what time does

my blog is titled, "hoarding it for home," mostly because it's the title of my favorite mates of state song but also because, when i started the blog anyway, i really wanted to go home. i wanted to be in oregon. well, now i'm here. and i wonder if i've really been hoarding anything at all. i was thinking that i should write on this more, and that maybe if i did i would feel better about where i am. it's not a shameful place to be, just transitional, but i feel like "it's okay to be in between" has become my mantra.

today i woke up and went for a jog. the air is so clean and cold here it hurts my lungs, which are used to dirty la air and cigarettes. i couldn't jog the whole time and thought that once "y control" by the yeah yeah yeahs came on i'd get my second wind. i didn't.

after jogging i surfed the internet, read the la times, looked for jobs. i applied for five yesterday though so i didn't really feel like it's necessary today. i've just got to learn to give myself a break, and to be patient. i volunteered to pick my grandpa's girlfriend up from the mechanics and bring her to our house, where my grandpa has been staying since he had a minor operation last week. her name is maria, she is from mexico but was born in barcelona, spain. she drives a nissan that i guess might have a hose leak. while we were all headed back through town, my grandpa tagged along, some how once we were done talking about the weather, the cliched notion of time flying came up. we all agreed of course. "i wish you could stop it," maria said. "or at least slow it down," i said. it felt like my birthday was just yesterday and i have another right around the corner. maria asked how old i was, when i answered she said, "really? you look like you're sixteen." ha.

@ home

i'm at home. at home in oregon. my mom is downstairs going through the mail and watching something on opb (oregon public broadcasting) called john and abigail about john and abigail adams. it is mainly narrated through their letters but live actors act out what they described in their letters. lily has fleas and she seems so miserable being so fat and itchy and all. sal just jumped up on to my desk. it's nice to be around him again even if he is a big jerk. which he is. everyone thinks so, even my mom. but he's like that cute, popular, jerk in high school that you wanted to hate but you knew he was too cute and that if he ever wanted to take you out you'd swoon. these sounds are nice: my mom downstairs, the tv on, lily's need-to-be-clipped nails on the hardwood.