Home for the holidays

I keep on forgetting to bring a
disposable camera
with me when I fly up to see my family. Nothing is more beautiful than seeing a bird’s eye view of San Francisco. My heart is in San Francisco, that’s for sure.

Not to say that Seattle/Tacoma isn’t pretty also, with the changing color of the trees and the snow on the ground. And it’s nice to be home in a nice warm house with family, even if my dream of my parents getting cable internet didn’t come true. Well, maybe dial-up wont be so bad. And if nothing else, maybe I’ll take Eric’s laptop and walk down to Starbucks. Yes, just like downtown SF, there is a Starbucks on every corner.

**side note**Was Degrassi Jr High ever this slutty….

Anyway, think that I will try some restraint while I’m on vacation. I need to check my email to keep up with the mess that is going on at work (I know, I should leave work at work while on vacation.) I have my written journal, which I think I will write into; I can do the whole scan pages thing again if there is something profound.

One of the points of coming up to Washington, besides the opportunity to watch Korean Soap Operas with my mom, is to the storage where all of my stuff is at. Inside the storage, I dust off and pull out the shrine to April, and once again reread the letters, listen to the tapes, and try to gleam some information about myself or life from them.

I should also get a shrine for Suzanne also and leave all record of her here in Washington, where I could visit once or twice a year and revisit the ghosts and memories. However all the memories of Suzanne are visual, the only written memories I have are a few saved IMs. I also have some excerpts from the Book of the Angelica that I copied into my journal. I wish that I had a copy of that notebook sometimes. However, it was the right thing to do to give it back to her. Did she even reread it? Did she even understand the whole
hypocrisy of it? Does she even have it or did she throw it away? So the only records that I have are pictures of her and three drawings that she did that I am not allowed to hang up. So I go out to the garage, and sit in the cold, and gaze at them, hoping that I can, what? Recapture a memory? Gather some insight from the drawing. Yes, it might be easier just to slit my wrists.

Anyway, it’s after midnight so I am going to goto sleep in order to try to get my sleeping habit back in line. Tomorrow it’s cleaning the house and taking my brother to go see Kill Bill, Vol 1.

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