Wednesday, October 8, 2008

April 2006 Archive

April 30, 2006
It's close enough to a new month to start a new page. I need a blank canvas, something fresh and not littered with funeral details and sympathy and pain.
So I indulged in looking at a JCrew catalog for a bit last night, and I came across this picture.
Apparently, her pants are so awful that this guy is throwing himself off a boat into shark-infested waters to escape.
And this guy, his pants are apparently so terrible, he's about to hang himself...and rightfully so. The outfit comes complete with a mental institution ID bracelet.

"My girlfriend bought these for me.
It started with granola, and now this.
Life just isn't worth living anymore."

I'm 30 in 4 more days. T-3 and counting. Holding pattern steady for "old."
I was downright manic today. I was so up and cheery and psychotically hyper, I seriously considered committing myself. No one should ever be that happy. It's been a roller coaster ride of normalcy and hideous depression so far. Today was the first psychotically "up" day I've had. I killed all chipmunks in a five-mile radius with my sheer, unmitigated glee.
I've been dying to get out to a club lately. But going out on Friday night and then having to get up on Saturday morning only to spend the day watching my mom weep as we clean out the house is just too much, emotionally and physically. I can't wait till this part is over. It's got to be easier when it's not thrown in your face every week, to re-open a wound that might have at least stopped gushing blood by that point.
I officially joined the ranks of rednecks everywhere tonight. I used duct tape to fix my fraying carpet edges along the tile floors of the kitchen and bathroom. The landlord said last week he might lay new carpet in the living room this summer, but he didn't really have a solution other than that. The floors in this place are concrete, so hammering down something new is pretty much out of the question. So, tired of destroying my socks and puncturing my heels on the carpet tacks that stick straight up from the threadbare area, I decided to just buy some damn duct tape and at least make it look .05% less trashy...if that's possible with duct tape.
And then Kevin discovered that duct wasn't enough to stop the tacks from puncturing our feet. I walked around the apartment trying to think of something flat, thin, and solid that I could place over the three tacks that just won't hammer down. I walked next door to ask the guys over there, and Mike...brilliant Mike...said, "What about a penny?" I hadn't thought of a penny. But damn it, a penny was perfect. Squealing and shouting my thanks, I ran back and taped some pennies down. So now I have duct tape AND pennies stuck to my rug. /sigh But it works, dammit.
But we ARE getting a new kitchen faucet, which is awesome. Our toilet broke around 11:30pm last Sunday night. To make it flush, we had to reach our hands down the back of the toilet and pull the plunger thingie up manually. I was less than thrilled, but that was fixed pretty quickly. I'm kind of excited about the new kitchen faucet. I would give a vital (but duplicate) organ if he would put a shower kit in. I will NEVER have tile in my bathroom when I own a house. Never. Cleaning the grout is an impossible and never-ending task. And bathroom floor tile. Oh god, if we could have some decent bathroom floor tile, I would weep with joy.
This place is such a dump. But the rent is ridiculously cheap, and it allows us to continue to save our money. So until we're ready for a house, we're not budging.
April 25, 2006
Home again, home again, jiggity jig
I just got home from our spring conference in Columbus. It was at the Easton Hilton. They had a conference room for us, but they didn't have any open rooms. So we stayed at the Courtyard Marriott. I don't travel all that much, but I have to say that the beds at the Courtyard Marriott are PHENOMENAL. I have never slept in a hotel bed that soft and with sheets like buttah. And the pillows were pretty swank as well. It was the best night's sleep I've ever gotten in a hotel.
April 24, 2006
Brokeback to the Future
April 23, 2006
It dawned on me today that my current lack of concern for other people's feelings was spot on with how he-who-cannot-be-named treated me. I understand now why he was the way he was, but he was wrong. You shouldn't treat people like that. It's just anger. He lost two fathers, one that never wanted him born and one that loved him, over the course of two years when he was in high school. At that age, I don't think most kids can come to this kind of understanding, and maybe that warps who they are as an adult. I don't know.
Yesterday was a hard day, and today wasn't much better. I'm tired. I'm wrung out. I'm depressed. I'm angry. But I'll get over it. Someday. Just because I feel like an exposed nerve doesn't mean someone else doesn't feel bad, or have the right to feel bad, about something lesser than what I've gone through.
Still, a lot of things have been put into perspective for me. Locking my keys in the car or breaking a glass doesn't seem like such a big deal now. So what that I should be packing right now for my overnight trip tomorrow instead of blogging this. I'll get around to it.
Life goes on, whether we want it to or not. So we might as well live it and make the most of the time we've got.
April 22, 2006
Nerd Cakes
We were sitting on the porch eating sandwiches at the farm, taking a short break from all the moving. Out of no where, these three birds come shrieking in, buzzing us. One of them couldn't turn in time, and he smacked right into the back porch door, bounced off my mom's back, and fell unconscious onto the ground. The poor little guy was unconscious for a good 5 minutes. We gently picked him up and put him some soft overgrowth in the bushes and watched him for a bit. Slowly, he started to come to. Damn that had to hurt. He was dazed for a good 20 minutes. Finally, he made a short flight to the porch, and then he took off. I was just glad he was all right. I don't need any more depressing shit right now.
April 21, 2006
Silent Nil
If you're not smart enough to know that when I start blogging about a movie I just saw there's going to be spoilers, this message is for you:
Are you happy now?
Silent Hill. Hmmm. A fairly good romp of the insane and creepy, right up until the end. Oh wait, that's right. There IS no ending. That's right. No ending. Not a bad ending. Not a sad ending. Just no ending at all. Enough people stood up and boo-ed when the credits started that I couldn't hear the blasting music from the speakers. As I was walking out of the theater with the rest of the crowd, they were yelling to people in line to not waste their money on Silent Hill.
Were the creatures as creepy as the video game? Sure. Were they straight out of my nightmares? Sure. Will I probably lay awake tonight? Nah. The ending was THAT lame. It was so lame, it ruined the rest of the movie for me. It's pretty rare that that happens. I think the last time was when we saw M. Night Shamalamadingdong's Unbreakable in the theater. We were livid when we walked out.
I really feel like driving to Blockbuster and renting Toxic Avenger. Now there's some F-I-N-E cinema for ya. Yee-ha!
April 20, 2006
Good times
I find myself teetering on the verge of shitting down people's throats lately. If I hear one more person cry about having a bad day, I'm going to scream. I have experienced a truly bad day. A day that will be burned in my memory for the rest of my life. I'm sure there's some therapeutic book out there that would tell me that I shouldn't invalidate other people's feelings because of my own experiences, but fuck that. Seriously. Right now, I don't give two flying horse shits about the guy that can't pay his electric bill. Boo-fucking-hoo you cut yourself shaving. Wah. Gas is expensive, and you can't buy that $200 purse you want.
Maybe this is the bitter part of it. Or maybe I just don't care anymore. Who knows. I just feel like, who the hell are YOU to tell me YOU'RE having a bad day. Go through just ONE of the things I've had to deal with in the last month, and I'll agree that you're having a bad day. Deal?
Dad's death has thrown everything into perspective. I just don't feel like anything is a big deal after this. Sure, I've had my blow-ups during the past month, brought on by all the stress and grief. I'll even admit to freaking out a couple weeks ago and throwing a pie pan and breaking down into tears when I dropped a pie in my driveway. It was a hard damn day.
But the little things? They don't bother me so much now. Will we ever be able to afford a house? Does it matter? Will I have enough money to pay all the bills this month? Who cares. I honestly feel like I have no fear of death whatsoever after all of this, after everything I've experienced. It all seems so totally insignificant, like none of it really matters when you get down to it. None of it.
April 19, 2006
Crem de la master
I had this dream the other night that was one of the most bizarre to date.
It's Mike's birthday, and his mom, embodied in the shape of my best friend's mother-in-law, is putting on this huge shindig in her palatial house (which in the dream is supposed to be the neighbors across the street from my grandmother's).
We're all trying to find Mike, but none of us ever seem to. I keep getting pointed from room to room, as that's where Mike is supposed to be. I walk into the living room, and there's a guy sitting there talking to someone. I haven't seen or talked to this guy in at least 7 or 8 years. He was the person I replaced when I was promoted at Suncoast, back in my early, early college days. I have absolutely no idea how I could remember exactly how he looked, much less dream about him.
Then I'm sitting in Mike's car (in front of said grandmother's house) listening to music. Because, you know, I like to sit in Mike's car and listen to music. ????? But these whitebread street thugs somehow get the doors open, even though I've locked them. And they throw me out and steal the car.
So I run back into Mike's "mom's" house for help. When I walk inside, there are these two freaky circus-performer-looking guys hanging out in the living room trying to out-do each other, Count Orpheus totally-over-dramatic style. One of them has a 6-ft long, spindly, bendy neck with a sheep's head. And in the dream, I'm thinking, "Wow, that's a really creepy illusion. But I don't know how he's doing it if I'm standing here." And then I started to feel really creeped out. But the other guy yells, "Oh yeah?! Well watch this!" and his head disappears in a puff of smoke, as he stands with his hands on his hips, and his chest puffed out proudly. And the guy with the sheep head...his neck is just twisting all around, snakelike.
And then I think, "How the hell did Mike's mom get Cremaster to do a birthday party?"
Then I woke up.
Here's a good, creepy example of Cremaster:
Mike has a DVD of it that he plays at the club. The first time he played it, people were so disturbed that they couldn't even dance. Everyone just stood around uneasily staring at the screen. CREEPY.
April 18, 2006
I had my leg veins zapped with a laser this afternoon. It didn't hurt much at all. Now I've got these compression bandages on that I can't remove until I go to bed. I have to take cool showers for the next four days, which is the only really crappy part. I like showers so hot I can barely stand them. I also can't exercise at all for at least 4 days, except for light walking. So I guess it's WoW this week and a little hermit-like relaxation.
I just haven't wanted to be around people. I can handle work fine because I more or less hide in my cube all day anyway. But Easter was mildly uncomfortable. I was holding the fort fine until a couple of my relatives decided to revisit some things that I just don't ever want to think about again. Ever.
But my self-induced chocolate ban ended on Easter morning, so I enjoyed some candy from the baskets Amanda made us. I devoured Kev's Milky Way bunny in a piranha-like frenzy.
The tiredness seems to have subsided somewhat. Probably because I'm finally able to sleep without the use of a sleep-aid. I think a lot of things are sinking in now. I have time to be alone with my thoughts. I was beginning to wonder if I was even human.
April 13, 2006
Draconic Schwing
Several people have commented to me lately that they can't believe the candidness of my blog throughout the last 3 weeks. Well, if it weren't for pouring it out on this website, I'd have probably gone crazy. So hopefully, that makes it a bit more understandable.
I watched Dragon Knight: The Dragon King last night. I actually enjoyed it. Sure, it was cheesy, but I love fantasy, even bad fantasy. I'd really like to read the novel, though. Miniseries can never do a novel justice. Mists of Avalon is quite possibly the single best book I have ever read, and while I enjoyed the miniseries, the novel is far more powerful. Books can give you insight into the characters' thoughts and motives where on-screen adaptations just can' least not without loads of annoying, distracting narrative.
I went to yoga tonight. I can only guess it's just been too long since I last went. I felt very impatient all night, like COME ON, JUST GET ON WITH IT ALREADY. Kind of counterproductive, really. Hopefully, I can get back into the swing of things now. It's warming up, and I'm always more motivated to be active and do things outside once it starts hitting 80. So much for spring...
But at least we've been able to open up the apartment. I hate the staleness that winter brings with everything being all shut up and sealed with plastic. It was so nice that when Brian stood still too long by the front door, Sunny decided he'd make a perfect perch. Sunny loves Brian!
April 11, 2006
Thank you
Writing thank you notes tonight has left me feeling tired, tired, tired. But it's something I believe must be done. The kindness, love, and support we have received from so many people is so greatly appreciated that I don't think there are really proper words to express our gratitude. So a small card with some scrawly writing will have to do. I still marvel at the perfect hybrid that my writing is of both my parents. Dad's scrawly, almost illegible writing and my mom's perfectly formed beautiful cursive. Every once in a while, one of my letters comes out looking like hers. Then I quickly erase it for fear people might think I have good handwriting. ;)
Just know that we appreciate all of you, each and every one of you, that has given us a kind thought, word, flowers, donations, and food dishes to help us through this difficult time. It is greatly appreciated.
Thank you all.
And now, a bunny with a pancake on his head.
April 10, 2006
I thought you said it was a squid
Well, his arm got all bendy. What would you call it?
I saw Slither yesterday, which turned out to be some good, mindless fun. Brian and Ryan went with me. The deal was I went to Slither with Ryan, and he goes to see Snakes on a Plane with me in August. Hah. I think I got the better end of the deal on that one.
Anyway, Slither was pretty funny and had some very quotable lines, of which my favorite was, "If I weren't sitting here shitting my pants, that would be f-ing fascinating."
I also had dinner with my family last night. My brother is back in town till Tuesday to pick up Dad's truck. I'm heading up there later tonight for dinner again. I'm finally back to work full-time on Tuesday. I worked on scanning some old photo albums this afternoon. I need to do my city taxes, but that's just not happening. I'm still pissed my accountant forgot to do them. She did them the last two years; you'd think I wouldn't have to ask her. Oh well. I'll make sure she does them next time.
April 7, 2006
Two years ago, I hugged my cousin Janet and her son Ryan at Kurt's funeral (her husband/his father). I watched my dad cry for the first and only time in my entire life over the loss of his best friend. They met each other in the Army National Guard during Vietnam. It destroyed me. We marveled at how Kurt could have possibly dropped dead at the age of 62. It was tragic. It was hard. It was difficult to accept.
And now, two years later, my own father has died suddenly at the age of 62. For a while, I went through "if only it had been a heart attack or something like that, then I could accept it was dad's time." But you know what? It was apparently his time whether it was a heart attack, having a car fall on him, or getting trampled by a herd of vicious snowshoe hares.
When it's your time, it's your time. Either way, he's dead. He's not here with me, so I might as well just accept that while I may not understand or know if there is some grand plan or scheme of things, it's just life. We're all going to die someday. We are all going to go back to the universal ebb and flow of energy that we have no possibility of ever understanding in this incarnation of life. It is and will always remain a mystery until the day of our deaths.
And I've had this weird sense that he's been with me the whole time. Like he's okay. It's been hard to be sad about it when I feel like that. It's been a very strange experience for me...totally not what I thought I'd be feeling.
What good could my father's death have brought? Well, for one, I had no intention of having children. I've waffled on it recently, thinking "maybe" and then feeling very unsure. But now, I really feel like I want to have kids, maybe even two or three. And who knows? Maybe my children's, children's, children's, children's, children will someday influence someone that will save the world (or ultimately cause its destruction since there is probably quite the potential for evil genius in our combined bloodlines). Who knows. All I can say is that this event has irrevocably altered our lives and all those whose lives my father touched. What does that mean? I don't know. None of us probably ever will. But I guess I can keep trying.
The only burning question I have right now is, "What the hell is with all the damn keys, dad? I mean, seriously. What is with all the keys!!!" :)
April 6, 2006
I cut out early from packing today to go see Swamiji Nithyananda speak at the Hindu temple in Beavercreek. He gave a dissertation on disconnecting from the "I", which was really interesting. Then we broke for some new and exciting vegetarian Indian rice dishes. I was filled with trepidation at first but then figured, hey, it's free. Why not try it? It was all pretty good. The only thing I didn't like had some kind of weird crackly nuts in it that I had never had before. But other than that, even that dish was pretty good.
After the break, we did a 10-minute meditation, and then we all got to meet with him briefly. It was pretty amazing. I'm glad I went. The out-of-place bliss and joy I periodically experienced last week is back, and I feel so much better. Hurrah for meditation. I just wish I could spread it to the rest of my family so they could feel it, too.
April 5, 2006
The hard parts began today. I cleaned out dad's dresser. I was filled with a mixture of grief, disbelief, and utter amusement. Who was this man I called father? I feel like I found out more about him after his life ended than when I talked to him on the phone.
He was an amazing pack rat. Crammed into those dresser drawers alongside socks and underwear were rifle scopes and blank postcards of Oklahoma and a few things Mom made me promise not to mention in this blog. What were his hopes? His fears? What did he want to do with his life when he was a kid? I handled jock straps and long underwear and knee braces. All in one chest of drawers. He had an Old Spice box he probably bought in 1972 (the price marked on it was $2.25, though that's probably what it costs now, too). It was full of weird little metal bits, keys, scraps, and patches and then some. He didn't throw ANYTHING away. Rubber bands, a lone golf ball, name badges, slips of paper with cryptic scribbling on them...all in a shoebox in one drawer.
That man had key rings full of mysterious, unknown keys. Did he collect them? What did he do with them? What were the for? Did he find them? Did he find keys comforting? I'll never know. Some of them are obviously very, very old, but others look newer. Maybe he found them in parking lots or sidewalks? I also found a collection of the most hideous ties God has ever created. I plan to bring them home and take pictures of them. You have to see them to believe they could even exist.
I know he collected belt buckles. Big, country, fat-ass belt buckles. The kind real cowboys eat for breakfast. I think he had something like 20? I don't remember the final count, but we all got one that he wore regularly for a while and then some extras. I only took one other than the one below, a 30th anniversary one that he had multiples of.

One sweet ass belt buckle.
I loaded his work uniforms into the car tonight. I had every intention of washing the one set that was dirty, but when I threw them in the washer, I hesitated. I picked up the shirt. I stopped. I smelled it.
And then the tears came.
I cried as hard as I cried the day I found out he had died. I couldn't wash it. I won't give it back. They'll just have to let me pay for it tomorrow when I turn the others back in. Mom will want it. Someday. I sealed it in a Ziploc bag.
I've barely cried at all for the last week. I guess I just feel numb. I can't describe it in words. Tonight's the first night I've cried, really CRIED, since that Sunday. I have reached a level of tired that I never thought existed. My hair is tired. My watch is tired. The molecules of air leaving my body are tired. Tired.
I want my life to go back to normal. I want to pretend like none of this ever happened. But I can't. Because it did. And now, THIS is my life. And what does that hold for us?
All endings are new beginnings, whether we like it or not.
April 4, 2006
I. Hate. Wind.
The wind is still completely outrageous. I felt like I was going to be blown away every time I set foot outside the house.
I wrangled the horse a bit tonight. That thing is friggin' wild from being cooped up all winter. I put him out for a bit, so he'd be manageable when our friend's wife came out to look at him. I put his halter on and stood in the stall rubbing him down with a curry to let him get used to me. I forgot how therapeutic grooming a horse can be. I miss having horses. But taking care of one every day is far different than tinkering around with one every couple of months. I remember how much hard work they were.
I called the house looking for mom today and got the answering machine. It was dad's voice. I hung up right away, feeling very unsettled. Part of me wants to save that recording forever, and the other part of me never wants hear it again.
I can't sleep at night without the pills. I just keep seeing things and remembering things that I can't shut off. When I had my accident at 19, I was told I'd possibly suffer from PTSD. I never did. But this time, I think I'm having some issues I didn't have that time around. When I'm not distracted, certain image run through my mind over and over, and I can't let them go. I'm contemplating seeing a counselor. I went that route before when I had the accident, and it helped me greatly. It's nice being able to talk to someone without feeling like you're burdening them or asking for their pity or sorrow.
I can't cry around mom. She has enough to deal with that she doesn't need to be comforting me. My doctor offered me an antidepressant when I saw him last week. I said no. Grief is a process. It should be talked through, not just numbed.
April 2, 2006
A New Day
We went and saw my friend Keith May play at Therapy Cafe last night. I got my whole family to come for a much-needed time out from reality. As always, he put on a good show. There are some links to his music down on the right side of my site. Check 'em out.
Tomorrow, mom and I take Kyle and Amanda to the airport. They're coming back up in a couple of week or so to help us out with some of the stuff we have left to do. The probate lawyer is Tuesday afternoon. It'll be interesting to see what lies ahead.
I'm tired. I just want to sleep for about a week. Without sleeping pills.
April 1, 2006
And now for something completely lighthearted
I feel the need to post something lighthearted after this past week. A lot of my family members have read my blog recently, and I'd like to warn them that this happy little unicorn song has some strong language. Don't listen to it if you can't handle gratuitous use of the F--- word.
And here's my favorite pic of Brian loving Sunny. See the look of utter rapture on her face? Yeah, that's my girl.

Brian loves Sunny!