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November 29, 2002
I actually dared to step outside and drive today. What was I thinking? Apparently, I wasn't.
I thought, hey! It's a good day to go to the movies.
Bzzzzt. Wrong answer.
It's a terrible day to go to the movies. Again, what was(n't) I thinking??
It was a horrible experience. Everyone driven insane by consumerism; hungry with the lust for stuff. And, in their spending frenzy, they shut off the portion of their brain that enables them to safely operate a motor vehicle.
I watched as one lady thought that because traffic was slow, she should treat her right hand turn as a merge and got upset when no one would let her over. She wound up driving down the shoulder for some time.
Several people have forgotten to use their blinkers, too, jerking over into the middle turn lane, swerving back into the lane when they realized they were getting over too soon...but OH not too soon because just as soon as they hit the lane, they swerved back into the middle turn lane again. My favorite is when they get over too soon and are stuck facing another car, wanting to turn in the opposite direction,...a forced stalemate, two cars heading the equal but opposite directions...in bumper to bumper traffic! And everyone thinks the same thing "bullshit, I'm not letting you over!"
It was incredible, the amount of crazyness that was taking place on just one small stretch of road ...from 14 mile to 13 mile...insanity.
And I'm sure everyone else is bitching and the "fucking crazy ass drivers". We're all bad drivers. It's the nature of Michigan.
Oh, and on a completely unrelated note, I wish I could speak several languages right now so I could read foreign books in the language they were written. It's so infuriating knowning that it more than often loses something in translation.
I could get by with French, but ...I don't want to have to think so hard. :)
posted at 9:30 PM
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November 28, 2002
Today, being a day of thanks, I'm thinking of all the things that I am, in fact, really grateful for. Though it may not sound like it right now...
I didn't think I would be able to be positive today with the night that I had last night....
...waking up at 2am to the sounds of the upstairs 15 year old looks like she's 20 neighbor girl (who is trouble spelled with a TROUBLE....) She had put on a song on her radio, on repeat, and turned it up. Loud. So loud that I thought it was my alarm clock that had somehow been switched from the horrible no good beeping air raid alarm to the soothing sounds of some all boy band r&b shite. I thought, okay, she just likes this song...maybe she'll turn it off after it ends. Nope. Three more listens to their "oohh ahhh ohhhhhh oooh ahhh la lala girlllllllll " and I went flying upstairs in a rage.
I calmly asked her to turn the music down and she apologized about thirty times.
"no problem, could you just do that for me thanks" and I walked away.
Then, the tired guilty part kicked in. I lied there, thinking, "oh great, now you're the bitchy downstairs neighbor." And I started to actually feel a little bad about going up there. Then I promptly fell asleep. I don't feel bad anymore...
I had these dreams that were strange and confusing and a little sad...but one part involved the upstairs girl's crackhead mom coughing on me.
Which of course, caused me to wake up coughing. At 5am. Unable to stop. Until 6:30.
son of a bitch.
I believe this is all allergy related because we apparently had a leak in our ceiling above the bathtub...from the tub above us. It had been leaking sometime, unbeknownst to us, and had been rotting away the ceiling between the two apartments. Then suddenly, one day, the ceiling collapsed into our bathtub. Can you imagine if someone was in the shower at the time? yuck.
Either way, we have a gaping hole in the ceiling full of mold spores waiting to be completely fixed by the maintenance man. He came in and picked up the pieces, fixed the leak, knocked out the rotting wood and left it open to "dry out".
I have mentioned that I'm *REALLY* allergic to mold, haven't I?
Needless to say, showers have been taken at my parents.
So, thinking of all this last night, on top of not getting more than 2 hours of sleep at a time, have caused me to be spectacularly bitchy. But, I'm not gonna play like that.
I'm going to think of the things I love, the things/people I'm lucky to have/had or met and be glad that I have what I have, even if it involves a lot of bills, a lot of stress and annoyance...because there's always someone who has it a lot worse.
posted at 10:07 AM
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November 25, 2002
I know my graphic is fux0r3d.
I'm working on it. Give me a break.
posted at 1:38 AM
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November 20, 2002
So it's time for my semi-monthly redesign.
This time I think I'm going to change the purpose of this site. I want to have another section to focus on what I want to write. That's not very interesting for you, but it gives me much needed structure and discipline -- two things I'm starting to avoid in my "early retirement".
I will still continue to post meaningless drivel, but none of that matters to you, I'm sure.
I think my 'Sloth' will be the first to nominate the naked pictures section....though don't expect that to happen. Don't worry.
Either way, I want to get more serious about what I'm doing. I'm tired of having all of these awesome ideas and not doing shit about them...or starting them and having thirteen projects overwhelm me.
Yeah, so that's what you have to look forward to.
Why do I write this addressing you?
I don't know.
I guess I do it as a reminder to myself.
Or to let you know what's going on in my life, in case you're interested...who knows.
posted at 1:10 AM
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November 17, 2002
Who just beat Dungeon Siege ??
I did, that's who, bitches!!
I beat the game! I beat the game! I beat the game!
I am the best that has ever lived.
I rule. I rule. I rule.
I'm happy :)
posted at 2:30 AM
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November 14, 2002
It was hurting inside and she didn’t know how to make it stop. She wrote and wrote, thinking that if her pain were spread out across the page it wouldn’t ruin her sleep.
She wrote only in red.
The pen skipped and danced, tracing red lines like veins. Each period was a scratch, each comma a bruise.
I am a poor freezingly cold soul So far from where I intended to go
She sat alone and wrote her pain. She didn’t want everyone to see that she was suffering. Put on a happy face, she told herself. Her smile spread grotesque and huge distorting her features and pulling her skin. Deep down in the bowels of her soul, she knew that it was all a lie. Everyone knew what was wrong. It was that damn boy. You couldn’t say his name without spitting.
Scavenging through life’s very constant lulls.
Steve. Steve. Look at what you’ve done. You have destroyed her innocent life, not once but twice. You took her skin and her bones and you sucked them dry. Now she sits and waits for a time when you will return. You know that you’re never going to come back, don’t you? You know that you’re happy with what you’ve done. You’re a voodoo man but your pitch-black skin and your amazing Technicolor clothes are hidden; invisible. You danced around her, shouting and shrieking, the rhythm of drums (love?) driving you into a frenzy. You ate it up, Steve. And she didn’t even have a chance to get away.
I wish I knew the way to reach the one I love. There is no way.
She felt hollow and didn’t know why. How many times did she sacrifice for him She would torture herself with memories. The times they spent driving, the music they would listen to were all jabs at her flesh. She wanted to tear it away, rip it off, so that maybe the pain would have a visual manifestation. She wanted people to see on the outside how bad it hurt on the inside. His smile made her heart black as his invisible voodoo-priest skin. So many memories. Enough to torture her for the rest of her days
Tonight I’ve consumed much more than I can hold.
There were memories that could save her. She knew it as well as everyone else. Sometimes, when the self-inflicted torture was nearly enough to break her, those little gentle thoughts would break through the waves. “What about the time he ….” It would whisper in her ears. She’d close her eyes and try not to drown in the sorrow. She’d put her pen down, dripping red ink in blobs from her hand, and grab onto these saving graces like bobbing life preservers.
And you can tell I’ve never really loved, by the way I sleep all day.
Steve. Steve. Steve. You left her without even saying goodbye. You took every shred from her. You charmed and you beguiled her. You shook your totems and rattled your bones. You worked your magic and sent your give-man out to take it all. And it worked, by god it worked. She was yours, she was tortured and she was in love. Most of all she loved a man who didn’t exist. She loved your idea; she loved your imaginary skin. You broke her and laughed while you ran, leaving her a steaming pile of shit in the street.
My love is as sharp as a needle in your eye. You must be such a fool to pass me by.
Those memories that peeked through her sorrow, they were making progress. Those sad and painful memories coursed through her veins, lub-dub lub-dub, to the beat of her heart. She’d never be rid of them. But the big white and shining raft memories wouldn’t let her drown. The more she wrote, the less it hurt. The less her blood boiled, the less her insides felt dirty. She was swimming.
Written this spring...about no one in general, really.
posted at 11:07 PM
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November 09, 2002
So far, things with my uncle have been progressing slowly but surely.
The heart machine, which was doing actually 100% of the work, has been removed. He's on a pace maker, but still fully sedated. They plan on him being sedated for a few more days, provided he continues to progress at the rate he is now.
My grandma will be here from Florida on Wednesday to help my mom with some of the responsibilities.
Slow and steady wins the race, right?
At least he made it past the first 24 hours -- which means he's pretty much out of the water, I think. I don't know. I haven't been to see him yet, mostly because he's sedated and won't know I'm there...he'll need me more when he wakes up. I know how that is based on my extensive hospital experience of last year...(search my archives, if you're so inclined).
I've been extremely aggressive in the past couple of days. I'm ready to fight anyone; I'm pissy without being in a bad mood. It's just really frustrating. I'm really short tempered and feel like everyone is being a big old cock-ass. Three minutes in the mall and I'm shooting daggers from my eyes and hitting shoulders like a linebacker. I'm angry. I don't know why. Could it be the weather? 30 degrees one day, 60 the next? I don't know. I'm extremely ill-tempered.
I'm even annoyed with myself.
Today, on my way to pick up sushi, I took a persons parking spot just because I could. Well, I didn't set out to take it, I started to pull into the spot and saw they had come around from the other side at just the same time I had...with their blinker on...waiting for the spot...
She pulled around me and circled the parking lot like 4 times, each time passing my car and giving me deadly eyes. I got out of my car and in my most threatening white girl pose, I threw my arms in the air and yelled "What, ya bitch? What? Come on!"
She drove away.
Am 1
Crazy Parking Lot Circler 0
The people at the mall are my worst enemy. They are the Sean Connery to my Alex Trebeck. Everyone walks too slow, stops in front of me, walks RIGHT ON MY ASS, gives me dirty looks...just all in all a bad experience.
But the oddest of all is that I'm really not in a bad mood. I'm happy. I'm doing well. I'm designing some interesting projects ...I just got a really really really cool handmade paper journal that I'm going to collage...I'm just quick to anger. I think I've been cursed.
Also, two years ago, roughly, he left. And that's all I want to say about that.
I wish I had a copy of that cd I made him.
Do you still read this?
posted at 10:36 PM
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November 07, 2002
so my uncle might die. touch and go.
quadruple bypass.
turns out his mild heart attack was instead, massive.
damage to his heart.
blockages throughout his body.
blood pressure 260/140
he's on a machine that helps do 50% of the heart's work.
i don't feel like talking about anything right now.
posted at 3:29 PM
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November 05, 2002
Sometimes, when you're having a bad day, you just have to take a minute to listen to what the crazy people around you have to say. Sometimes, their insanity might rub off on you and you will wind up making yourself laugh. Always remember the little things in life are what make tolerable. I had a bad day but some funny things happened...
Overheard today while in line at Bed, Bath and Beyond --
Scene: White, Middle-aged woman, presumably a stay-at-home mom, in line behind me. Same sort of woman, in a festive fall embroidered cardigan leaving the line in front of me.
Woman Behind Me: Susan!
Susan: HI! How are you?
Woman: Great! Good! You?
Susan: Good! Great!
Woman: So..
Susan: ...
Woman: So what's new?
Susan: blahblabhalbhalh
Your faithful narrator zones out at this point because it's the same typical bullshit conversation everyone has when they don't know what to talk about. How's work? What's going on? Have you seen so-and-so? Until, I hear this gem:
Woman: ...and I don't even own an electric can opener!!!
Susan: Oh my!! You have to get one!
Woman: Oh yeah?
Susan: Yeah, they're great! You just put the can in and walk away!
WHAT?? Are they really having a conversation about can openers??! They are really lacking in the conversational skills if things turn to can openers. If the conversation would have contined, I'm sure it would have been something like this:
Woman: Well, electric can openers, I don't know...I don't like to have robots in the house!
Susan: Oh, they're not exactly robots...
Woman: But they do the work for you, right?
Susan: yeah, but...once the can has been fully opened, the machine stops on its own.
Woman: Yeah, sounds like a robot to me. How do you know what it's really doing if you put the can in and walk away? I don't know. I don't trust technology. It's too magical.
And besides, who doesn't know how can openers work? You put the can in and walk away?? Where was this lady going? Does she just open cans so she can have it already opened for dinner, later? Does it somehow save her time to do several chores at once...open cans, walk to living room, vaccum, shampoo hair...I'm so confused.
So all day, I've been pondering their reactions to this stupid conversation, because I know -- at least I hope -- they are embarassed about what they actually talked about. That's ten minutes out of their life that they will I never get back, ever.
I kept thinking about it all day, stupid conversations...meanwhile, trying to hold conversations of my own.
Not very well, I might add...
I'm only lucky that I said what was said in the car instead of in public...
Him: I wouldn't want to piss you off....
Me: (whilst preoccupied) Yeah, you mess with me you get the bull.
(doing the great bull-horn-finger move)
Ah-ha. Mess with the bull you get the horns, I mean.
posted at 10:56 PM
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November 03, 2002
Wouldn't life be great if you could really skate as good as the people in the Tony Hawk Pro Skater video game?
posted at 10:59 PM
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November 02, 2002
So , I'd like to thank everyone who commented on my pumpkins...good or bad...you assholes. Thanks for nothing.
Anyway, Halloween ushered in a couple of bad things that really ruined my favorite day. The most "important" is the fact that one of my favorite uncles, Michael, is currently resting at St. Joe's hospital waiting for heart bypass surgery. Yeah, great. He's a giant, intimidating phillipino man with an even bigger heart of solid gold. He has many crazy stories and probably can kill a man with a flick of his pinkie finger, but wouldn't hurt a fly. I love my Uncle Michael. I know that this sort of surgery isn't a death sentance and that it's probably the one thing that's going to actually save his life instead of the alternative, but it still makes me scared as hell.
He drove himself to the hospital on Thursday because he was having some weird pains and wanted it checked out. Turns out those "weird pains" was a mild heartattack! Shit! So, they took him right away to St. Joe's and put him into surgery for the angioplasty (the very same place, doctor and surgery that my dad had in May 2001). It turns out that the stint they put in did nothing to help the blockage, because it was so bad...so therefore they have to crack his chest and bypass the blocked artery to get his heart working at the normal rate, again. His blood pressure was through the roof and that was even on the IV drip they have him on.
Let me reiterate that he's a big man. He's not fat by any means...he's just a big, solid, big man. A bear.
But, as I've been thinking about this, wondering why I'm so bothered by this whole event, why I'm so worried and scared...I've managed to narrow it down to one thing. It reminds me too much of my grandpa. My Grandpa Mike was taken to St. Joe's for a "routine" surgery to clean out the artery in his neck. It happens a lot, I guess, to people of his age. They wanted to clean it out so his heart wouldn't have to work so hard. I went to see him and our conversation went something like this:
"Well, Grandpa, I have to go, but I'll see you when you get out of surgery, tomorrow!"
"Okay, sweetheart"
"It'll be okay, don't worry"
"yeah, I hope I don't die! I love you"
"I love you too"
Yeah, you can see where this is going. My stubborn grandpa, ignoring the doctors who have told him "Do NOT get up from your bed, ask a nurse to help you"...got up from his bed because he didn't want anyone to help him go to the bathroom. He wound up putting too much strain on his heart and had a heartattack -- essentially the heart exploded. Great fun. Yeah. It really bothers me to this day because I was pretty close to my grandpa -- and now seeing Uncle Michael there, just sort of makes it all come back. I hate it.
But, in positive news, I've been motivated and inspired again. It's so awesome when you get that feeling back after a few days/weeks/months of not having anything to be inspired about. I have all sorts of amazing ideas for books I want to do and really cool paper crafts that I can't wait to start. I have to finish my tryptich of three mosiac art deco cats, I'm nearly halfway done. There's just so much I want to do and not nearly enough time to get it done, lately.
It's exciting.
posted at 10:50 AM
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