Dreaming of things that we might have been...
I hate guilt.
I hate that my mother, whom I love dearly and whom I KNOW loves me as well, has the singular ability to make me doubt each and every decision I make. Without meaning to. No matter how certain I am in that decision up to the point when I talk to her.
I hate second-guessing myself, and wondering if I'm doing the right thing. I hate a lot of other things, too, but I'll not get into them at the moment.
I have the opportunity to go visit my crazy!cool!travelin'!grandparents in a little peninsula called Port Townsend this summer. It's near Seattle, and it's quite literally at the end of the road, metaphorically and literally speaking. (Just for quick reference, for anyone who doesn't know jack about my grandmother, the coolest grannie ever, click the following lj-cut.)
About 15-20 years ago, my grandma on my dad's side sold her house, sold her car, and started sailing around the world in her own 34-foot sail boat BY HERSELF. She's been to Easter Island, Tahiti, more pacific islands than I can NAME, Australia, New Zealand (where she met my current grandfather and married him, HA), China, Madagascar, South Africa, and god knows where else. She's one of the coolest people I know.
They (my grandparents) lived with my dad for about 7-8 months this year, before taking off and roadtripping across America for awhile to visit various other family and friends. They're currently in Washington state, and are planning on renting a house there for a year, before doing god knows what else. They're taking their sailboat with them.
I have the opportunity to stay with them this summer. It'd be about 2 and a half months, a little less, perhaps, depending on when I move back. They'll take me sailing and generally spend time with me, and if you've never had the privilege of meeting John and Mary (as they insist I call them) they're two of the coolest people I KNOW. I think I'd really enjoy myself, despite the podunk size of the town (8,000 people, good GOD that's tiny, my high school population is over a quarter of that O_O). *long sigh*
but I'd miss people. Miss people a fucking lot. This might be the last summer some of my friends will ever be in the same place as me. I had plans for the summer, tentative, I know, mostly including visiting people, going to concerts, and working. (I'll be working out there, too, hopefully, or else I'm not going. I NEED money.) I'd miss Gaelic storm. I'll miss Dave Matthews band---my dad and I were gonna go see them again, just the two of us. Ouch. I'd miss Lollapalooza. And I'll miss my FRIENDS most of all, and my family.
But I think this is something I won't probably ever get the chance to do again. But... now my mother is (completely unintentionally) make me feel like hell for going. Now all I can think about are the things I'll miss out on.
Blech.
I hate that my mother, whom I love dearly and whom I KNOW loves me as well, has the singular ability to make me doubt each and every decision I make. Without meaning to. No matter how certain I am in that decision up to the point when I talk to her.
I hate second-guessing myself, and wondering if I'm doing the right thing. I hate a lot of other things, too, but I'll not get into them at the moment.
I have the opportunity to go visit my crazy!cool!travelin'!grandparents in a little peninsula called Port Townsend this summer. It's near Seattle, and it's quite literally at the end of the road, metaphorically and literally speaking. (Just for quick reference, for anyone who doesn't know jack about my grandmother, the coolest grannie ever, click the following lj-cut.)
About 15-20 years ago, my grandma on my dad's side sold her house, sold her car, and started sailing around the world in her own 34-foot sail boat BY HERSELF. She's been to Easter Island, Tahiti, more pacific islands than I can NAME, Australia, New Zealand (where she met my current grandfather and married him, HA), China, Madagascar, South Africa, and god knows where else. She's one of the coolest people I know.
They (my grandparents) lived with my dad for about 7-8 months this year, before taking off and roadtripping across America for awhile to visit various other family and friends. They're currently in Washington state, and are planning on renting a house there for a year, before doing god knows what else. They're taking their sailboat with them.
I have the opportunity to stay with them this summer. It'd be about 2 and a half months, a little less, perhaps, depending on when I move back. They'll take me sailing and generally spend time with me, and if you've never had the privilege of meeting John and Mary (as they insist I call them) they're two of the coolest people I KNOW. I think I'd really enjoy myself, despite the podunk size of the town (8,000 people, good GOD that's tiny, my high school population is over a quarter of that O_O). *long sigh*
but I'd miss people. Miss people a fucking lot. This might be the last summer some of my friends will ever be in the same place as me. I had plans for the summer, tentative, I know, mostly including visiting people, going to concerts, and working. (I'll be working out there, too, hopefully, or else I'm not going. I NEED money.) I'd miss Gaelic storm. I'll miss Dave Matthews band---my dad and I were gonna go see them again, just the two of us. Ouch. I'd miss Lollapalooza. And I'll miss my FRIENDS most of all, and my family.
But I think this is something I won't probably ever get the chance to do again. But... now my mother is (completely unintentionally) make me feel like hell for going. Now all I can think about are the things I'll miss out on.
Blech.