Monday, May 25, 2009

Dad’s birthday on the 24th. We ate together as a family, and even though my brother and I fought, everyone else have been getting on well with each other. We went to Walmart and brought two kinds of cake—a rolled up carrot cake and a German frozen chocolate cake. First we tried the carrot cake. Overall consensus was that it was too sweet. Little sister Kim said—let’s try the chocolate cake. Since I had devoured two platefuls of carrot cake roll, I had no room for chocolate cake. Dad and sister approved of chocolate cake.

Now, a day later, it is raining hard, thundering right now and sister Kim is whimpering. I feel hungry, but I am hesitant about eating. These past weeks, I usually feel bloated because once I start eating, I don’t stop until my brain realizes that it is freakin’ hot, I’ve been eating oily foods, and I feel mighty uncomfortable because of the combo of the two.

My sister—after staying for a week by herself at our college townhouse (it is lovely to say—ah yes, our college townhouse)—has returned and told me how great it feels to control her eating.

During dad’s dinner party, when I looked greedily at her slice of carrot cake, she said—you want to eat it, don’t you?

Yes. [Looking greedily at cake]

Oh, you can have it. I don’t want it.

After eating that slice, I of course felt bloated and awful. Henceforth, I will endeavor to control my portions.

I feel guilty and sad for not making my father’s birthday more of a big deal. He has been feeling poorly and ill lately, and I wish I was less withdrawn and more able to celebrate life. I asked dad—how does it feel to grow older? Is it good? My sister Christine sneered at me, sending evil brainwaves at me—why ask such a question? Maybe I’m an idiot conversationalist—I don’t mind being one—but I was asking that question earnestly, thinking my dad has gone through a lot in his life, and he should feel content to celebrate the variety of such a life. But no, my dad had disappointment in his eyes and shook his head.

I am not one for making gestures, but I wish I was capable of expressing how I feel. Life—such as it is—should be celebrated for all the things that went wrong as well as went right.

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