Silly Little Girl

Prettier than anything I could write.

I have heard complaints (from me) that I do not post nearly enough pictures. Well, here I am to remedy that.

This is someone who is cooler than you, me and James Dean. You should accept this now, and move on with your life. Also, give him popsicles.

This is the beauty and lovely that is Thesesa. She is everything that is cool in my familia. However, if I suddenly stop posting, it will be because she murdered me down dead for putting pictures of her lovely on the innernet, cuz she don't need no more stalkers, y0.

This is me. I am foolish looking at the best of times.

What? Your kid doesn't sneak into his best friend's room and put dresses on? Whatever. He's still cooler than you, even if he is a little "gender-confused."

This, folks, right here, is why I'm not currently tied down with four-point restraints in a hospital somewhere in East Bumblefuck, PA. I am a firm believer in the idea that it is his beard that gives him the power to keep me sane.

Jesus God, he is sexy.

Also, it looks like he has an electric booger coming out of his nose. In reality, that is a Christmas light.

Or is it?

More later. Cold medicine and exhaustion is making my brain all foggy and incapable of typing coherent sentences. More so than usual, anyway.

 

Tea and Sympathy

I had to spend last night up at my disgusting, smelly, greasy cousin's house. She made me sit on piles of mold and mildew, and tried to serve me poop for dinner.

Can you tell I gave her the url for this site? Hi, Thesesa.

In reality, I drove the abagazillion miles up to her awesome little apartment for some tea and sympathy. Theresa rocks the party that rocks the party at giving tea and sympathy, and, also, candy and pork. It was all lovely and cozy and fun, except for at one part where I told her that, no, her biceps do NOT rival those of Antonio Banderas', and she consequently punched me in the stomach.

My family is violent, yo.

2007 is on it's way out, and it's wicked easy for me to sit here and wallow in the things about this year that ate my brain, but far me it for me to whine (lie). Instead, I'll make a list of the things that owned my world this year.

1. Feeling important at a job.
2. Getting two raises.
3. Starting school.
4. Moving into my own place, finally, God.
5. Getting help for the crazy.
6. My kid learning dance moves.
7. Discovering RPG video games.
8. The 7th Harry Potter. In actuality, this also ruined my life, because alas, what else do I have to live for?
9. Reconnecting with Lauren, again, cuz she is my homeslizzle, yo.
10. Realizing that, despite that fact that sometimes I want to stab him in the eyes, I love my dude, and he's my penguin/lobster.
11. Threatening to kidnap sheep.
12. Turning 21.
13. Turning 21 in Atlantic City, and setting a life's goal to slap a hooker.
14. Setting a life's goal to move to France.
15. Getting engaged.
16. Learning to drive stick.
17. Discovering this, and this, and this.
18. Getting a digital rebel.
19. Western Civ and Mr. S.
20. Writing wicked good papers.
21. A bunch of other shit that escapes me, at the moment.

All in all, the year's been good, even if it's eating my brain.  Here's to an even better 2008. Drink a shitload of champagne for me, because I'll be here playing video games.

Almost better

Today was Melanie's funeral. Her brother, during his eulogy, lamented the fact that the gathering was so small for someone so young. It's true...for the death of a 35 year old woman, it should have been standing room only. He begged that we all do better. That the best way to honor her memory is to be better to someone else  than we were to her, and to each other.

For one day, all was forgiven. For one day, people who haven't spoken in years hugged and wept together. That won't last.

We gathered at the grave of our father/grandfather, and laid another one of ours to rest. While my mother gossiped incessantly in the car, I bitterly sniped "We've buried so many fucking people. You'd think we'd learn to appreciate each other more."

My family's legacy is one of tragedy. It's also one of anger and spite; regret and deceit. Though I was moderately impressed with the ability of some to throw aside grudges, I can't believe that it will last.

I haven't written in the past few days because I'm having a little trouble right now finding too many funny things. We have another hurdle to jump on Tuesday; one of which I am so fucking scared that I haven't even been able to write about it. Hopefully, it won't end too badly and we'll be able to look forward to Christmas without the weight of this albatross for the first time in 7 months.

Friday I Christmas shop, so barring death or dismemberment, I should be able to scrape a few moderately funny stories. And by "funny," I of course mean "fucking irritating and amusing to no one but myself."

“How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it.”

I am so goddamn frustrated. I am furious with myself...for being furious. For allowing anger and spite to let me believe that estrangement from my family was ok. Justified, righteous, even. I feel like my grief and grudges have finally turned-tail and smacked me right in the face.

I turned my back on my family in the wake of what were then grievous mistakes. I ostracized my aunts and uncles and cousins, even my own mother, from my life. Now someone is dead, others are sick, and the damage might be so deep that it's too late. How easily it all could have been solved if one person, just one was willing to bend at the right second. Was willing to flex to accomodate someone else, just that one time. How much could have been prevented if someone, me, anyone, had just said "I'm sorry"?

I feel horribly alone. My heart aches because I want to be with my family. Until my apologies are heard, though, and maybe not even then, that's not possible. I feel small and sad and scared, all over again. The fact that this heartache is 50% grief and 50% guilt is all the worse, because I can only turn it inward. I am sorry, so, so, so, so fucking sorry.

Broken

So. Weekend. All in all, I gotta say: it sucked.

Friday night I was waiting for Lauren to come over with booze and food, and I was reading various blogs in the living room while Donovan played in his room. Nik was out. Suddenly, the living room lights go out. I get up, a notice that Donovan's TV had shut off, but his lights were on. I realized we must have blown a circuit. It's not that unusual, considering my building is sort of old and we run a lot of high power appliances over here.

As I walked back to Donovan's room, I heard him start to freak out. I found him sitting on his bed, crying hysterically. I assumed he was just scared because of the TV suddenly turning off. Sudden, unexpected things freak him out pretty regularly. I picked him up and he clung to me like a vice. He could barely talk.

I took him into the kitchen and tried to calm him down. He was inconsolable. He started to scare me. I asked him over and over again why he was so terrified, and he just said that it was because his TV turned off. I picked him up and sat him on the counter by the fridge and started getting him some juice. It was then that I noticed that a few fingers on his hand were black. My insides froze. I grabbed his hand and asked him how he did it. He said it was pen, from when he was drawing earlier. I grilled him more until finally, he blurted out "I STUCK A PIN IN THE PLUG." And then he went into hysterics again, this time with me along for the ride. I called Nik, screamed and rambled...I didn't know what to do. He seemed fine; sure, he was scared as shit but he was talking and walking and didn't seem off at all, but I what the fuck do I know about electrocution? Maybe his brain was sizzling in his skull RIGHT THAT SECOND and I didn't know it. Nik calmed me down, Donovan calmed down, and all was well.

Lauren showed up with the booze, and I promptly fell asleep on my couch while she watched Harry Potter.

Saturday morning brought a screaming brawl with Nik because sometimes my boyfriend can be an idiot. We made up pretty quickly, and the rest of Saturday passed without event.

Sunday afternoon, feeling inexplicably down and tired, I went to lay down. A few hours later, Nik woke me up. He said my mother called (I haven't spoken to mother in over two months) and said that my cousin Melanie had slipped into a coma and that maybe I should try to get in touch with Theresa (Melanie's sister, and my favorite cousin.) I got up and called my mom back. I learned about Melanie's condition and made small amends with my mom.

Less than twenty minutes later, my mom called back to tell me that Melanie died.

Melanie was 35 years old. She would have been 36 in January. She lived a sad, pitiful life of illness, both physical and mental. The scope of the tragedy extends beyond her death, into her life, and the fact that she never knew happiness in this world. Melanie was as good as estranged from most of my family, including me. The butt of many jokes and the source of a lot of irritation, it was easy to forget that there was a person, a human being with emotions and needs and pain, under the layers of insanity. What brings the grief into stark relief is that she may have never known that we loved her. How could she? We never told her. Let it be our penance for our lack of compassion toward her that we bear that guilt forever.

Additionally difficult today is the fact that I'm not there with my family, because I'm estranged from them, too. Twelve years ago this past November, my grandfather died of cancer. During his illness, my family essentially lived together under one roof, caring for him and one another; a single unit. How far we've fallen, how much we've broken since then.

Now, on the day of a death of a cousin, niece, daughter and sister, we are divided. We each are kept apart by our grudges and our misdeeds. We've all forgotten that, despite our actions, we're still people. We've all hurt and been hurt. Everyone we've lost in the few years has left behind a world of regret. Things we should have said, actions we should have forgiven.  When are we going to learn?  Maybe we are just irrevocably  broken.