The Last Day: Parte Uno

I wasn’t sure if I should report on my last full day in San Diego, especially since it’s not over. Half of it’s already gone, and I shall miss not shivering in my sleep.

My Father woke me up around 9:30am, so I got a good three hours of shuteye, then begged for another hour which consisted of me laying in bed and listening to him breaking the Dean news to my Grandmother [his mother, age 81] back in MA.

We went food shopping, so wearing a low-cut shirt and my skinny jeans was a mistake. Every creep [non-good looking, mind you] checked me out, so I decided to have a bit of fun and used what Sign Language I learned over the summer and utterly confused some. It was quite a triumphant moment. 

Also, in line I chatted with two older women about Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise [and how fucking crazy Tom is], then Nicole Kidman [and Keith Urban], then Lindsay Lohan. My Dad just pretended to read a cooking magazine or something. People always end up in some sort of conversation with either of us. We’re totally sociable.  

I felt bad talking to my Grandmother earlier today. I could hear the sadness in her voice. I know she blames herself and I know my Dad wants his “son” back. I’m guiltless when it comes to my own feelings, because for once I’m being honest.  

My Dad’s been upset [and out of it, so to speak] all day. Before we went food shopping he talked to my brother’s school’s police officer, and I guess there’s a chance he might come home tonight.

I do not want him back.

After putting the food away, we [my Dad and myself] went for a walk by the Naval Base in San Diego. He asked if I wanted to go on the docked makeshift museum-ship, and I asked if there were any cute cadets. So. We skipped the museum tour.

For the rest of the day I plan on relaxing and watching The Onion’s channel on Youtube:

“The fucking piece of shit is available now.”

I might doodle something, well, I always doodle [at least once a day, it’s impulsive], but  I haven’t been able to draw the way I wanted to since I’ve arrived, back in mid-December.

What I learned: My Dad has and always will love my brother unconditionally.

And I shall type the statement again; I do not want him back.

Dean, you bastard. Go away and take your flat-brimmed hats with you.