Dear Blog,
I am in my Shoreview attic-my sisters room before she grew up and went to Roseville. I'm listening to Dolly Parton and thinking about eighth grade when this room was prime location for punkrock hangoutings pre-loiter at McCullough park post-QuikStop sodajunkfood run . Ohgod.
I'm really scared of this place mostly because I feel like nobody gets it. My parents sound proud of me on the phone but in person they told me to take a shower. Coat of many colors.
I am already dreading going to Grandmas house and seeing my cousins and talking to my aunt about why my college degree really will be worthwhile and I'm also wondering what there is to do here other than get scary drunk and have tantrums.
But I guess my Dad hangs out with the Hells Angels
AND.
my Mom has digital cable.
ohmygodohmogododfdgd
The Grandfather clock is chiming way too much. I didn't used to hear that. AGHKD I grew up and moved away and got un-used to things.
This is house is spotless and full of things.
ohmygod i am going to freak out. do i feel like this everywhere i go?ohmygod. i already assured my Grandma I was alright once today, and I didnt even get into town until 9pm.
ahhhsdgfdkkkkkkkk
I need to go to Texas.
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1 comment:
Meg, I am sure that it is just post-tramatic stress.(airport). You need not be concerned about grandfather clocks that are slightly different, it happens to the best of us when we return to home-lands. I am always convinced that my parents house used to be a different color.
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