Samoa Cookies Are Dead To Me, AKA I Miss My Sister Already

These past few weeks have been a blur. Not a regular blur. A category five BUH-LUR. And it went by way too fast, because the thing I’ve been dreading has happened.

My sister is gone.

Well, not like GONE  gone. She’s coming back eventually. But I won’t see her for at least a year, and I’m a mess.

Not a good look for me.
Not a good look for me.

And I’m totally  a selfish ass for feeling so morose about her going away. I mean, she’s doing an amazing thing: the WorldTeach organization is all about “making a meaningful contribution to international education by living and working as a volunteer teacher in developing  countries.” (They say developing, I say DANGER DANGER SOMEBODY CALL IX-I-I!)

So that’s what she’s doing. She paid her own money  to volunteer in American Samoa for a year to teach science to the local kids on Tutuila. Who does that?! Who gives up a cushy life in Westlake Village to move to BFE—er, BFAS?—to teach science in a developing country?!

Someone pretty remarkable, that’s who.

South Pacific,1. California, 0.

Poor random Samoan is getting all my rage.
Directing all my rage at this random Samoan. Sorry, sir.

We hit a rough patch earlier this year and I lost time I wish I’d gotten to spend with her, but we parted ways on a high note and that’s all the matters to me. I just don’t know what I’m going to do without her. She can be a rock solid pain in my ass (and I to her), and I love her to death for it. Not in spite of it, but because of it. We’re so different, but we’re so similar, and I don’t know what I’m going to do without my Beave.

Sometimes my imagination goes into overdrive and creates in vivid detail worst-case scenarios (because that’s what happens when you combine being an insane person with being an INFP), and I totally lose my shit and yell at myself for even thinking about it, but I can’t help it. It’s what I do.

In the past, though, I’ve always been less than a 6 hour drive away from her in case something did  happen. And now? She just spent 21 hours traveling to her new home. I have NO idea how to talk myself down now that I can’t get to her. Yes, she’s a grown woman: a strong, intelligent, brave one at that, but still. I’m older and wiser and better at getting out of trouble than she is, and I HATE HATE DOUBLE HATE that I can’t be nearby to keep an eye on her, or even just see her stupid face.

This is reason 513 I'll miss her.
This is reason 513 I’ll miss her.

So that’s why I’ve been neglecting What’s Up Wednesday and Fiction Friday. It’s hard to be creative when you’re throwing yourself into organizing going away parties to distract yourself from the fact that your baby sister is leaving you for a long, long time.

But even though the catalyst for this past month’s blurriness is gone (cut to me choking back sobs), things are still on an accelerated trajectory towards WHOASLOWTHEFUCKDOWNsville, because next week is the week.

COMIC CON IS NIGH.

(That’s code for “we’re still not returning to our regularly scheduled blog programming.”)

It’s also code for “get ready for endless Twitter rants about the line for Ballroom 20 and running into celebrities and me generally being an intolerable pain in the ass for 5 days straight.” Sorry, but Comic Con is 24/7, and I have backup batteries for my phone this year. NO SLEEP TIL SUNDAY!

This is my and Tiff and Joey‘s anthem for what promises to be a very caffeinated Comic Con.

Don’t judge. It’s what I do…and it’ll distract me from the fact that I’m dying inside now that my sister is floating somewhere in the South Pacific doing tikigod knows what. (YES, I know tiki gods are Polynesian and Samoans are like 140% Christian. I’m just trying [or failing] to be clever, put down that pitchfork).

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2 thoughts on “Samoa Cookies Are Dead To Me, AKA I Miss My Sister Already

  1. Bev

    Yeah, missing someone really sucks–helpless, frustrating, empty, angry feelings. I know it’s not the same, but you’ll still be in touch, right? And now you have a perfect excuse to go to Samoa; that’s not such a bad thing.

    As one catastrophizer to another–when you find yourself imagining the worst, make it even more ridiculously absurd by adding aliens or zombies or sharknados (I hear they’re all the rage). Actually, I can usually relieve a lot of my imagination-driven anxiety by telling Tom what I’m afraid will happen. Then he gives me a puzzled look and says, “Why the hell would that happen?” Or he just laughs. In either case, usually just saying it out loud helps to reveal it’s improbability.

    And I’m absolutely looking forward to your ComicCon tweets! I’m going to use them to develop an algorithm for measuring sleep deprivation and deterioration of cognitive function, which I will then sell to the DoD.

  2. Aw, I loved hearing about your sister. I’m incredibly close with my younger sister, and hearing her talk about leaving this area and going to college someplace far away…it makes my head hurt. But, wow, does your sister sound like she’s doing some incredible things.
    I hope ComicCon provides you with some great distractions. 🙂 Have fun!

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