Quote of the Day: “You can no more win a war than you can win an earthquake.” – Jeannette Rankin

I can’t sleep!  I have a lot of stuff going through my head.  I managed to change them from overwhelmed issues clamoring for attention to curious, daydreamy possibilities.  That’s good!  That’ll allow me to get back on track and realize that I’ve got time!  And my winding thoughts led me someplace I didn’t expect at all.

I realized that I have more furniture than I thought I would have by this point.  Voldemort either made or gave me almost all of my pieces of furniture . . . and I am very attached to them.  Four shelves (though my mom is apparently keeping two of them), a magazine rack/endtable, a tiny coffeetable, a semi-entertainment center sorta, a worktable, a guinea pig cage, three clocks, and I’m sure there’s more I don’t remember.  He and my mom got a day bed that I adore and a dresser before I came along, they’re now mine.  He made me a toy table and chair set when I was little.  Until I was fifteen, he had planned on giving me everything.  All of his top-of-the-line power tools, an ancient grandfather clock, a trundlebed he made, and this gorgeous coffeetable made out of half a trunk of a cherry tree, but he didn’t alter the texture on the sides so you can see where worms ate away at the wood (it looks a lot better than it sounds).  These are just a few of the things that were to be passed down to me, but only he knows what will happen to them now.

It’s really strange that I have so much disdain for him, he’s hurt me so much, and I look forward to his death so much – but these things he’s made me hold so much value.  They show that he did have some fatherly love after all and he expressed it in a way in which he excelled, but wouldn’t make him vulnerable.

My supervisor at last semester’s fieldwork said, once, that her relationship with her father was very similar to my relationship with Voldemort, only without the violence.  He just faded away when she was young.  She said that she didn’t find out that he died until the day of his funeral and she cried, but she still can’t figure out why she cried.  I understand why; I wasn’t able to figure out why I was so upset when I found out that Voldemort had a stroke until a few years later: your subconscious mourns for your conscious’ ambivalence.  Your subconscious knows that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.  It’s more of a mourning for a loss of an unfulfilled opportunity than for a person.

As far as I know, he isn’t dead yet.  I do look forward to his death for many reasons, but I also understand that it will be very difficult and I’ll need some time off to mourn and to adjust; gathering money and furniture and the like will come second.

In the meantime!  I want a very 70’s living room and I don’t know why!  I mean genuine 70’s, lots of medium-toned wood with that gaudy orange and pea soup green!  Watch “Anchorman” and pause when you see Ron Burgundy’s apartment, that’s it!  I DON’T KNOW WHAT WE’RE YELLING ABOUT!!!!

 

And I’m pretty sure I have the most fantasmic friends and girlfriend ever