treefrog: an old-fashined radiator (Radiator)
What I ate today? Not a whole hell of a lot. I've spent the past week being harassed by a rowdy gang of flu germs that took up residence in my body. My immune system is only just now beginning to shout them down. Despite this, I only missed two classes and got all my assignments handed in. RAWR.

Anyway, what I ate today. Hmm. I ate half a bowl of split pea soup from the school cafeteria before concluding that it wasn't actually split pea soup, but some sort of hate crime perpetrated by someone who doesn't like split pea soup. Damn shame. I love split pea soup. I ate a dinner roll with butter, because it came free with the soup, and was much, much tastier than the soup. I also ate two peak freans jelly-centre sandwich cookies. They were in a side pocket of my backpack (in plastic wrap) so they were a bit crunched, but I love those things.

Aside from the split pea dreadful, this was all a very nice change from eating nothing, or drinking broth, which is what I've been doing for the past week straight.

The Meme )
treefrog: a blue egyptian scarab (Scarab)
I'll start with my dad, I guess.

I'm a lot more like my dad than I am like my mom. Dad is very much an introvert and he can be impatient with people who don't keep up with his thinking. He has a dry and somewhat cynical sense of humour. Many people think he doesn't have a sense of humour and they find him intimidating. I suppose I can see that. He is large, quiet and doesn't smile very often. Having grown up with him, I know that his sense of humour is in perfect working order and that he is the kindest and gentlest person you could imagine. I have never known him to act with the intention of harming another person. Ever. I can't say that about many people. Dad is also the smartest person I know. He has a Ph.D., but he's smart in the real-worse sense of things, too. He is utterly determined to do what is right, even when it isn't easy for him. In 2008, he was diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma and went through chemotherapy and radiation therapy. He faced this with courage, dignity and humour, despite being miserable and afraid. I love my dad and he loves me. It's really that simple.

I love my mom too, but there are ways in which we just don't understand one another. I remind her of her mother, which causes her feelings for me to be conflicted at times. She is utterly devoted to her religion, to the point where she allows it to do her thinking for her at times. And yet... Mom loves everyone. She genuinely likes pretty much every person she encounters. The slow people, the obnoxious people, the awkward people, the ones who are so very hard to like... she likes them all. She doesn't even have to try, it comes naturally. It's perplexing as hell, but I'm envious. I care about people, but I tend not to like them. Mom is creative and artistic. In particular, she's a gifted photographer. She tries to make the world better and more beautiful. We don't always see eye to eye, but we love each other. That's what counts for me.

The Meme )
treefrog: the chinese character for love (Love)
I don't normally do these things but it seems like a not-half-bad way to get the proverbial ball rolling. Since I've already written my profile AND an introductory entry today, I'm skipping to question 2: Your First Love.

I know this isn't what the question means, but my first and purest love was language. I had first-grade language skills when I was two years old. I talked everyone's ear off. I've mostly moved my chatter to the internet, but nothing has really changed.

The first guy I fell in love with... oh wow. I haven't thought of Graham in so very long. I was fifteen years old and he was seventeen. He was six foot four and wore metal band t-shirts and read all the same books I did. He was a gentle soul, and he loved me. He was the first guy who ever got my blood racing and my heart hammering. We used to make out on the floor of his bedroom, rolling around on the rich green carpet. If I have any regrets about Graham, it's that I didn't sleep with him. I couldn't. I was a good (read: frightened) little Mormon girl. We broke it off because he got into drugs and drinking, which was a place I couldn't follow him to. I didn't hear from him for a year, but we became close friends later on. Last I heard, he was wanted by the police. I still miss him, when something reminds me of him, and I hope to God he's all right.

I suppose I ought to mention the first guy I did sleep with. I was 22 and so sick of being good and following all the rules. I knew he was trouble. But he was handsome and he made me laugh and he knew what he was doing when he touched me. The first few months were wonderful. He was gentle and attentive and wonderfully naughty. After that... not so much. He did things I didn't like, and if I said no, he resorted to emotional blackmail and, occasionally, just holding me down and doing it anyway. He was "poly" in his own words and "a cheating jackass" in most other peoples' words. He wanted to sleep with other women, but he didn't tell me this 'till I caught him doing so. And then I was "being restrictive". He hurt me more than I thought I could bear. Breaking up with him was one of the best favors I ever did for myself. When I came back from California, I saw him occasionally and we became friends. Very occasionally, this friendship had "benefits". On those occasions he treated me like he did when we were first together. I didn't want him back, but... I was bored, I guess? No idea what's become of him lately. I don't miss him, but I wish him well.

The Meme: )

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treefrog

September 2012

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