I wanted to write about my grandmother tonight. I wanted to write about how she would go on for days without sleep. I wanted to write about how upset I was when she couldn't recognize me three weeks ago. I wanted to write about her hallucinations, and her violent outbursts. I wanted to write about how glad I am that my sister is home.  I wanted to write about how I wished my cousin wasn't so pessimistic all the time.  I wanted to write about how much my mother is detached from reality. I wanted to write about all these things, but its just too difficult right now. 

2008

childhood

I just came back from watching "Where the Wild Things Are".  I agree with most people, its a great movie, but not really suitable for children.  Most people who read the book as a kid would remember the story fondly. Perhaps its because childhood doesn't seem that long ago. 

Sometimes I'm shock at the fact I am 26 now.  Aging is tough.  I look in the mirror and I don't look like the person I once was.  Its hard to deal with.  I am not where I want to be. I still don't know what kind of career I want to pursue.  Sometimes I want to have a real conversation with my mom about things, but as shes getting older, the more childlike she becomes.  My grandmother is 90 years old.  I miss her a lot. I mean i see her every week, but she has alzheimer's and its getting harder for her to understand me and for me to understand her.  I wonder what she thinks about everyday, if anything at all.

Sad