Amber's Abode

Pomp and inconsequence

I feel wounded.  Yesterday was the three month mark of my arrival here, and I have at least three more to go.  The wound, the literal one, is still infected, though not enough to get free of the roommate.

And today is my 11th anniversary of graduating from high school.  It's so depressing.  I thought I would be doing more by now, and here I sit in a nursing home.  Thinking of all that happened these years.  First love that the parents drove away, rapidly followed by another, then comes getting my associates degree but not being allowed to walk in that graduation because of a claimed lack of money, not getting a job, moving into a retirement community, moving to Portland for housing that is now closed to me, no job here either, first sexual relationship, first pregnancy, first abortion, first wedding among my sisters where I am not included as a bridesmaid, first divorce among my parents, which my mother told me would be my fault if it happened, first time that mother admits hating me in public, first collision with a car, first broken bone, resulting in my first visit to where I currently am.  Now it's second wedding I'm not included in the party, first indwelling catheter, first invasive surgery, first real brush with death, first restraining order, millionth rejection, and the second stay in the current location.

I'm sure Max would disagree with me, but I don't feel like I'm making much of an impact on the world, which really bothers me.  I thought I would be a teacher or an author by now, or both.  But I have been experiencing small things around me to keep feeling forward motion, however slight.

Thank you Max, for being such a strong supporter to me.  I don't know how I would've made it through, especially the last year, without you.  And I love you.

Thank you, Nick, for your vision, your force of spirit, and your strength of voice.  Never forget who you are.

Dear Dorothy, stop worrying about getting laid and get a job!  I really need a new wardrobe.  My underwear is from the 40s.  Love, Ma

Thank you Ann for your motivation.

Thank you, Daniel, for the renewal and for this space on the Web.  I am forever grateful to you for showing me the beautiful.

And of course, thank you Toby Keith.

Here's to the next 11 years, whether they bring adventure or mediocrity or some wild combination of both.

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