Thoughts On Home and Magic

Home and Magic are two things that I maybe didn’t fully believe in until after the past two days.

Home is a thing that’s hard for me to define. There are places that feel like home and can be clearly defined that way: my family’s house in Gettysburg, for sure. It is the address I put for “permanent address” on forms, it is the place where I can stay up until 4 AM and walk around in my underwear without worrying. It is where my parents, brothers, and pets live, it is where I spend my breaks from school. Having just left it, I do feel homesick. Especially for my mommy, who writes such nice blog posts about my messy room.

But it’s in a town that’s not home. I’m going to awkwardly quote Bowling for Soup now:

I hope this song finds you well.
And I hope that you’re doin’ fuckin’ swell.
I hope that you’re back up if you’ve ever been down.
And I hope that you got the fuck out of our hometown.

I try not to refer to Gettysburg as my hometown, although it is a town which my home is in.

But then, my parents’ house isn’t my only home. I was very much reminded of that today.

Being back in Provincetown is surreal. I walk around town and everything seems less colorful than I remembered it. Smaller than I remembered it. The problem with being a child in a place and then leaving is you have this image of all streets as wide, all flags as bright. FAWC, where my dad used to be director, seemed familiar but not quite right. There was the place a cat scratched me (I was just trying to be friends!), the little house on the quad where we lived, the newly renovated offices that used to have swinging doors that I would skip through. Memories of silent auctions and days spent sitting under wooden staircases, telling myself stories.

Commercial Street was also strange. I found the coffee place where my mom would buy me muffins and scones (lemon poppyseed was my favorite, I think), but it was closed for the off-season. I found two places that sold salt-water taffy, and, wanting to buy some for myself and my brothers, I was torn. They were across the street from each other, I could remember being in both stores. Which one was better? Did I have a preference, ten years ago? I chose the one whose door was hanging open, it seemed more welcoming, but I instantly regretted it. It felt touristy and fake, the other one, out the window, looked more family-owned and homey. I was shamed, a tourist in a town that had once been home. I bought taffy and left, annoyed.

 

But then. Magic! My dad and I went over to Pat‘s house before going out to dinner with her. Everything was exactly as I had remembered it. Pat’s house is unchanged, but also organic and living. Her new dog, a wolf mix (70% wolf, Pat thinks) barked at me and I remembered that I was a stranger and that things were new, I guess, even if everything seemed perfectly congruent to my memories.

Pat’s old dog, Atisha, had been my peer as a child. We were the under-table dwellers, those who played with tennis balls, the shorter-than-everyone twosome. I had hung out with her in a den of pillows and sheepskin under a table, that den was still there. It looked impossibly small. Paintings, some by Pat and some by others, covered the walls. Plants grew everywhere. Outside, we could see the beach.

 

I can say “I never lived there, it is not my home.” But I was alive there, and it felt like home, so maybe that’s not true. I have no concept of how much time I actually spent there, if the way I feel about the house as a place is reasonable or deserved. If I am just one of many children who feels that they grew there, though maybe not up. Maybe just better.

Home for me is also a weird concept I guess because of the whole long distance relationship thing. A part of my home is always with Ari (oh hey) even though we’ve never lived in the same place. Teenage love is very self-centered, though I just told my dad that compared to other teenagers, Ari seems about 50 years old. In a good way. I have an old-person’s disease (so people tell me) so I guess we’re both secretly elderly.

Next year my home will be a little less torn. Ari got into Wesleyan. Real tears of joy happened on my end (Dad was very amused). I guess that’s a little magic too. I’m not the “tears of joy” type (usually).

I’m really happy right now.

PS: sorry about the pictures of Pat’s house. It was a terrible moment when I realized that I was in one of the most magical places in the world and only had my cell phone as a camera. Atisha’s grave is the first picture, the rest are inside Pat’s house.

They said What’s Up? And I said Giddyup

…moving on from my slightly ironic love of Sir Mix-A-Lot, this is a What’s Up? Post. So, hey self, What’s Up?

-tomorrow I’m going to Provincetown! Eyyo

-there might not be wi-fi there…. what? How to survive?

-Sunday I’ll be back on campus 🙂

-totally thought I was having a relapse last night! But I’m not! Thanks, @promethazine. Yay, right?

-Springtime in Gettysburg = cell phone pics. Pretty, right?

-still haven’t done all the studying/working I said I’d do over break. Guess that’s pretty unlikely now, huh?

-I made some pretty awesome desserts today (Chocolate Custard Tart and Lemon Squares from a baking blog I like)

-my Gram and my cousin Jono (er, Jonathan) visited today (hence the desserts)

-Wesleyan Admissions stuff/decisions/whatever it’s called comes out tomorrow. Er. Stress. Hey @boyfriend, it’d be cool if we went to the same college. Er. Stress.

-my next post (unless he gets rejected in which case I’ll just be like… alone in my room not writing blog posts. to be honest) will be more about Ann Romney and also about how I SHOOK HANDS with Rick Santorum

-in other news, I used up my mom’s bottle of hand sanitizer

 

and That’s What’s Up.

And Because Lately There Have Been No Pictures…

…A gallery entitled “this is what I’ve been up to”

 

A Little Political

Last year: I get diagnosed with MS. Nobody knows what that is. People are like “is it fatal?” and I’m like “nah man, do I look that upset?” JKJK

This year: People are suddenly asking me (as though I’m the authority) what I think about the giant* role that MS has taken in politics, particularly in the Republican party.

*people have now taken the time to google it

Where you’ve heard of MS lately:

1. Newt Gingrich’s wife- not the current one. What, you thought Newt Gingrich KEPT defective wives? One of his divorced wives got that way because she got diagnosed with MS.

2. Mitt Romney’s wife- Ann Romney (Mitt Romney’s current wife) has MS. Well, she says she “beat MS.” More on that later.

3. That Guy Who Testified to the Iowa State Legislature- His name is Zach Wahls but whatever. The thing you probably didn’t notice amidst all the my-lesbian-moms-are-great stuff (which I totally am for) was the my-mom-got-diagnosed-with-MS thing. Everyone skimmed over that. I noticed it. It’s casual.

So anyway, to those of you who’ve been asking what I think, here’s what I think:

a) this is just a theory. Please do not sue me, Mitt Romney.  Anyway, Ann Romney claims to have “beat” MS (not sure how, seeing as there’s no cure) and says that she is not on any medications. My theory: I think she’s on BG-12. What’s BG-12? Good question, self. BG-12 is a medication that’s currently in stage 3 testing with the FDA for use in MS patients, but it is already legal in Germany to treat psoriasis. It’s also the first real MS pill (I seriously don’t count Gilenya. If it kills you, it’s not a real medication. Sorry). So, if you were Mitt Romney, wouldn’t you get your wife some of that stuff from Germany? As SNL likes to point out, Mitt Romney has a lot of money. He can afford better words than “a lot” to describe his money.

Honestly, I hope that’s what’s happening. If it’s not, that makes Ann Romney stupid. There are a lot of MS patients who think “oh hey, I’m not having any symptoms now, why should I have to inject myself?” which sounds totally reasonable until they end up in a wheelchair because they weren’t on any meds. Basically, I think Ann Romney is a terrible role model to people with MS. Medication is the answer to MS, not horse therapy. Or magic Mormon underpants. By saying she’s not on any medication, whether it’s true or not, she’s setting a terrible example for other people with MS.

b) Newt Gingrich is a terrible person.

c) no, but REALLY

d) I don’t know why I’m obsessed with Zach Wahls’ mom having MS. It just kind of surprised me to be watching this video that everyone posted on facebook and hear “multiple sclerosis.” I know it’s not the issue he’s talking about, but somehow I was very drawn to it. Since he now has a fan base, maybe he should start talking about MS and get some (more) awareness happening.

e) Healthcare scares me. I’m learning about the welfare system in LA in regards to medical care right now, so I can tell you that if you’re below the poverty line in LA and you get stuck in the hospital, you don’t get a guest tray, telephone, or TV. This doesn’t sound so bad right? But hey, what’s a guest tray? Oh, that’s just what they call food in hospitals. What? They don’t give sick people food without making them pay extra?

Yup.

That’s literally insane.

If I didn’t have my parents health insurance, my medication would cost me $4,300 per month. That’s insane too. Since the Republican candidates are so personally involved with sick people, you’d think they’d want to take better care of us. However,

Rick Santorum: “People have no problem paying $900 for an iPad, but paying $900 for a drug they have a problem with — it keeps you alive. Why? Because you’ve been conditioned to think health care is something you can get without having to pay for it.”

…. I’ll just let you guys think about that one

anyway, so that’s what I’ve been thinking about politics/healthcare/MS. An actual update post will happen soon! In other news, there’s a new poll on the sidebar 🙂 and it’s cute. So vote in it 🙂

also, if you got to my blog through Voices, congrats on getting into Wesleyan! This blog is not usually about politics. Hi.

 

 

I’m Not Famous

….But Clay Walker is! Who’s Clay Walker, you might be wondering? That’s fine, not everybody listens to country (although personally I’m a country girl at heart) (shhh). So this is Clay Walker. Just because I wanted to save you guys the trouble of googling 🙂 

Why, you might be wondering, am I talking about Clay Walker? Because he called me today! Whoa, are you as surprised as I am? Let me explain:

-Clay Walker has MS

-I have MS (thus the blog title) 

-My uncle David lives in Houston

-Clay Walker lives in Houston

-My uncle met Clay Walker and told him about me and he decided to call me and talk about MS 

-Most famous 9 minutes of my life, right? 

The gist of this is that Clay Walker is a really cool famous person. I’m going to stop saying his name now. And just refer to him as That Famous Guy Who Called My Phone This One Time. JK. PS I have Clay Walker’s number. You can’t have it 🙂 

Anyway, in my dreams you guys who liked my facebook status about this same thing might have been thinking “it’s because of her blog” which it’s totally not (as I said, I’m not famous) (LOL @ self) but (quick segue): Thank you so much to all you readers who check my blog even when I haven’t posted anything new in forever. More than 3,000 views now! It’s really exciting to me 🙂 Also I love all the comments, I’m really sorry that I don’t respond. If it makes you feel better, I don’t respond to emails either. Mainly because social interactions stress me out. But that’s an entirely different topic! 

 

Anyway, I’m going to go back to doing what I’ve been doing this spring break: Watching Lost. And hanging with my parents. 

One Year Later (ohmygod)

Has it really been a year?

I really like anniversaries, but I have no idea what to do with this one.

Maybe I’ll have some good reflection-y things to say about this tomorrow. When they will still matter, despite the fact that it won’t be exactly one year to the day (I get obsessive about dates and anniversaries and times).

Also, the reason I haven’ been blogging recently is that I’ve been relapsing instead. And have two new lesions. For those of you keeping score, that’s MS: 6, Cade: 0 (or, alternatively, Cade: infinity)

 

Happy diagnosis day to meeeee, happy diagnosis day to meeeeeeeeeeee

 

La di da