Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
Well it's official. Another Birthday come and gone, and here I am a whole year older.
Birthdays are not my favorite time of year.
For a lot of reasons really.
Every year this day comes, and it goes. I spend it, as often as I can, alone. There are so many questions that I don't have answers to. Many of them I never will. And even now, at 27, perhaps more so than ever, they haunt me.
Each year I mark the date of my birth and wonder to myself why it is I was born. It's not that I wish I hadn't been. Or that I don't love and enjoy my life, because the truth is that I do. But I can't help but spend the day dwelling on the woman who brought me into this world, knowingly. And peering into my tiny newborn eyes, decided I wasn't worth loving. That I was somehow marked. And that I was the beginning of her own personal fall from grace.
It's a kind of rejection I'm not likely to get over. One that lacks reason or logic. One that even lacks any discernible mythology. It just was. By all accounts she was fine before I arrived, and it was only afterwards that the cracks began to show.
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
My dad and I spent Saturday together. It's the first day we've spent together in 16 years, and it was both beautiful and strange. On the car on the way home we were talking about things. About life, and me, and the whole complicated mess that was my first 22 or so years here on Earth. He said, jokingly that I was a difficult child. And I agreed. I was difficult. It's not that I was bad, or into trouble, or anything else. I wasn't. But I was complicated. Everything with me was messy. Always messy. It immediately became apparent that he felt bad for saying it. He shouldn't have, it's the way it was, but he did. He tried to backtrack. To tell me that I really wasn't that difficult...then he paused. He said, right around fifth grade. That's when it all started spiraling out of control.
And he was right. I had to remind him of all the changes that came that year.
At the end of the fourth grade we had been expelled from Catholic school because of mom's...issues. Mom ran off to Medjugorje to see the Virgin Mary, but she didn't appear to her. They didn't tell us until the first week of school about the change. Mom decided I was too old for birthdays and hauled me off to an abortion rally instead. But I didn't make it there. I jumped out of her van at a stoplight and ran until my legs couldn't take me any farther. I hid in a tunnel behind the church playground for six hours until my dad came and found me. Mom grounded me for a month. When dad wasn't home I wasn't allowed water. But I was angry as sin and not about to be a prisoner. I threw the bunk-bed ladder through the window, climbed up on the roof and refused to come down until dad came home and understood. I was ungrounded, but the damage was done. Mom spent the rest of my adolescence trying to find someone who would have me exorcised. She started believing, really believing, that happiness was our greatest sin. We started family therapy that year, and Mom began openly blaming me for everything that had gone wrong in her life.
These things, they're just facts. Not absolute facts, but my facts. I'm sure she has her own too. I don't feel bad about them, I don't feel sorry for myself...most of the time anyway. But I also don't understand. Sure, I've written my own reasons, I have my own bedtime stories about what happened to mom and why we ended up where we did, but the reality is that they're just stories. Things I've made up over the years to explain it all to me. To make it all more or less okay.
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.
Dad changed the subject quickly. The downside to the giant mess at my sister's birthday, over the OC's comments about my issues with my mother, is that dad now refuses to talk about her with me.
When I was younger, from about the fifth grade until several years after I left home things were really messy. Mom was crazy. Not the fun kind of crazy either. The crawling in through the doggy door in the middle of the night and standing over me muttering prayers kind of crazy. Mom and dad were stuck in a prolonged separation, followed by a messy divorce and a year or so where she refused to see us. Dad, in all his worrying felt he had deprived us of a mother because they had divorced. No matter how bad she was, in his eyes she was still a mom, and we needed her. After months of pleading, we were forced into Thursday night visitation that I loathed. Most nights I got out of Dad's car and walked the 4 miles home. Mom took offense at my rejection and began a lengthy custody dispute. Dad wouldn't let me testify on my own behalf, something that drove me crazy. All mom did was say terrible things about dad. All dad did was tell me mom loved me and I was being difficult.
As a result for many years it was not only me vs mom, but me vs the world. I didn't understand the complexities of divorce, or custody cases, or even relationships in general. All I knew was mom was nuts and dad kept telling me she wasn't. For a long long time I felt that he wasn't on my side. That he didn't care enough to see what was happening, to admit, just once, even just a little bit that maybe mom was insane and it wasn't my fault.
It wasn't until my sister and I were both out of the house that I ever heard dad say one unkind word about mom. He's still careful about what he says (and it still makes me crazy). But now, when we sit around remembering her, talking about the way things were, and all of the just plain insane things we've lived through I remember that I wasn't alone in it. That dad kept his mouth shut so mom never had anything on him. That he kept us safe, made sure we never had to spend one single night in 11 years, alone with her. When I sit with him and pour over all those insane details, read over the mountains of paperwork her hurricane left behind, go through dad's journals of the dark times, I remember just how much he loves me. And how very lucky I am to have him around. Even if I didn't understand at the time. Our shared commiseration reminds me that he was abused too. That we were fighting the same battle from different posts. That we both paid very different prices, but we survived.
I tried to explain that to him, but he missed the point and changed the subject.
The point is, obviously, that I'm sad we won't be having those talks, but also that it's those talks that gave me insight into what those years were like for dad. That through it we've come together, as adults, as people, looking at our shared history together without the anger that marred so many years of our lives. We've come to understand why we've taken the paths we have and how we became the people we are. I know mom has her own side of the story too, maybe even one, however improbable, that would make me hate her just a little less.
Unfortunately for the both of us, that's a chat we'll never have. And when all is said and done, I know that that's what's best for me. That whatever I would have gained in closure, in comfort, would be surpassed by new forms of torture. Torture only the truly crazy, and those who have to live with them can imagine.
So it is on my birthday, that I also celebrate the break I've made from her. The six years I've gone without saying one single word to her, without responding to the cold and often downright evil voicemails she periodically leaves me. I puzzle over the questions that remain, I roll around in the many, many things that have gone wrong between us, I lament the loss of the relationship I should have had with her, and I remember that in the end I was brave enough to stand up on my own two feet, the two feet she gave me, and walk away.
I am blessed to have a dad as wonderful as mine is. He isn't perfect. At times he's stubborn, often times wrong, and occasionally downright annoying. But he's always on my side. He always tells me that he loves me. Even when I've screwed up in ways I never imagined were possible. Even when my life is in ruins around me and I don't know how I'll make it through the days. He's always, always there and he always helps me sort things out.
I spend the weekend before my birthday with my dad. Just sitting around, watching birds, hunting for fossils, and looking at the stars. Eternally grateful that we've made it through all this mess together, and that when all is said and done, we're still family. This year I spent a whole day with him, from dawn to dusk, and it was hands down the best present I've ever gotten. Just family time. Me and my dad.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Working through the backlog.
I have failed miserably at keeping you updated through my birthday weekend. Shame. So much shame.
Tonight sadly, is no different as I have a evolutionary primatology paper/exam to finish by tomorrow. Procrastination and I are old friends. *le sigh*
I have so much to say. Tomorrow we'll catch up. I'll try and call in the evening, okay?
MISSSSSS YOOOUUUU.......
For Thursday
For Friday
Tonight sadly, is no different as I have a evolutionary primatology paper/exam to finish by tomorrow. Procrastination and I are old friends. *le sigh*
I have so much to say. Tomorrow we'll catch up. I'll try and call in the evening, okay?
MISSSSSS YOOOUUUU.......
For Thursday
For Friday
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Do you know....
What I'm NOT doing right now? Oh, yeah. That's right. Sleeping. And why pray tell, am I still not only up, but fully alert when I have to be awake hours before the sun tomorrow? Well I'll tell you. It's because I do not in any way, shape, or form want to go to work tomorrow. Nope, not at all.
Today one person, who does not even work at my facility, who stops by for a mere 15 minutes a day was such a momentous jackass that I would just much rather stay in bed. Stupidity is contagious after all, can't I just call in stupid? Tell the boss man it's going around?
No? Really? Damn. It's shaping up to be a long snoozy day for me tomorrow then isn't it? :p
Song of the Day:
Today one person, who does not even work at my facility, who stops by for a mere 15 minutes a day was such a momentous jackass that I would just much rather stay in bed. Stupidity is contagious after all, can't I just call in stupid? Tell the boss man it's going around?
No? Really? Damn. It's shaping up to be a long snoozy day for me tomorrow then isn't it? :p
Song of the Day:
Survivor
Wednesdays are for the dogs. They're just the bleakest, most twisted, seemingly endless 24 hours of the week. I know, it might seem silly to be so fundamentally opposed to a single day, but I would be willing to argue that that's just because you lack perspective.
My perspective, to be exact.
I'd share it with you, but it's a Wednesday and I don't really feel like doing anything other than getting a good strong case of repetitive stress disorder from lazing about and scratching my butt.
This weekend, Dear Friend, is rapidly approaching. This means a great many things in my world.
First and foremost it means I will officially be yet another year older. Somehow though, I'm actually (mentally) gaining a year as I went through this whole year thinking I was a year older than I am. (How on Earth does that even happen?!) Secondly I am going fossil hunting with my dad. (Finally). It will be one month TO THE DAY from the first time we were supposed to go fossiling together and thus one month from The Great Automobile Disaster of 2011. As I no longer have a car (technically) Dad will be picking me up at my house.
This seems like it should be no big deal right? Dad and I are good friends. I love him more than life, so what does it matter if he knows where I live...well it matters Dear Friend. It matters a lot.
I have privacy issues. Big time. Second only to my ever-present mommy issues. Maybe it was all those years my mother spent stalking us...crawling in through the dog door in the middle of the night, peering through the windows of our friends houses, standing over me like a serial killer while I tried to sleep, or trying to have me exorcized. Maybe it was the way Dad dealt with the chronic anxiety/depression/anger tornado all Mommy-Dearest caused by taking the doors off all the rooms in the house and openly listening in to my phone calls. Maybe it's the way he always let himself into my first apartment to 'clean' it, and then accidentally happened to purge my house of all things that made him uncomfortable. Maybe it's the way my sister and I were always at war, snooping through each others things for something to hold over the other one. Maybe it's something different entirely. Maybe I'm just weird. It's hard to say.
All I know is that in the past 9 years I've had 11 different apartments and I have only once had my Dad over for dinner. Having family in my house is a strange and somehow invasive, anxiety ridden affair. It's like letting them crawl around in my head. I don't like it, and it's freaking me out man.
BUT if, and I do mean IF, I survive it, and the 3 hours alone in the car with Dad, it should be the best day ever. If you however, do not hear from me again, know that I went crazy. Disappeared off into the mountains, and am probably living inside that old rusted-out truck we couldn't find that day. Living off the land, and possibly the meat sourced from my own limbs.
I'll send out smoke signals. It will be just like this...only smoky-er. :)
My perspective, to be exact.
I'd share it with you, but it's a Wednesday and I don't really feel like doing anything other than getting a good strong case of repetitive stress disorder from lazing about and scratching my butt.
This weekend, Dear Friend, is rapidly approaching. This means a great many things in my world.
First and foremost it means I will officially be yet another year older. Somehow though, I'm actually (mentally) gaining a year as I went through this whole year thinking I was a year older than I am. (How on Earth does that even happen?!) Secondly I am going fossil hunting with my dad. (Finally). It will be one month TO THE DAY from the first time we were supposed to go fossiling together and thus one month from The Great Automobile Disaster of 2011. As I no longer have a car (technically) Dad will be picking me up at my house.
This seems like it should be no big deal right? Dad and I are good friends. I love him more than life, so what does it matter if he knows where I live...well it matters Dear Friend. It matters a lot.
I have privacy issues. Big time. Second only to my ever-present mommy issues. Maybe it was all those years my mother spent stalking us...crawling in through the dog door in the middle of the night, peering through the windows of our friends houses, standing over me like a serial killer while I tried to sleep, or trying to have me exorcized. Maybe it was the way Dad dealt with the chronic anxiety/depression/anger tornado all Mommy-Dearest caused by taking the doors off all the rooms in the house and openly listening in to my phone calls. Maybe it's the way he always let himself into my first apartment to 'clean' it, and then accidentally happened to purge my house of all things that made him uncomfortable. Maybe it's the way my sister and I were always at war, snooping through each others things for something to hold over the other one. Maybe it's something different entirely. Maybe I'm just weird. It's hard to say.
All I know is that in the past 9 years I've had 11 different apartments and I have only once had my Dad over for dinner. Having family in my house is a strange and somehow invasive, anxiety ridden affair. It's like letting them crawl around in my head. I don't like it, and it's freaking me out man.
BUT if, and I do mean IF, I survive it, and the 3 hours alone in the car with Dad, it should be the best day ever. If you however, do not hear from me again, know that I went crazy. Disappeared off into the mountains, and am probably living inside that old rusted-out truck we couldn't find that day. Living off the land, and possibly the meat sourced from my own limbs.
I'll send out smoke signals. It will be just like this...only smoky-er. :)
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
As I went down in the river to pray...
Goose came home a bit early from work tonight to find me in a bubble bath, in the dark, with this song blasting through the silent house.
Apparently that's creepy, (a fact only exaggerated by my own agnosticism), and reeks of suicidality. I have been asked to refrain from doing it any more. (Despite my cheery mood!)
*le sigh*
Can I do nothing in my own home?
Nothing!?
An-ey-whay...Here it is for your listening pleasure.
And please be sure to check out the remix...re-re-remix. Which is also awesome.
Tons of love.
Apparently that's creepy, (a fact only exaggerated by my own agnosticism), and reeks of suicidality. I have been asked to refrain from doing it any more. (Despite my cheery mood!)
*le sigh*
Can I do nothing in my own home?
Nothing!?
An-ey-whay...Here it is for your listening pleasure.
And please be sure to check out the remix...re-re-remix. Which is also awesome.
Tons of love.
Monday, October 24, 2011
The weekend in music.
I owe you a post, a real post. With actual words in it, rather than these brief pop-ins. Hopefully I'll get to it tonight, but I have ANOTHER calc test so we'll see.
This past weekend just flew by. I know time always manages to do that, but October always seems to go extra quick. *sad face* My October mornings are almost gone, and it's damn near my birthday again somehow. ET asks after you all the time and wants to know when you're coming home. I think you should fly back for Thanksgiving, but I know I probably won't win that battle. Miss you.
Saturday
Sunday
This past weekend just flew by. I know time always manages to do that, but October always seems to go extra quick. *sad face* My October mornings are almost gone, and it's damn near my birthday again somehow. ET asks after you all the time and wants to know when you're coming home. I think you should fly back for Thanksgiving, but I know I probably won't win that battle. Miss you.
Saturday
Sunday
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Pumpkins!
Oh Fall! Sweet, glorious fall. I love you.
Tonight we started our holiday prep in earnest. We made pumpkin tealight holders that are beyond cute and picked our our pumpkins for carving. Next weekend ET, Goose and I will be carving them up, and playing dress up for Dia De Los Muertos. It will be glorious. I am so SO sad that you can't be here for it. :(
Tonight we started our holiday prep in earnest. We made pumpkin tealight holders that are beyond cute and picked our our pumpkins for carving. Next weekend ET, Goose and I will be carving them up, and playing dress up for Dia De Los Muertos. It will be glorious. I am so SO sad that you can't be here for it. :(
Friday, October 21, 2011
Last night,
while bored and diligently avoiding my calculus project (not that that's what I'm doing right now. No, no. Not at all) I did my best to take a picture of mittens for you. She was...non-compliant. But I suppose that is to be expected. I did my best to hold her still, but as time went on (the whole process lasted a matter of seconds so 'time' as used here is really relative) she got more and more disgruntled before rapidly disintegrating into a pouty mooing beast. (Please reference photo 3). At that point I abandoned the project all together and turned my sights to other things.
Mittens, for the record, could really work on both her attitude and becoming more photogenic. Sir 'Loons on the other hand, was more than happy to chum it up for the camera. He is bigger than ever, (he can now stand on his hind legs and comfortably reach the kitchen counter with his paws which is proving troublesome) and since he's in that awkward stage between summer and winter coats, he's more scraggly and rakish than ever before. While not at all graceful, and often tripping over his own too-big feet, or falling off the sofa, does love the camera.
Mittens, for the record, could really work on both her attitude and becoming more photogenic. Sir 'Loons on the other hand, was more than happy to chum it up for the camera. He is bigger than ever, (he can now stand on his hind legs and comfortably reach the kitchen counter with his paws which is proving troublesome) and since he's in that awkward stage between summer and winter coats, he's more scraggly and rakish than ever before. While not at all graceful, and often tripping over his own too-big feet, or falling off the sofa, does love the camera.
Okay. Enough.
Oi. Okay. This week is over and I'm soooooo happy. We ran out of beds at the hospital this weeek (Thank you DOC!), so I've been running myself ragged at work, plus...you know. Midterms and stuff.
Is it just me, or did midterms drag out for an entire month?
Anyway, here are the songs I owe you for the week. I'm wrapping up our fore into queercore here, because really really, that was hard!
It's not just that 'queercore' is sort of a vast sort of amorphous category, or that there's not nearly as much out there to suit my daily moods, but you know me. I struggle to stay focused on anything for an hour, let alone a week. It's that goldfish brain thing, and I've got it bad. I see something shiny, and it just totally wipes my memory clean. Can't remember what I was doing, can't remember why I was doing it.
That was sort of the theme of this week.
...Most weeks if we're honest. Hell, most moments.
I am just exhausted to the core Dear Friend. Really and truly tired. I worked an 11 hour shift today. 11 hours. Yuck. And now I've got a calc project due by midnight that I've been putting off all semester so I suppose I'd better buckle down and get to work.
I miss you terribly. Also, I'm worried that the excess oxygen in the air from all those trees is damaging your brain. Are you losing your marbles yet? Do I need to send you a cactus to cancel some of the (leafy) greeny-green-ness out? Also, sweet pig baby looks adorable on his little leash, please don't get eaten alive by the trees on your long walks, and go easy on your ankle. Miss you dearly. Come home soon. <3
Wednesday:
Thursday:
Friday:
Is it just me, or did midterms drag out for an entire month?
Anyway, here are the songs I owe you for the week. I'm wrapping up our fore into queercore here, because really really, that was hard!
It's not just that 'queercore' is sort of a vast sort of amorphous category, or that there's not nearly as much out there to suit my daily moods, but you know me. I struggle to stay focused on anything for an hour, let alone a week. It's that goldfish brain thing, and I've got it bad. I see something shiny, and it just totally wipes my memory clean. Can't remember what I was doing, can't remember why I was doing it.
That was sort of the theme of this week.
...Most weeks if we're honest. Hell, most moments.
I am just exhausted to the core Dear Friend. Really and truly tired. I worked an 11 hour shift today. 11 hours. Yuck. And now I've got a calc project due by midnight that I've been putting off all semester so I suppose I'd better buckle down and get to work.
I miss you terribly. Also, I'm worried that the excess oxygen in the air from all those trees is damaging your brain. Are you losing your marbles yet? Do I need to send you a cactus to cancel some of the (leafy) greeny-green-ness out? Also, sweet pig baby looks adorable on his little leash, please don't get eaten alive by the trees on your long walks, and go easy on your ankle. Miss you dearly. Come home soon. <3
Wednesday:
Thursday:
Friday:
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Heart attack. Hit and Run.
Well Dear Friend, today I woke up a whole new kind of sick. As a result, I'm a little short on words.
Tomorrow I have a 3 hour proctored calc exam. Wish me luck.
I miss you terribly and I'm already dreading our first round of holidays without you. :(
Song of the day is Sleater Kinney.
Tomorrow I have a 3 hour proctored calc exam. Wish me luck.
I miss you terribly and I'm already dreading our first round of holidays without you. :(
Song of the day is Sleater Kinney.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Queercore!
You asked, Dear Friend, and so I shall deliver. All week in fact! All week! Queercore from us to you.
It amuses me to no end (NO END!!) that you discovered this genera by googling 'angry bitch music'. I find that hysterical.
Sadly for you though, it is not all angry. Some of it is cute, and happy, and just really REALLY gay.
Like this one:
We miss you Dear Friend.
Things in the desert are also terrible.
We also hate all things.
And so we sit on our couch in solidarity with you.
We raise our glasses to the hope that one day
we will be able to scorch the earth with the glare from our eyes alone,
we will be able render our enemies useless
with only the triumphant beating of our hearts,
and we will awaken to a world free of both stupidity and inconvenience.
...or simply one with more free time, chocolate, and amaretto sours.
Whichever requires less work.
Also, I will give you a million dollars, acquired through whatever means necessary, if you actually sit down and turn this crap-fest into a musical. Because I really, REALLY love a good musical. And I would kill to see a QD-based character singing his funny little heart out to the words you've chosen for him. The pleasure alone might kill me, but it would totally be worth it.
Miss you. *muah*
It amuses me to no end (NO END!!) that you discovered this genera by googling 'angry bitch music'. I find that hysterical.
Sadly for you though, it is not all angry. Some of it is cute, and happy, and just really REALLY gay.
Like this one:
We miss you Dear Friend.
Things in the desert are also terrible.
We also hate all things.
And so we sit on our couch in solidarity with you.
We raise our glasses to the hope that one day
we will be able to scorch the earth with the glare from our eyes alone,
we will be able render our enemies useless
with only the triumphant beating of our hearts,
and we will awaken to a world free of both stupidity and inconvenience.
...or simply one with more free time, chocolate, and amaretto sours.
Whichever requires less work.
Also, I will give you a million dollars, acquired through whatever means necessary, if you actually sit down and turn this crap-fest into a musical. Because I really, REALLY love a good musical. And I would kill to see a QD-based character singing his funny little heart out to the words you've chosen for him. The pleasure alone might kill me, but it would totally be worth it.
Miss you. *muah*
I'm tellin' ya...
There's something about Norway. I don't know what it is, but it seems every week I'm falling in love with another Norwegian band.
Song for Saturday:
Song for Saturday:
Lovertits
Ugh, I owe you little songs from as far back as Friday! Damn me and my lazy-laziness! This weekend has been a huge blur of grease paint and 3rd Rock from the Sun re-runs. . . I'll let you marinate on that one for a while.
Fridays song is a two-for-one, because I couldn't pick between the two. Enjoy.
Peaches reminds me of a very strange time following my first and most spectacular (read: epic) failure at trying to assimilate to life in the University. I learned, not only am I incredibly bad at being social, but also that I don't really like people much.
I came to the conclusion during this time that I would make a terrible doctor for exactly those reasons and took med school off the table. I also realized I did not have the social skills to be able to stomach life in the art world and abandoned art school. This left me in a bizarre and unanticipated educational limbo which, coupled with my lesbian hang-over from having spent the last year drowning in a writhing heap of homo-erotic drama helped to usher what you and I Dear Friend refer to, cryptically as the N*** Era.
BUT in spite of all that, or perhaps even because of it, I am hilarious, beautiful, wise beyond my years, and when home alone, I draw the shades and dance around with wild abandon to Peaches.
Miss you.
Fridays song is a two-for-one, because I couldn't pick between the two. Enjoy.
Peaches reminds me of a very strange time following my first and most spectacular (read: epic) failure at trying to assimilate to life in the University. I learned, not only am I incredibly bad at being social, but also that I don't really like people much.
I came to the conclusion during this time that I would make a terrible doctor for exactly those reasons and took med school off the table. I also realized I did not have the social skills to be able to stomach life in the art world and abandoned art school. This left me in a bizarre and unanticipated educational limbo which, coupled with my lesbian hang-over from having spent the last year drowning in a writhing heap of homo-erotic drama helped to usher what you and I Dear Friend refer to, cryptically as the N*** Era.
BUT in spite of all that, or perhaps even because of it, I am hilarious, beautiful, wise beyond my years, and when home alone, I draw the shades and dance around with wild abandon to Peaches.
Miss you.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Every Squirrel's Dream
This pretty much summarizes my day today. Yep. Happy as a squirrel in peanut butter jar. Love you.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Better.
Oh Dear Friend, I'm feeling light years better than yesterday, which is practically a miracle in my world.
And so, I am grateful.
There are a great many things that I feel I should tell you today, but they're all jumbled up...
As a result this may be less of a masterpiece and more of a blathering jumble of words, but you're cool with that right?
Awesome.
First things first.
It has been a week and a half since my computer bit the dust. This has meant a great many things for me, but most of all it means I've been cut off from my music collection. I know, I know, for years the world has been telling me to 'get an effing ipod, Little Foot'. And truth be told I did. But it was complicated, and the screen was small, and more importantly I would have to learn how to use it. Well, I never did and it is now lost in the oblivion that is the kitchen junk drawer. It's kind of like the abyssal planes of the ocean, but more packed with garbage and much harder to navigate. I dare not search for it. Instead I've carried my laptop around with me constantly for going on 4 years. I carried it with me like most people carry their phones, or like people carried boomboxes in urban America in the 90's. Now that it's gone the music is too.
I've been forced to resort to...(dun-dun-duuuun!).... *gasp* ....the radio.
The RADIO.
Ugh.
And out comes the whiny little elitist(hipster) inside of me.
But I don't LIKE the radio.
There's nothing good on the radio.
And there really REALLY isn't.
I know, I can already see my taste in music sliding down into the questionable realm of...whatever that crap is on there. The point is, Dear Friend, I'm counting on you - even from all the way up there in the land of trees and snow - to keep me in check. I expect you to keep an ear to the ground and should you, from your far away perch, ever hear me hum so much as one bar of 'moves like jager' or anything else equally unpalatable, grab a saw and start marching. Because really, there's no coming back from that. A lobotomy becomes a necessary evil, a gift of love from you to me.
Should you fail me in this, decide that perhaps it would be fun to see Little Foot singing her little heart out to Owl City or Moves Like Jager or that sticky b*tch Ke$ha, or God forbid something more awful I haven't even stumbled across yet...just remember, there is a special kind of hell awaiting you. One in which I play Rihanna videos on a continuous loop. And hold your eyelids open. 'Cause that's the way I roll.
...Now that I've said all that I can't for the life of me remember what else I had to tell you.
I saw a gaggle of children at the bus stop on my way home teaching each other to c-walk. I didn't know kids even did that anymore. You know what else? Goose can c-walk like a crazy woman. Yep. It's true. Betcha didn't see that one coming did you? It's really tragic that amidst all the drunken dancing we did at Pride, we didn't goad her into c-walking to Uh-Huh Her. Because, really-really I would have died of laughter.
And it would have totally been worth it.
I don't know Dear Friend, I don't know. There was so much stuff in my head, and now it's all mostly air and dust. Just space between my ears where thoughts should be. I guess that's how I know that it's time to wrap it up for the night eh? I miss you terribly. I wish you were here. And one day I'm going to steal you back. Better sleep with one eye open. Lots of love.
Neko Case makes me happy. She's got such a big voice. Sing along......
I’m not the man you thought I was
My love has never lived indoors
I had to drag it home by force
Hired hounds at both my wrists
Damp and bruised by stranger’s kisses on my lips
But you’re the one that I still miss
You’re the one that I still miss
And it's ruthless that it comes as no surprise
And so, I am grateful.
There are a great many things that I feel I should tell you today, but they're all jumbled up...
As a result this may be less of a masterpiece and more of a blathering jumble of words, but you're cool with that right?
Awesome.
First things first.
It has been a week and a half since my computer bit the dust. This has meant a great many things for me, but most of all it means I've been cut off from my music collection. I know, I know, for years the world has been telling me to 'get an effing ipod, Little Foot'. And truth be told I did. But it was complicated, and the screen was small, and more importantly I would have to learn how to use it. Well, I never did and it is now lost in the oblivion that is the kitchen junk drawer. It's kind of like the abyssal planes of the ocean, but more packed with garbage and much harder to navigate. I dare not search for it. Instead I've carried my laptop around with me constantly for going on 4 years. I carried it with me like most people carry their phones, or like people carried boomboxes in urban America in the 90's. Now that it's gone the music is too.
I've been forced to resort to...(dun-dun-duuuun!).... *gasp* ....the radio.
The RADIO.
Ugh.
And out comes the whiny little elitist
But I don't LIKE the radio.
There's nothing good on the radio.
And there really REALLY isn't.
I know, I can already see my taste in music sliding down into the questionable realm of...whatever that crap is on there. The point is, Dear Friend, I'm counting on you - even from all the way up there in the land of trees and snow - to keep me in check. I expect you to keep an ear to the ground and should you, from your far away perch, ever hear me hum so much as one bar of 'moves like jager' or anything else equally unpalatable, grab a saw and start marching. Because really, there's no coming back from that. A lobotomy becomes a necessary evil, a gift of love from you to me.
Should you fail me in this, decide that perhaps it would be fun to see Little Foot singing her little heart out to Owl City or Moves Like Jager or that sticky b*tch Ke$ha, or God forbid something more awful I haven't even stumbled across yet...just remember, there is a special kind of hell awaiting you. One in which I play Rihanna videos on a continuous loop. And hold your eyelids open. 'Cause that's the way I roll.
...Now that I've said all that I can't for the life of me remember what else I had to tell you.
I saw a gaggle of children at the bus stop on my way home teaching each other to c-walk. I didn't know kids even did that anymore. You know what else? Goose can c-walk like a crazy woman. Yep. It's true. Betcha didn't see that one coming did you? It's really tragic that amidst all the drunken dancing we did at Pride, we didn't goad her into c-walking to Uh-Huh Her. Because, really-really I would have died of laughter.
And it would have totally been worth it.
I don't know Dear Friend, I don't know. There was so much stuff in my head, and now it's all mostly air and dust. Just space between my ears where thoughts should be. I guess that's how I know that it's time to wrap it up for the night eh? I miss you terribly. I wish you were here. And one day I'm going to steal you back. Better sleep with one eye open. Lots of love.
Neko Case makes me happy. She's got such a big voice. Sing along......
I’m not the man you thought I was
My love has never lived indoors
I had to drag it home by force
Hired hounds at both my wrists
Damp and bruised by stranger’s kisses on my lips
But you’re the one that I still miss
You’re the one that I still miss
And it's ruthless that it comes as no surprise
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Delirium.
Three days. Three nights.
Lemon water, chicken
Water, water make me retch.
I am too pure for you or anyone.
Your body
Hurts me as the world hurts God. I am a lantern——
My head a moon
Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin
Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive.
(Taken from Fever 103°. Sylvia Plath)
I stayed home today.
Mumbling poetry under my breath.
I cannot go to school today, said little Peggy Anne McKay...
I rolled around in sweaty sheets from sundown yesterday until well past noon today.
Waiting for my fever to subside.
Somewhere in the middle there I lost my voice.
All of it. Even my whispers are silent.
I have survived on cough drops and Nyquil.
My skin has all gone sore.
I am unable to distinguish the delirium
As a gift of the fever or side effect of the medicine.
Now Goose has gone off to work and I am alone.
I am a pitiful sack of fleshy germs when I'm ill.
Unable to focus.
Unwilling to take care of myself.
Instead I just slink about in slow motion.
Watching the second hand drag its way around the clock face.
Listening for the sound of the key in the lock.
Picking at the growing layers of crust in my eyes.
Tomorrow I have a midterm.
Bright and sunshiny early.
On soil horizons and taphonomy.
If I'm very good, or really lucky, I'll be better by then.
Song of the Day for today is by The Raincoats, really makes you miss 1996 don't it?
No? Not so much? At any rate, it's got a Lou Reed meets Psycho vibe that makes me light-hearted.
Even when I'm too sick to take care of myself.
Love you tons Dear Friend.
Lemon water, chicken
Water, water make me retch.
I am too pure for you or anyone.
Your body
Hurts me as the world hurts God. I am a lantern——
My head a moon
Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin
Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive.
(Taken from Fever 103°. Sylvia Plath)
I stayed home today.
Mumbling poetry under my breath.
I cannot go to school today, said little Peggy Anne McKay...
I rolled around in sweaty sheets from sundown yesterday until well past noon today.
Waiting for my fever to subside.
Somewhere in the middle there I lost my voice.
All of it. Even my whispers are silent.
I have survived on cough drops and Nyquil.
My skin has all gone sore.
I am unable to distinguish the delirium
As a gift of the fever or side effect of the medicine.
Now Goose has gone off to work and I am alone.
I am a pitiful sack of fleshy germs when I'm ill.
Unable to focus.
Unwilling to take care of myself.
Instead I just slink about in slow motion.
Watching the second hand drag its way around the clock face.
Listening for the sound of the key in the lock.
Picking at the growing layers of crust in my eyes.
Tomorrow I have a midterm.
Bright and sunshiny early.
On soil horizons and taphonomy.
If I'm very good, or really lucky, I'll be better by then.
Song of the Day for today is by The Raincoats, really makes you miss 1996 don't it?
No? Not so much? At any rate, it's got a Lou Reed meets Psycho vibe that makes me light-hearted.
Even when I'm too sick to take care of myself.
Love you tons Dear Friend.
Yesterday
So I was too sick to post yesterday, and I'm mostly too sick to post today, but here's a song for yesterday.
Every now and then I just need a simple happy song to bounce around too. Especially when I'm sick.
xoxo
Every now and then I just need a simple happy song to bounce around too. Especially when I'm sick.
xoxo
Monday, October 10, 2011
What's so amazing, that keeps us stargazing?
Oh Dear Friend. The song for today is the Carpenter's version of The Rainbow Connection.
This is my second favorite childhood song, second only to the theme song to The Land Before Time, which would have also fit my mood today. This one only won out because I love the Carpenters, and Karen's voice, even when it's happy has a far-off kind of sad quality that reminds me the way Sylvia Plath's voice sounds in my mind.
Today I decided, definitively instead of tentatively, that everything will be better from here on out. Not forever per-say, but for the near-immediate future. I figure, you and I, we've had a rough go of the past several months, (or you know, years...whatever) and all that good stuff we've got coming to us, well, it's way past due.
You and I, we'll be okay. We'll just keep muddling through all this yuck like we always do, and things will work out to one degree or another. The sun will keep rising. Time will keep passing. And we'll keep getting on with life. Because really, when it comes down to it, we're a couple of tough-ass bitches. Even when we don't want to admit it. We patch up our wounds (or cough up all the green snot out of our lungs) and live to fight another day. Even when we're totally exhausted and beyond overwhelmed. If for no other reason, than because we can't quite seem to sit still.
And that Dear Friend, along with a million other reasons, is why I love you so dearly.
Some day we'll find it
The rainbow connection
The lovers, the dreamers, and me.
This is my second favorite childhood song, second only to the theme song to The Land Before Time, which would have also fit my mood today. This one only won out because I love the Carpenters, and Karen's voice, even when it's happy has a far-off kind of sad quality that reminds me the way Sylvia Plath's voice sounds in my mind.
Today I decided, definitively instead of tentatively, that everything will be better from here on out. Not forever per-say, but for the near-immediate future. I figure, you and I, we've had a rough go of the past several months, (or you know, years...whatever) and all that good stuff we've got coming to us, well, it's way past due.
You and I, we'll be okay. We'll just keep muddling through all this yuck like we always do, and things will work out to one degree or another. The sun will keep rising. Time will keep passing. And we'll keep getting on with life. Because really, when it comes down to it, we're a couple of tough-ass bitches. Even when we don't want to admit it. We patch up our wounds (or cough up all the green snot out of our lungs) and live to fight another day. Even when we're totally exhausted and beyond overwhelmed. If for no other reason, than because we can't quite seem to sit still.
And that Dear Friend, along with a million other reasons, is why I love you so dearly.
Some day we'll find it
The rainbow connection
The lovers, the dreamers, and me.
Two little fish.
Well the car situation is fixed...for now at least. Gooses' dad gave us a car for the time being. It's a beat up old Cavalier, but it moves, and really that's all that matters.
Today is the first day back at work for the dear, sweet Goose. I know this is a bad idea, but she's stubborn as all-get-out and will have to come to that conclusion on her own. She's an hour and a half into her shift and is currently in a stupid amount of pain despite her pain meds. :( Poor love.
On the way to drop her off today we came to the conclusion that it is time for a new vacuum cleaner. Our old one is on it's last leg. I'm pretty sure this is due to the fact that although Goose vacuums diligently, she does not wind up the cord properly and doesn't empty the dust tank enough...but that's a rant for another time.
I told her I would get a new one while she was at work. It didn't quite work out like that.
I left Goose, debating vacuum cleaners to myself. I want a Dyson, but really, I don't need to spend that kind of money on one until Goose gets the aforementioned issues taken care of. So crap vacuum it is. I drive pondering where to go, and end up debating between Target and Walmart. I decide I can probably get a better deal at Walmart, but then realize that I can't stand Walmart and decide on Target.
As I'm waiting at a red light to head off to Target I see a store called Pet Club. I wonder to myself what on earth they sell in that tiny little shop. Probably not dogs. I can't imagine they have room for large animals. It's probably just small rodents and fish. Maybe birds.
I bet Goose would love some fish, I think to myself. Two little fish. Probably black-moore goldfish. You know, the black ones with the bubbly eyes. They would be friends. We could call them Milo and Otis, or something equally cringe-worthy.
Before I know it I have driven to a pet store, parked the car and am standing in front of the wall-o-fish with a cart full of fishy supplies and no vacuum cleaner. I look down, horrified at how I've managed to do the exact opposite of what I set out to do.
Are fish the opposite of a vacuum cleaner?
Clearly yes...
Anyway, here I am, eyes glazing over, cart full of fish accessories....and I just totally panic. I run from the store. Run like life depends on it. Never looking back. I run so fast I imagine time stops. I get into the car and lock the door. I sit, heart pounding, staring wild-eyed back at the pet shop.
Did anyone see me? Can I really run faster than the mind can process images? Did I really stop time? Probably not.
Why is that guy staring at me like that? Oh...right...
Awkward.
What you Dear Friend, may not know, is that this is a recurring issue with me. I get sent off to the store by Goose, on a mission of sorts, and somehow manage not only to buy the wrong things, but to go to the wrong stores. I return home triumphant, not with the missing ceviche ingredients but with beer and make-up. Not with dog food, but with a new chisel set and six balls of yarn. Where exactly is it that things begin to go awry? Well, that I don't know. But I'm pretty sure it has something to do with my attention span and the fact that I'm easily distracted.
I sat in the car outside the pet shop for a good ten minutes trying to figure out what to do. If I continue on my journey to get a vacuum, what on earth am I going to come home with? What weird connections will my brain make along the way? What shiny thing will distract me, and more than that, what strange story will I have to tell to justify it?
Afraid of my own bizarre habits, I drove home. I am now, sitting here on the couch, trying to figure out what I'm going to tell Goose when she notices there is no shiny new vacuum cleaner in the closet....and wondering just what she's going to say when I tell her in my head, 'go get a vacuum cleaner' sounds an awful lot like 'I sure do wish we had some pet fish'.
Today is the first day back at work for the dear, sweet Goose. I know this is a bad idea, but she's stubborn as all-get-out and will have to come to that conclusion on her own. She's an hour and a half into her shift and is currently in a stupid amount of pain despite her pain meds. :( Poor love.
On the way to drop her off today we came to the conclusion that it is time for a new vacuum cleaner. Our old one is on it's last leg. I'm pretty sure this is due to the fact that although Goose vacuums diligently, she does not wind up the cord properly and doesn't empty the dust tank enough...but that's a rant for another time.
I told her I would get a new one while she was at work. It didn't quite work out like that.
I left Goose, debating vacuum cleaners to myself. I want a Dyson, but really, I don't need to spend that kind of money on one until Goose gets the aforementioned issues taken care of. So crap vacuum it is. I drive pondering where to go, and end up debating between Target and Walmart. I decide I can probably get a better deal at Walmart, but then realize that I can't stand Walmart and decide on Target.
As I'm waiting at a red light to head off to Target I see a store called Pet Club. I wonder to myself what on earth they sell in that tiny little shop. Probably not dogs. I can't imagine they have room for large animals. It's probably just small rodents and fish. Maybe birds.
I bet Goose would love some fish, I think to myself. Two little fish. Probably black-moore goldfish. You know, the black ones with the bubbly eyes. They would be friends. We could call them Milo and Otis, or something equally cringe-worthy.
Before I know it I have driven to a pet store, parked the car and am standing in front of the wall-o-fish with a cart full of fishy supplies and no vacuum cleaner. I look down, horrified at how I've managed to do the exact opposite of what I set out to do.
Are fish the opposite of a vacuum cleaner?
Clearly yes...
Anyway, here I am, eyes glazing over, cart full of fish accessories....and I just totally panic. I run from the store. Run like life depends on it. Never looking back. I run so fast I imagine time stops. I get into the car and lock the door. I sit, heart pounding, staring wild-eyed back at the pet shop.
Did anyone see me? Can I really run faster than the mind can process images? Did I really stop time? Probably not.
Why is that guy staring at me like that? Oh...right...
Awkward.
What you Dear Friend, may not know, is that this is a recurring issue with me. I get sent off to the store by Goose, on a mission of sorts, and somehow manage not only to buy the wrong things, but to go to the wrong stores. I return home triumphant, not with the missing ceviche ingredients but with beer and make-up. Not with dog food, but with a new chisel set and six balls of yarn. Where exactly is it that things begin to go awry? Well, that I don't know. But I'm pretty sure it has something to do with my attention span and the fact that I'm easily distracted.
I sat in the car outside the pet shop for a good ten minutes trying to figure out what to do. If I continue on my journey to get a vacuum, what on earth am I going to come home with? What weird connections will my brain make along the way? What shiny thing will distract me, and more than that, what strange story will I have to tell to justify it?
Afraid of my own bizarre habits, I drove home. I am now, sitting here on the couch, trying to figure out what I'm going to tell Goose when she notices there is no shiny new vacuum cleaner in the closet....and wondering just what she's going to say when I tell her in my head, 'go get a vacuum cleaner' sounds an awful lot like 'I sure do wish we had some pet fish'.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Songs for the Days!
Okay, I wrote you a whole long glorious post yesterday and there was a posting error and it was lost. LOST. *facepalm*
I tried to re-write it, but it seemed my issues were symptomatic of the craptastic week I've been trudging through and so eventually I just gave up.
Sorry about that.
I'd write you some more, but I'm up to my eyeballs in school work so it's going to have to wait.
Basically the long and short of it, is that the weather went from sunny and hot to rainy and cold in no time. It's been hovering around 60 degrees and rainy in the mornings, which is unpleasant since I have to ride 10 miles to work at 5am but what can I do? Exactly. Nada. Just gotta pull on the big kid panties and get on with it. Which is exactly what I've been doing.
Other than that Dad has finally calmed down about the car accident and stopped updating me every 6 seconds. Now we're back to 2 phone calls a day, however, he tends to stick to politics, which as a general rule, I do everything in my power to avoid for a a whole slue of reasons I don't have the time or the energy to get into. Blah.
Goose is getting better, but is still really really sore and generally immobile.
I hope things have been better there than here. We miss you terribly and hope your well. Tons of love, from us to you.
Song of the day:
Too many words on the the tip of my tongue and
I can never figure out
When to speak when to shout when to shut up
When to knock myself out
I need a brainwash
Gray-matter bath
I need the clutter all
Thrown in the trash
I need a brain wash, cause I'm a loon
So could ya please throw my head in a tub?
I could really use a cerebral scrub
Wash away what I know
It's an overrated frontal lobe
Expensive thrills
sexual perversity
are always filling my mind
Mixed with guilt
Cause of bombs over Dresden
Are kinda bringing me down
I need a brainwash
Gray-matter bath
I need the clutter all
Thrown in the trash
I need a brain wash, cause I'm a loon
Cause I'm a psycho-babble brain
A real life looney-toon
A mixed up maniac, I'm certifiable
So put me in a room right next to Nicholson
And give me Thorazine Cause all I wanna do
Is sing traditional songs
But I like to sing in minor technologies
Not making sense
So could you please throw my head in a tub
I could really use a cerebral scrub
Wash away all I know
It's an over rated frontal lobe
And one for yesterday:
Running Bear loved Little White Dove
With a love, big as the sky.
I tried to re-write it, but it seemed my issues were symptomatic of the craptastic week I've been trudging through and so eventually I just gave up.
Sorry about that.
I'd write you some more, but I'm up to my eyeballs in school work so it's going to have to wait.
Basically the long and short of it, is that the weather went from sunny and hot to rainy and cold in no time. It's been hovering around 60 degrees and rainy in the mornings, which is unpleasant since I have to ride 10 miles to work at 5am but what can I do? Exactly. Nada. Just gotta pull on the big kid panties and get on with it. Which is exactly what I've been doing.
Other than that Dad has finally calmed down about the car accident and stopped updating me every 6 seconds. Now we're back to 2 phone calls a day, however, he tends to stick to politics, which as a general rule, I do everything in my power to avoid for a a whole slue of reasons I don't have the time or the energy to get into. Blah.
Goose is getting better, but is still really really sore and generally immobile.
I hope things have been better there than here. We miss you terribly and hope your well. Tons of love, from us to you.
Song of the day:
Too many words on the the tip of my tongue and
I can never figure out
When to speak when to shout when to shut up
When to knock myself out
I need a brainwash
Gray-matter bath
I need the clutter all
Thrown in the trash
I need a brain wash, cause I'm a loon
So could ya please throw my head in a tub?
I could really use a cerebral scrub
Wash away what I know
It's an overrated frontal lobe
Expensive thrills
sexual perversity
are always filling my mind
Mixed with guilt
Cause of bombs over Dresden
Are kinda bringing me down
I need a brainwash
Gray-matter bath
I need the clutter all
Thrown in the trash
I need a brain wash, cause I'm a loon
Cause I'm a psycho-babble brain
A real life looney-toon
A mixed up maniac, I'm certifiable
So put me in a room right next to Nicholson
And give me Thorazine Cause all I wanna do
Is sing traditional songs
But I like to sing in minor technologies
Not making sense
So could you please throw my head in a tub
I could really use a cerebral scrub
Wash away all I know
It's an over rated frontal lobe
And one for yesterday:
Running Bear loved Little White Dove
With a love, big as the sky.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Lemonade
Oh Dear Friend, if I asked you nicely would you come home today? Come sit on the floor with me while I push my way through all this muck and remind me that things are not actually always this bad? Everything seems so much harder now that you're gone. Not so much because you had to go, but because hanging out with you on rough nights is no longer an option. And I hate not having options.
These entries sometimes read like love letters. Have you noticed that? Which is kind of funny, so there's always that I guess.
How's life up there with Maw and Paw and QD? Are you going crazy? I just started re-reading Ariel, which has been helping me feel less alone in my own anxiety ridden, teetering-on-the-edge-of-crazy craziness.
Really, I was doing pretty well until my dad, who I really really love to death, and who means well, started with the incessant phone calls/text messages/emails. On my own I was functioning at about 96%. Now my days are punctuated every 45 seconds with frantic text messages (Call when able. ASAP!!!! VRY IMPRTNT!!!! Orange alert!!!! etc.), just because dad wants to check in. As a result I'm managing to function at about -40%. I wander around, continually on the verge of a heart attack, I am running only on adrenaline at this point and live in damn near constant fear of my phone. I'd turn it off, but then Dad would just show up (again) and we'd have to do this whole dance in person...fifty times a day. What I really want...need. What I really need is ten damn minutes to myself. Ten minutes to get my blood pressure down. Ten minutes to eat some food. Ten minutes to just sit in silence and do absolutely nothing.
Apparently that's totally out of the question. *le sigh*
Something good has to come out of this right? Maybe?
Here's a song for today.
It was Cinco de Mayo
Pillow case on his head
No more breathing time
An ambulance sped
It sped round every corner
Calling out his name
Shot a rabbit from the back seat window
Sat and watched the summer corn grow
Ate ice cream in a desert dream
And got lost in father's singing
Too hot inside
Too hot outside
Lazy days when I said let's go for a ride
We'd sail on Spirit Lake
Me, my pappy, and his lemonade.
These entries sometimes read like love letters. Have you noticed that? Which is kind of funny, so there's always that I guess.
How's life up there with Maw and Paw and QD? Are you going crazy? I just started re-reading Ariel, which has been helping me feel less alone in my own anxiety ridden, teetering-on-the-edge-of-crazy craziness.
Really, I was doing pretty well until my dad, who I really really love to death, and who means well, started with the incessant phone calls/text messages/emails. On my own I was functioning at about 96%. Now my days are punctuated every 45 seconds with frantic text messages (Call when able. ASAP!!!! VRY IMPRTNT!!!! Orange alert!!!! etc.), just because dad wants to check in. As a result I'm managing to function at about -40%. I wander around, continually on the verge of a heart attack, I am running only on adrenaline at this point and live in damn near constant fear of my phone. I'd turn it off, but then Dad would just show up (again) and we'd have to do this whole dance in person...fifty times a day. What I really want...need. What I really need is ten damn minutes to myself. Ten minutes to get my blood pressure down. Ten minutes to eat some food. Ten minutes to just sit in silence and do absolutely nothing.
Apparently that's totally out of the question. *le sigh*
Something good has to come out of this right? Maybe?
Here's a song for today.
It was Cinco de Mayo
Pillow case on his head
No more breathing time
An ambulance sped
It sped round every corner
Calling out his name
Shot a rabbit from the back seat window
Sat and watched the summer corn grow
Ate ice cream in a desert dream
And got lost in father's singing
Too hot inside
Too hot outside
Lazy days when I said let's go for a ride
We'd sail on Spirit Lake
Me, my pappy, and his lemonade.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Zombie laptop rises again!
It works!!! Totally completely works! Hooray! Computer disaster avoided. Thank you universe.
[edit] never mind. It's refusing to charge and now is totally dead. poo.
[edit] never mind. It's refusing to charge and now is totally dead. poo.
Богу молись, а добра-ума держись.
Well Dear Friend, we're alive. Other than that not much is going right around these parts. In the mean time we're hoping for a miracle, and preparing for the world to end.
So far the car is totaled. The other guys car is totaled. It's not looking like insurance is going to cover much of anything and we are looking at a prolonged period of car-less-ness. (Oh, first world problems, how you mock me). Goose is pretty badly beat up physically and emotionally, and my dear sweet dad who is trying his hardest to help is making me crazy by calling/texting/emailing me every 15 minutes for the past 72 hours to 'update' me on...nothing really.
Other than that I'm smack in the middle of midterms for half of my classes, finals for the other half. Which of course means life is about to get messy.
And it did.
Somewhere on the long bike ride home today my water bottle exploded soaking among other things, my macbook with all of my course work on it. *facepalm*
So far it seems broken. I've dismantled it and washed all the parts. I cleaned them again with rubbing alcohol. And now I am letting it air dry. I've saved this computer twice before, so now I'm just praying for one last save. Something's gotta go my way right?
Hope things are better in your world. Lots of love.
Oh, right, and blogspot won't let me put the accents on my Russian, which in the scheme of things is not really a big deal, but I still find it to be insanely irritating.
Apparently it's a first world problems kind of day. So here's this:
So far the car is totaled. The other guys car is totaled. It's not looking like insurance is going to cover much of anything and we are looking at a prolonged period of car-less-ness. (Oh, first world problems, how you mock me). Goose is pretty badly beat up physically and emotionally, and my dear sweet dad who is trying his hardest to help is making me crazy by calling/texting/emailing me every 15 minutes for the past 72 hours to 'update' me on...nothing really.
Other than that I'm smack in the middle of midterms for half of my classes, finals for the other half. Which of course means life is about to get messy.
And it did.
Somewhere on the long bike ride home today my water bottle exploded soaking among other things, my macbook with all of my course work on it. *facepalm*
So far it seems broken. I've dismantled it and washed all the parts. I cleaned them again with rubbing alcohol. And now I am letting it air dry. I've saved this computer twice before, so now I'm just praying for one last save. Something's gotta go my way right?
Hope things are better in your world. Lots of love.
Oh, right, and blogspot won't let me put the accents on my Russian, which in the scheme of things is not really a big deal, but I still find it to be insanely irritating.
Apparently it's a first world problems kind of day. So here's this:
Sunday, October 2, 2011
And then that happened.
Well I was all set to go fossiling with my dad yesterday when I decided to send Goose out for Starbucks. I shouted playfully after her, 'And remember, don't crash my car!'. Then of course, she crashed my car.
I'll spare you the details, mostly because all I've done all weekend is fill out reports and repeat the details. It has gotten really really old. Anyway, Goose got T-Boned turning left off the street our complex is on. I got the call while I was in the shower and ran down there soaking wet and barefoot, but wearing clothes. (Thank god for small blessings.) Anyway. The car is destroyed. In fact as I was approaching it I didn't even think it was my car.
But it was. And now it's dead.
Goose was being attended to by the paramedics and I couldn't get close, but she was pretty clearly hurt. One of them came and told me they were going to take her to the hospital I work at, but once the guy started checking out her pelvis he changed his mind. Off Goose went the the trauma center. They told me I could ride with her, but I'd already promised the police I'd stay behind and help get the insurance stuff taken care of.
This necessitated a trip back to the house, which allowed me to grab shoes (hooray) but when I went to lock the house up I realized my keys were still in the ignition. By the time I got back to the crash site my car had already been towed and my keys were gone. *facepalm* We finished up at the site and the police officer gave me a ride to the hospital.
Goose was in a state when I got there, poor sweet, sweet Goose. She was hooked up to all kinds of things and puffy eyed and shaking. We spent most of the day at the hospital (She-she and Lavondrius came too). X-rays came back clear. There was blood in her urine but the CAT scan came back clear so they said not to worry about it. The nurse told us she'd start bruising pretty quickly and that it was going to be gnarly. And it is.
So that's that.
I'll try and post some pictures of both poor little Goose, and the car when I get the time. Right now though, I'm going back to bed.
I'll spare you the details, mostly because all I've done all weekend is fill out reports and repeat the details. It has gotten really really old. Anyway, Goose got T-Boned turning left off the street our complex is on. I got the call while I was in the shower and ran down there soaking wet and barefoot, but wearing clothes. (Thank god for small blessings.) Anyway. The car is destroyed. In fact as I was approaching it I didn't even think it was my car.
But it was. And now it's dead.
Goose was being attended to by the paramedics and I couldn't get close, but she was pretty clearly hurt. One of them came and told me they were going to take her to the hospital I work at, but once the guy started checking out her pelvis he changed his mind. Off Goose went the the trauma center. They told me I could ride with her, but I'd already promised the police I'd stay behind and help get the insurance stuff taken care of.
This necessitated a trip back to the house, which allowed me to grab shoes (hooray) but when I went to lock the house up I realized my keys were still in the ignition. By the time I got back to the crash site my car had already been towed and my keys were gone. *facepalm* We finished up at the site and the police officer gave me a ride to the hospital.
Goose was in a state when I got there, poor sweet, sweet Goose. She was hooked up to all kinds of things and puffy eyed and shaking. We spent most of the day at the hospital (She-she and Lavondrius came too). X-rays came back clear. There was blood in her urine but the CAT scan came back clear so they said not to worry about it. The nurse told us she'd start bruising pretty quickly and that it was going to be gnarly. And it is.
So that's that.
I'll try and post some pictures of both poor little Goose, and the car when I get the time. Right now though, I'm going back to bed.
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