with her, then it was fine by me.
As we changed the sheets on the bed she joked about how my grandfather was stinky so I didn’t want to sleep on that. I started to think about how strange it was that he would probably never sleep in this bed again and as soon as we changed the sheets his smell will be gone from the bed. How easily we are washed away.

It was a sleepless night. My Grandmother and I mostly just talked and caught up. I really love this woman and I don’t get back home often enough. I really cherish the times I have spent with her.
She is as feisty as any twenty something and she isn’t afraid to speak her mind. She loves her children and grand children and great grandchildren with the ferocity of a mother bear protecting her cubs. She ha s a huge heart and tries to do right by everyone, but after living with my hard headed Grandfather for 52 years she learned a thing or two about making sure she isn’t anyone’s door mat. She knows how to live her life and that is what has kept her so young.

I could hear the fear in her voice. She was talking about how strange it will be without him around any more. We went over the past slowly and methodically, every story we would relive to a point where I could almost smell the air and taste the Thanksgiving dinners again.
She talked about her friends who had lost their husbands in the years earlier and how they handled it. We joked about how after all these years she will actually be able to know what it is like to hold the remote control.
We talked about the day he had the stroke, and even though it was the day before she told it like it happened years ago, with a distance to her face and voice, as if she could not quite live those memories yet as vividly as she could live the memories from days long past.

Sometime around 3AM she went to sleep, we were up by 6AM to go back to the hospital. As I got out of bed to go get ready my grandmother was sitting at the table staring blankly. She had been crying.
When I looked to see what she was staring at I saw why she was crying. She had made two cups of coffee like she had every morning for 52 years. It didn’t even occur to her that she only needed one today until after she had made them.

Part 1- Going back to Muskegon

It seems that things like wedding and funerals bring out all of the best in your family tree. All of the drama being stirred up in my family since I announced I was planning a wedding got me to thinking about it a lot. I have decided to document the last family funeral I went to, to coincide with my documentation of the wedding planning. I feel there may be some sort of strange symmetry, as there tends to be with matters of family.

This last July my grandfather passed away.
If I started filming from the moment I got the call that he had a stroke and kept filming until I returned home from the funeral it would have been the weirdest documentary ever. It started out normal but went crazy from there.

Part 1- Going back to Muskegon

It started at just before midnight. I had just dropped my daughter off at the airport; she was going up to Alaska to spend some time with her grandparents during summer vacation. I was in the process of moving into a new apartment so my plan was to start packing and get things moved while Darian was away.
The phone rang and it was my father.
“Hey.” He said with a tone I didn’t recognize in his voice, but it made all of my panic bells go off in my head and heart.
“What happened?” I asked without thinking.
“My dad, he had a stroke, he is in the hospital.” He said I could hear his voice breaking up on the other end of the phone.
“I’ll be on the next flight.” I said and I hung up and started looking for a ticket there that would get me there sooner than later. As the evening progressed my grandfathers condition worsened. I was getting regular updates all night, but my flight was not until the next morning.
His stroke started a bleed in his brain. He was still conscious but he was fading fast. They told him that they had to give him a shunt to release some of the pressure.
My grandfather is a very stubborn man. There was no way that he was going to let him put anything in his head even if it would be the only thing that could save his life. He would rather die than come across as weak, and that is the fate he chose.
By about 1AM the doctor said that it would only be a matter of days. I had to get there fast if I ever wanted to see my Grandfather alive again.
I got on the airplane going to Muskegon Michigan early the next morning.
I made it to the hospital to see my grandfather hanging on to the smallest thread of life. He looked so small lying in that bed in that little blue hospital robe.
His breathing was heavy and he stressed. He had been a smoker for years and it had ruined his lungs. He sounded like he was choking.
He was panting and pale and I was able to stay in the room for about five minutes before I excused myself to the restroom. I shut the door behind me and slipped to the floor and cried.
As I sat there crying I started to wonder how many other people had done the same thing in this particular restroom. Seeing as it is the only restroom for guests in the ICU of the hospital I thought I was not alone in my fear, sadness and mourning. I found some strange comfort in these thoughts and I was able to pull myself together enough to go back and face what the next week might bring.
This would be the only time I cried throughout this whole experience.

I returned to the room and talked to my grandfather for a little while. He was on the verge of completely disappearing. They just gave him a does of Morphine and said he would be out for the night so it would probably be best to get home and rest up, it was going to be a long week. I went back to my Grandmothers house to get some sleep.

Saturday, February 14, 2004

Down Time

I will never apologize for who I have been
Only for who I have hurt along the way
Speak in riddles and people will listen
Tell the truth
They will cry or turn away

In some radical sense of perception
I saw the future
In another way
Or was it the past in another life
I can never really be too sure these days

Who raises the child when the parent still needs to grow?
They say it takes a village
It must take a lifetime to get there.

This body is whole and young and beautiful,
with eyes that give too much away.
My blood has turned against me and my brain battles with my heart, with my soul for control of it’s actions

A liquid lover
I drink your spirits
I try to fill up
But I am left empty.

So many people grasp and reach out
Looking for the magic word
The perfect phrase
The ray of hope that makes it all better

That key is locked away some place inside
So deep I wonder myself if I will ever reach it.

I see it all slipping through my fingers,
Just as I think I can hold on again,
Some days it all seems to click
Like I have all of the answers
That seemed so out of reach
Now everything makes sense

Then I touch my heart again
And realize how very open the wounds still are
How the scars have made me harder and the scabs are fragile
How easy it is to fall again

I have seen bodies where the flesh is weak and frail but the spirit soars
I want to touch that
I want to find that in myself

Some say it is in God, meditation, self-discovery, and recovery.
Some say it is all in the mind
A choice

Funny, I don’t remember being asked if I wanted this.

Friday, February 13, 2004

My dearest sister friend.....

Dear sister,

Don’t hate her because she has him, remember he chose to be with her.

Don’t judge her because he loves her. Don’t try to pick her apart and try to figure out what the formula is that makes him desire her.

Don’t waste your time trying to see what it was about her that made him want more with her than he did with you.

Sometimes life just works that way.

They were meant to be, because they are, whether or not you agree.

Why should you waste your time commiserating with your friends on her hair, her outfit, her skin, her weight, her height, her voice, her talent, her laugh, her shoes, her hands, her eyes, her ass, her attitude…

What if you took the time to get to know her? Are you afraid you might find out that she has a huge heart and she would be crushed if she ever heard what you and your friends say about her? Are you afraid you would see past your own insecurities and see that she can be insecure too? Are you afraid to find out her life isn’t perfect and it isn’t her fault that he didn’t love you?

You might even learn that she didn’t even know that you existed. You would find out that everything she does is not intended to hurt you, every time she laughs she isn’t laughing at you, and when she looks beautiful it isn’t to spite you. Her only crime is ignorance to your existence.

Does it scare you to let go of the unwarranted anger against her because you are afraid that you will see that you are really mad at him and at yourself for still being hung up on someone who doesn’t return your affection?

You don’t know her, and if you did, you would realize she is a lot like you. In other circumstances you may have even become friends.

Be angry with the one who betrayed you, the one who hurt you, the one who mislead you. You may be surprised to find that you need to be angry with yourself for letting it go this far.

Don’t be angry at the object of his affection. Feel for her because she is your sister and hope that he never makes her feel the way you do. Hope that you can let go of your anger and bitterness and move on with your life and try to be happy that someone you claimed to have had feelings for is happy in his life too.

Life is too short to waste your time or tears, confront your pain and make sure you are directing your anger at the right target.

The biggest favor you can do for yourself is let go of your pain. As soon as you lift that dark veil from your life you will finally be able to see what is really in front of you. You will finally be able to move forward and get out of the darkness that is your own obsession.

Don’t hate me because he chose to love me and I chose to love him back. Don’t hate me for my happiness. It’s not personal.

I didn’t even know you existed.

Your sister

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