I Want This Gift

I love my family. You all know this. I just came back from Thanksgiving and even though there were some rough spots (when aren't there?!), it was fantastic. They are so full of love and life and character, it makes the word 'family' shine.

My little brother. My best friend and worst enemy. But mostly my best friend. He and I have been through more together than anyone else has been through with me. And I've been through a lot of crap with a ton of people. I would be lost without him. He's really grown up to be a hilarious, quick, smart, sensitive guy. He tells Michael (the older of the two cousins on mom's side) that he loves him (he tells everyone that, but anywho). Like, I watched him say that to Michael yesterday morning and was just so amazed at how he could make those three words 'cool'. Michael will never think it's not a 'guy thing' to say that you love someone. I think that's incredible, and I bet Mark doesn't even know he has done that for Michael. Not to mention Mark and I had 'girl talk' at two in the morning watching 'Along Came Polly' and 'Blue Crush', that was fun. We talked about computer games and I was able to watch his multimedia project video, which was so impressive! It was all stop motion, and it's just like 'what happened to that pudgy little Buddha child I used to beat the living daylights out of?' Mark hugs me when I cry, and he does damage control with mom. I try to do the same for him. When I wasn't feeling well Thanksgiving morning, he totally took both kids and let me sleep in. Michael came down at 6am to pull off Mark's sock. I hear:

"Hey! Not my sock...aw, now my feet are cold."
*giggles*
Then, twenty minutes later he sits up and goes
"I found my sock."

It's some of that stupid stuff that is SO funny to us. We taught Michael and Michele the game "Guess What?" "What?" "Five minutes to get rid of it." That was, maybe a bad choice, in retrospect. We also played the game "You remind me of a man!" What man?" "The man with the power. " "What power?" "The power of voo-doo!" "Who do?" "You do!" "I do what?" "Remind me of a man!"" "What man?" "The man with the power...." and so on. Michael's a smart kid, he came down one morning and said that to us while we ere half asleep, and I said "What man?" Thinking it was cute he remembered that we talked about it the night before. He goes "Five minutes to get rid of it!" And runs away laughing his fool head off. Oh that child. So, that's my shpeal on the boys.

This Italian family of mine loves the sounds of Frank Sinatra. My Pop-Pop *is* better than Frank. Seriously. I may be bias,m but I don't give a damn. He sings so beautifully. And Frank has been his MAN since before I can remember. When I was little, and would play in a baby pool, Pop-Pop and Mom-Mom would sit out in the sun with their old silver portable radio, the antenna way up, and Frank would be blasting. My grandparents are So in love. They fight and pick at each other, but they love each other. When Pop-Pop does something and Mom-Mom goes 'Oh, I don't want to talk to you." He'll bat his eyes and try to give her a hug and say "I love ya sweetheart! Don't you love me, honey?" And she'll swat him with a dishtowel while she goes to get more dishes off the dinner table. It's just, stuff like that. He does the sweetest things for her, she does the cutest things for him. They are so loving. And generous! More than anyone. No one has a bad thing to say about them.

Thanksgiving night while we were doing dishes, the whole house was singing to Frank Sinatra. And the song "New York, New York" came on. Mom-Mom was sitting next to Michele and I and Pop-Pop was singing his heart out while people started to do the dishes. My mom said to him "Go dance with Mom(-Mom), Dad." And he told her "No, she don't want to dance." But he locked at her and she held her hands out, and everyone laughed. So, he went over and they danced and my little brother caught this on tape. You can hear Lydia (Mom-Mom) dancing a little, and see me in the background and Michele on the floor with this HUGE smile. Even at six years old she can tell what they have is special. Now, they're on You Tube. Everyone in the family thinks this is genius, that we put my grandparents on the internet. When they finished dancing (You can hear Poop-Pop starting to say "That's all, I gotta do the dishes" as he walks away), Michele looked up and said to me "That's just hysterical!" I looked at her and told her "Nah, it's just incredible." She didn't get it, but that's okay.

I guess the point is, when I'm eighty (do those two look eighty to you?), I want to be so in love, have such a wonderful family surrounding me, and still singing and dancing my heart out. That's a gift, you know? What those two have. And it's just amazing to me.

I can't figure out how to upload the video on here, so here's the link instead.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=eDhoTorigck

Gobble Gobble!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, EVERYBODY!

Peace, Love, and Turkey!

Well If All You Want Is Honesty, That's All You Have To Say.

Let's talk about some things that are, how you say: bugging me. Just a couple things, out of the many many choices, that are going through my mind.


And we can start with the theatre majors who are here and act as though they are above the program. You don't like the program, then just leave! You want a big part in the show, but you don't know anything about it, have never heard the music, never read the script, don't know who the characters are, and won't research? Do you think it'll just be handed to you on a silver platter? You have to work HARD if you even want to be CONSIDERED for a part that's bigger than ensemble. And hell, even if you do do all your research and audition with the perfect song, and/or monologue, you STILL may not get casted in a lead role because you're:too short, you're hair is too thick, too fat, too tall, too brunette, too broad-shouldered, too unique, too commercial, not what the director wants....whatever. Oh wait, what? You want to do film! You're such a conceded jerk. You have yet to prove you possess have any talent in front of a camera, or in front of an audience on stage. And you're almost done with school... so you're thinking about changing your major NOW?! I mean, don't get me wrong, I hope you do switch to something else, because you're an awful representation of the theatre department and you would be much better suited to be in with the other Poly Sci majors that you so revere, because they have some argumentative tendencies to rival yours. However, with the rate you're going, even they will throw up their hands in frustration, roll their eyes, and exasperate a pinched voice: "Whatever you say, you obviously know so much more about it than I do." Because you are the spoiled, childish, stuck-up person who has to have his way every $*%&@*! time. Why is it that you're never wrong? I wish I could always be right, like you! Maybe it's something aspire to, i'll work really hard towards that: when i grow up, I'll be just. Like. You. Yeah, right. I'd rather slide down a giant razor blade into a pool of alcohol. Oh! And lastly, let me tell you that being a homophobic does NOT work well if you are interested in theatre, film, or any other form of art - and being a part of it. You want to be in theatre? GET OVER IT! Being a racist won't help you much in those areas, either. Actually, it wouldn't help you much anyplace.
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ONE WEEK LATER: Nov. 14th - an addition to this theatre thing:

"death by theatre major" is my favorite ice cream flavor!

I loathe these junior high drama addicts, these friend-stealing, back-stabbing, heart-breaking people.

I loathe this department and its pre-casting, babying, favoring professors.

I loathe those disrespecting, unfeeling, gut-wrenching, unprofessional cretins walking around this God-forsaken scum of the earth campus.

And I loathe my addiction to this painful, anxiety ridden, wonderful, life-giving drug that I have been so willfully pushed, pulled, sucked down, slammed into taking inside of me - shooting, snorting, popping, and smoking every hour of my life from the time I was ten years old until this very moment...

I don't know if I should laugh or cry.

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Let's move on, shall we? Lovely! (Nota Bene: This is about more than one person. Let's see if you smart readers can catch the double entrende! Iti's like "Where's Waldo", only more people are wearing the red and white stripped shirts than you first thought when you looked at the picture.) I am SO SICK of seeing people in relationships where they get treated like the lowest little piece of scum on the planet. YOU ARE WONDERFUL! You are. Find someone who treats you like that, find anyone. You don't deserve that crap you take, that you've been taking for years. You. Don't. Deserve. It. I wish you could see how it breaks hearts of people who hardly even know you because you ARE such a fantastic, beautiful person who anyone with a bit of sense would praise God for every second, and would WORSHIP you and treat you like royalty. Dear person A: Drop person B, they're screwing you over. Go for person C. They've been standing here all along. They're the one to sweep you away...if you'd let them. I know it's hard. I really and truely ldo. But....you need to let go, just let go. No one should go through life being treated the way you are.

Wanna know what else is going through this head? Well! I'll tell ya! You said I could be there and it would all be okay. Then, things changed because of one person, and I could be there only after a certain time. HEY! You lied. You broke your promise. Let's not even go into the agreement we had not to do that thing we said we weren't going to do anymore because of that weekend I had not so long ago. You'll be throwing that out the window pretty soon. I'm guessing you don't even remember that was our deal.

Dear life:

Please, sucker punch me some more! It feels so lovely! I enjoy ever minute of it!

Your friend, Michelina