26.2.00

Of Heat, Passports, and Personal Interaction

It's been unbearably hot lately.

I guess I shouldn't classify it as "lately"; it is summer, afterall, and the oppressive wave of heat and humidity has been coming and going over the last month and a half stretch. It's just more noticeable when I'm trying to rest or sleep. I'm not doing much of either, though I sneaked in a two-hour nap this afternoon. I would have slept most of the evening away, but I was too busy critiquing the 42nd Annual Grammy Awards (thirteen pages and a hand cramp later...) to bother laying down and giving into sweet, sweet unconsciousness.

On an aside note, I would say the best part of the Grammy awards were the live performaces by The Buena Vista Social Club and The Dixie Chicks, with a special mention to the young prodigious musicians who were held up as an example by the recording acadamy representative... whose name escapes me right now. I thought it was amazing to see actual musicians playing actual music, not just the Ricky-Martin-ring-of-fire hoopla or the rock-eistedfodd-esque performance by Britney Spears - and that perhaps there is hope for the future, after all.

It's 1:31am, and I guess I should turn the light out now, or my father may wake and yell at me. I'm nineteen years old, I earn my own wage, and I pay rent to my parents, and yet I'm still treated as not only a second-class citizen, but as though I were nine years old. It can be a complete drag.

My passport arrived today. I was told that I would receive it within ten working days - two normal weeks. I got it inside three weeks, but it doesn't worry me - at least it arrived here before I'm due to leave. The tentative date for my sojourn is the 10th of April, though it may be the 7th, depending on the availability of seats for a later flight. I'll be going to America with my beautiful boy, and his kind, gracious parents will put us up for a while. I'm in awe of how much his mom and dad accept me - they treat me as though they've known me for years. I feel lucky that the state of my interaction with them has been embedded in love and respect, not in a protective, "she'll steal away our first-born" state of suspicion and wariness. I think my own mother is jealous that I get along well with them; her relationship with my paternal grandmother was sown on rocky ground and never grew past reluctant familiarity.

I guess I'm writing here because I feel too lazy to write on my own site. It's easy to do this, and no-one really knows it exists. I haven't got my email address up here, not that anyone ever writes to me anyway - but in this case, I don't think I want that. I just want to get it all out and say, "It's there." I've expelled all I feel I need to for tonight... I'm off to go and talk to my baby. Goodnight.