Tag Archive: tears


Since I started blogging, almost a whole year ago, there as not been one day that I have missed.  Every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday, like clockwork, I have showed up and put something out there for someone, anyone, to read.

Yesterday, for the first time in almost a year, I went AWOL.

I just didn’t show up.

So, for you who were waiting with bated breath, I apologize. Similarly, if you were worried I had died or had been sucked up by my chest (please reference Dane Cook) by aliens, I’m glad to inform you I am just fine.

What happened is that I actually just got swept up in the long, holiday weekend and forgot it was Sunday.

In fact, this weekend is a whirlwind of activity.

I showed up to my dad’s house ready for a weekend of drunken debauchery with friends and family by the pool in his backyard. But what actually happened was that I arrived at the restaurant for dinner like an hour later than I had originally told everyone I would be in town. Only, after I arrived, I promptly informed my dad that I felt like I was going to throw up and then I peace’d out.  I went back to the house where I found a bathroom just in time to puke my guts out. After throwing up nothing but water and bile (and oh yeah, those two or three Advil I took on an empty stomach- I’m an idiot), I ate exactly two and a half saltine crackers and fell asleep for an hour. When I woke up, everyone was arriving back home, with the food I had ordered in hand.

After that, Seneca and I went to bed early and watched some Forensic Files.

Saturday was even more of a blur.  The day lasted for-fucking-ever.

In a nutshell, the rest of the weekend happened as follows: I probably caught cancer from this shady-as-fuck restaurant called Hibachi Sushi Buffet (it was not my choice), hit my face against the bottom of the pool,  actually won a couple rounds of flip-cup, my computer died/broke, we ate our weight in pulled pork sandwiches, Megan accidentally dumped her almost-entirely-full drink in my lap at the bar we went to, Drew and I got into a physical altercation, Megan walked out at 2am with no word to Seneca or myself, both Seneca and I ended up in tears at some point, made weird references to Hilary Duff for no reason, saw Hangover II, and when we were alerted of bad weather we played a rousing game of Life where I pretended I found out I’m barren and will never bear children(LOL), we also watched a fuck-ton of Lifetime (yeah, including William & Kate, the movie), I quoted William Shakespeare to Seneca in a normal conversation, and I fell in the lake again tonight while trying to get in the kayak.

WINS ALL AROUND.

I promise things will go back to normal.

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My emotions are all over the place lately.

I mean, it’s a well known fact that I cry at the drop of a hat, but it’s getting a little crazy.

I think the looming end of Harry Potter is to blame. Honestly.

For the past few months, I have been listening to the Harry Potter audiobooks from the very beginning of the series. I am finally a little over half-way through the seventh book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but it’s been a long road.  I’m just so invested in them and I’m going to be really sad once the last movie comes out and ends it all. I know that the books and movies will live on, but for the past ten years, it’s like I have had either a book or a movie to look forward to. It’s all just going to be over.

(Oh hey, Melodramatic-Katie. I didn’t know you were going to be here today!)

The thing is… since I’ve been breathing Harry Potter for the past few months, my mind is pretty much saturated with Harry Potter information. I use Harry Potter references in my everyday conversations. I’m not mad about this at all, but I think it concerns others, or just leaves them feeling confused. (And I really wouldn’t consider this an unhealthy addiction or obsession or anything, seriously.  I mean, I know someone who is inappropriately obsessed with something of late and I am nowhere near her level of insanity. I just wanted to make that clear… lol.)

Back to my emotions… I promise all of this is relevant.

I do, however, want to preface this example of out-of-control emotions with the fact that I happened to be intoxicated when this event occurred and that this might not count.  So, a few weeks ago, my brother and I had some people over to his house to hang out (and then The Tripod left to go to the bars- you know how we do.) and get crazy. Right before we left, I’m actually not sure what triggered this but whatever, we ended up shouting curses and jinxes at each other. Like, we were having our very own wizard’s duel.  It started between the two other legs of the tripod and myself but then Drew got involved.  Right when I was about to shout Expelliarmus at him, he hurled Aveda Kedavra at me.  It was at that moment that I burst into tears and the duel ended.

Megan stared at us in incredulity while Seneca watched in awe as Drew quickly showed remorse for yelling the Killing Curse my way.  He wrapped me in a hug and told me that he didn’t mean it and that he loved me.  It got serious.  I had immediately told him that it wasn’t nice to kill me and that I would absolutely die if anything ever happened to him and that he should never use that curse, ever.

It was ridiculous, to say the very least. But, every time I think about it, I laugh. It’s funny and cute and kind of a heartwarming moment between him and me.

A couple weeks ago, I was driving home from work and it happened to coincide with the time (Oh Em Gee, Spoiler Alert) Dumbledore dies near the end of HP6, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.  It also happened to be after a particularly long day of work when I was still very sick and I was exhausted.  So, naturally, when JKR begins her description of the grief expressed by all of the characters in the book, I began to weep as well. Once it started, I couldn’t stop.  I was bawling my eyes out the entire forty-five minutes it takes for me to get home from work.  By the time I got home, my face was red and puffy, I no longer had any eye makeup on, and I was doing that weird hiccup-breathing from the heaving sobs that had flowed out of me.

And just yesterday, I was driving home from work when (SPOILER ALERT) Dobby died.  I sob uncontrollably when I watch the movie (EVERY SINGLE TIME), so it’s no surprise that the book brought me to tears.  The grief Harry experiences, the burial, the words Luna says on his behalf… I just think all of it is so precious and heartbreaking.  Dobby was so pure of heart and an innocent, and the loss of his life is a travesty. Bellatrix Lestrange sucks, and I hate her.

It just seems like I’m always in my car when I’m having these emotional events.

This has got to stop! Except, I never want it to because that would require me to not listen to Harry Potter in my car, and I just don’t want to stop doing that. It makes my commute enjoyable.

Anyway, I guess my point is that I never would have guessed I would have gotten so involved in the series when I first picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.  Not in a million years.  Even upon seeing the first film, I never thought I would feel such an affinity towards these characters and this world J.K. Rowling created. I just don’t know what I’ll do when it’s all over. Maybe once it’s over I won’t be so weepy about all things Harry Potter. Probably not, though.

Does anyone else feel this way about Harry Potter?! I know I can’t be alone in this.

Every weekend Tam takes Chief to Petsmart.

And every weekend I hear about how much fun Chief has at Petsmart, and how everyone who sees him just falls in love with him, and how Chief makes all kinds of puppy friends. Basically everyone has a good fucking time and I miss out.

So you can bet your bottom dollar that when I saw that I had this past Saturday off from work, I was like GUESS WHAT FUCKERS! WE’RE GOING TO PETSMART!

But we didn’t get to go to Petsmart until after I went to my group meeting for my Finance class. BUT OH WAIT. While my group meeting had been set for 10:30am at the library at school, guess who was the only one there at 10:30am at the library at school. THIS GIRL. The first dude showed up at like 11:15am, the next one strolled in at 11:40am, and the last one finally came at, like, noon. WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT PART OF 10:30AM DID THEY NOT UNDERSTAND?! AND LET IT JUST BE KNOWN: I WAS NOT THE ONE WHO SET THE TIME FOR THE MEETING! MR. 11:40 DID!

JFEHE8HFEUWDPIHFUDISAFKJDSLHAI UGHHHHHHHH!!!

Anyway, that is neither here nor there.

I just counted to ten so we could calmly and rationally move on with the Petsmart story. Because I know you’re dying to know what happened.

When we pulled in the parking lot, I was still coming down from the trauma I had experienced when Tam sneak-attacked me by taking us through the carwash. Chief was cool as a cucumber through the whole ordeal but, as always, I was a basketcase. Despite the trauma, I can’t even tell you how excited I was. It was all, yes! I finally get to see Chiefy in his puppy play place!

Puppies!!

We were not inside for three minutes before he and Tam made a bee-line for the puppies to be adopted. There were two of the cutest twinsies I had ever seen! They were lab/Australian shepherd puppies and they were 12 weeks old and precious.  Chiefy knew them from his visit last week and they sniffed each other and wiggled through the cage that separated them.

Chiefy was very, very busy and, after saying hello to his puppy mates, he decided it was time to take a look at some toys and maybe pick out a bone or two.  We sniffed out the bones but they didn’t have the kind Tam likes to buy for him so then we went to investigate the section where they had those little booties they have for pets so their feet don’t get cold in the winter. Chief tried on one but it didn’t go so well. That was when we heard all kinds of commotion coming from the twin pups.

When we made our way back towards the puppies, I saw that one was being held and one was still stuck in the cage. I immediately knew what was happening. A husband and wife duo, along with their nine year old son, was adopting only one of these precious puppies.

ONLY ONE!!

The puppy in the cage was wailing and crying. The little boy knew that this puppy was facing some hard times, and he crawled in the cage to try to comfort him. Before I knew it, giant crocodile tears were cascading from my eyes and I couldn’t even pretend something was wrong with my contacts.  I quickly got Tam’s attention and told her we were either taking that extra puppy home or we needed to get the fuck out before I A) ripped that puppy from that woman’s arms and put it back in the cage with its sibling, or B) screamed at her and told her it was cruel of her to only be bringing one of them home.

We got the fuck out.

I was in the middle of a full-blown meltdown by the time we got in the car. I couldn’t stop crying even though I was embarrassed and desperately wanted to not be sobbing over the fact that a puppy didn’t get adopted that day. In fact, I cried the whole twenty minutes it took to get home.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, Tam said, “you can’t come to Petsmart anymore.”

I think that’s probably for the best.

I’m a catty little bitch.

Obviously, this is not a new realization for me or anything. I’m just putting it out there for you. I’m here for you. ‘Cause I’m also considerate like that. Who knew, right!?

It’s just that I think all these bitchy, judgy things about people and SOMETIMES I even say that stuff out loud.

This is all coming out because of recent events. Lately, my mother and I have been fighting more than usual. I wouldn’t say that we normally fight all that often. I mean, we’re both pretty … verbal… when it comes to being pissed off, so generally things are solved in the moment. When one of us feels wronged by the other, or a disagreement occurs, things escalate quickly. At the same time, though, things are usually resolved and forgotten about after just minutes of screaming our faces blue at each other. It may result in tears but I would say we forgive and forget pretty quickly.

Lately, though,… oh man, it’s been bad. We just yell and say mean things we don’t really mean and then shut down. Nothing gets solved, feelings stay hurt and we get angry. Then we stay angry. And everything we do just eats at us; I annoy the hell out of her with every action and she drives me up a fucking wall with everything she does. This goes on until it just boils over and something snarky comes out and the other one loses her shit.

Being a catty little bitch means that I nitpick and remember the mean things that were said in the heat of the moment that should be forgiven. This means that even after all is said and done, and we’re back to talking and laughing and joking around like always, I can still hear the tiny voice in the back of my head (which obviously belongs to my mother- because good or bad, she’s the one I hear through all the madness) pushing those things we argued about back to the forefront of my mind.

Being a catty little bitch means that I can tap into that part of myself that no one should know is there and say the meanest thing possible in that moment. Because in that moment, it feels good to say it. It feels good to stab the knife in and twist it a little bit. It feels good to know I have earned a reaction, even if it is her heart breaking a little bit. If feels good because in that moment, I won.

The thing is, after that moment passes, I always wish I never would have gone there. I wish I could take it back. I wish more than anything that those words could disolve from her mind and she could un-hear them.

I’ve been a catty little bitch to the woman who gave me life, to the one person on this earth who truly loves me unconditionally. So, I’ve been working on it, because it hurts me too when I hurt her.

And on the eve of my birthday, she deserves a thank you. (And an I’m sorry.) (And an I love you.)

But let’s get real: I’m still gonna hate on people. It’s, like, what I do.

Haterz gon’ hate. Cliches are cliches for a reason; they’re true. Bahahahhaha