If I could invoke the voice of my late mad Irish granma "Jayzus Christ Almighty whut is going on in this world" (just imagine that to be the most Irish accent you've ever heard).
I don't understand why people do the things they do, particularly kids. I do a lot of weird things, and I still act like a kid some of the time (well, a lot of the time... but not a bad kid), but teenagers do A LOT of fucking weird things.
I never intentionally didn't tell my mother where I was going or what I was up to. Sometimes it just happens that we forget to fill the rents in, which is totally understandable every once in a while. "Running away" or whatever, SO not cool. Not cool AT ALL.
Long story short, one of my friends decided to not go home last night, and to lie to her mother about where she was (saying she was at my house after she got out of work, and that she slept over another one of our friend's house). So her mother called all of us frantic, looking for her. The short version of the story is that she is home now, she doesn't sound at all happy, but I guess that is to be expected.
I just do not understand what goes through peoples' heads sometimes. I'm very worried about her, but I totally understand if her mother whoops her ass. I would if I were her mother. I feel like saying a thing or two to her as it is, out of concern. I just don't understand.
I saw the movie "Bent" today. It made me weep something fierce. It's about the Nazi persecution of homosexuals during the Holocaust. If you've never been to the Holocaust museum in DC, go, it's... simply amazing. I've been twice. I cry every time I read the part where the all the people of Denmark, even the KING, wore yellow stars so that the Nazis couldn't take everyone. I think that is one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard. And it's so simple! There is no excuse for the catastrophic loss of life as a result of Nazi idealogy. There is no excuse for any loss of life that isn't natural (though I am pro choice). But I'm not going to go off into a tangent.
My mom had polio when she was a child. She has blonde hair and blue eyes, but she walks with a limp. She's walked with a limp since she came down with polio when she was fifteen months old. She would have been killed. Undesireable.
Okay that was a tangent. "Bent" is just an awesome movie, not one of the best that I've seen, but it is very moving. I think it tries too hard to be moving, which was my biggest issue with it. Also, there are some parts that I find to be in poor taste. On the whole, though, it really is an awesome movie. Definetly worth watching.
Sometimes I wish everyone had a crazy Irish granma to talk them off the roof, even if she's only in your head saying "Yar gonna get yar ass whooped when you come down from there!"
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Pushing the Town Away
It's not September 1 yet...
I keep promising myself that I'm not wishing my life away... but I so am... Cause I just want it to be college so badly right now!!
College is the ULTIMATE vacation, none of this relaxing bullshit or people dressed up in mouse costumes or laying around doing nothing. College is just so freakin cool!!
You wake up when you want (or when you have to, if you're one of THOSE types who actually goes to class), you eat what you want, you hang out with whomever you want to, and you do whatever you feel like doing in your free time.
Your mom isn't going to catch you sneaking into the dorm at 2 am. You don't even have to sneak! Nobody cares!
You can sleep outside if you want to (though I wouldn't recommend it, and it definetly depends on where you go to school). Laying out on the hill in front of my school is my absolute favorite thing to do. Just lay on the grass and watch the stars.
You're only in class for a few hours a day, and then when you're not, the time is yours. Study if you want, go to the gym if you want, go to practice if you want, or be like me and go to the mall.
No but in all seriousness, I'm a straight A student, and I take my instrument and my sport pretty seriously. I'm the kid who lives in the computer room until 2 am every morning (see Ma, I was only sneaking into the house after studyinggg). But I'm damn proud of my ability to balance school, music, sports, and a really freakin awesome social life.
I miss my friends, I miss my life. I'm beyond excited about getting back to school. I'm also really excited because the courses I'm taking are more in-depth. I really really REALLY love the things that I'm learning, and I can't wait to learn more. I want to know everything there is to know about everything! Except maybe not, some mystery is always good I s'pose.
I'm pretty upset that Kathy Griffin wasn't on last night, pretty upset indeed. I had a tea party with my friends (like we do almost every Thursday when we watch Kathy) and everything, and then... no Kathy. The Cho Show was on, though, and it paled in comparison to Kathy, but Margaret Cho is a pretty funny chick.
Rob (bgbf) wants to dress in drag on Monday. And go out in public. Like... he wants to wear a dress and heels, and he wants me to wear a "nice boy outfit." I'm pretty much completely in love with this idea, except for the fact that we know most of the people in our town, and they know us, and people love to talk in our town. It should be interesting in any event, we'll see if it actually happens.
My best friend goes back to school (to band camp LOL) on this coming Wednesday and we (my other two best friends and I) are planning on visiting her, cause she has some kind of fancy pants apartment type thing. And we're all starved for college and would kill fight or die for even a little taste right about now.
9 days?!?!?! I think yes!
I keep promising myself that I'm not wishing my life away... but I so am... Cause I just want it to be college so badly right now!!
College is the ULTIMATE vacation, none of this relaxing bullshit or people dressed up in mouse costumes or laying around doing nothing. College is just so freakin cool!!
You wake up when you want (or when you have to, if you're one of THOSE types who actually goes to class), you eat what you want, you hang out with whomever you want to, and you do whatever you feel like doing in your free time.
Your mom isn't going to catch you sneaking into the dorm at 2 am. You don't even have to sneak! Nobody cares!
You can sleep outside if you want to (though I wouldn't recommend it, and it definetly depends on where you go to school). Laying out on the hill in front of my school is my absolute favorite thing to do. Just lay on the grass and watch the stars.
You're only in class for a few hours a day, and then when you're not, the time is yours. Study if you want, go to the gym if you want, go to practice if you want, or be like me and go to the mall.
No but in all seriousness, I'm a straight A student, and I take my instrument and my sport pretty seriously. I'm the kid who lives in the computer room until 2 am every morning (see Ma, I was only sneaking into the house after studyinggg). But I'm damn proud of my ability to balance school, music, sports, and a really freakin awesome social life.
I miss my friends, I miss my life. I'm beyond excited about getting back to school. I'm also really excited because the courses I'm taking are more in-depth. I really really REALLY love the things that I'm learning, and I can't wait to learn more. I want to know everything there is to know about everything! Except maybe not, some mystery is always good I s'pose.
I'm pretty upset that Kathy Griffin wasn't on last night, pretty upset indeed. I had a tea party with my friends (like we do almost every Thursday when we watch Kathy) and everything, and then... no Kathy. The Cho Show was on, though, and it paled in comparison to Kathy, but Margaret Cho is a pretty funny chick.
Rob (bgbf) wants to dress in drag on Monday. And go out in public. Like... he wants to wear a dress and heels, and he wants me to wear a "nice boy outfit." I'm pretty much completely in love with this idea, except for the fact that we know most of the people in our town, and they know us, and people love to talk in our town. It should be interesting in any event, we'll see if it actually happens.
My best friend goes back to school (to band camp LOL) on this coming Wednesday and we (my other two best friends and I) are planning on visiting her, cause she has some kind of fancy pants apartment type thing. And we're all starved for college and would kill fight or die for even a little taste right about now.
9 days?!?!?! I think yes!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Girls like Us are Impossible to Find
Puppy is sleeping in the sun. Sometimes she stretches and adjusts her position, letting out little sighs. I can't really look at her without blinding myself. The sunshine is like a halo around her.
She understands me so well. Sometimes I'll just be sitting in a chair, or laying on the grass outside, and Puppy will come along and paw at my hand, or nuzzle my face. She likes being level with me. When I am standing, she stands up, leaning with her two front feet on me, staring up into my face. When I lay on the grass or the floor she goes into fits of joy, for whatever reason. She always wants to be close to me, and it seems like she can never be close enough.
I understand what she wants. She doesn't have to bark at me, or whimper. She doesn't speak any verbal language. But she doesn't just exist either.
She just came and laid her head in my lap and looked up at me with her big brown eyes.
Why can't people exist like this? Why is it so easy to know how an animal is feeling, and yet so impossible to tell what a person is feeling? Is it really impossible, or do we just set up blinders for other people? Or do we just not care?
Everything is right with the world when she's with me.
I had a coffee date with my best friend today. The one who I got into a fight with almost exactly a week ago that ended with her breaking up our 13 year long friendship.
We decided that we really can't live without each other, and that we have a lot of work to do, but that we need each other. Life is ridiculously lonely without each other, even if we can't see each other every day. Knowing the other person is just a phone call away makes all the difference.
Much like with Puppy, everything is right with the world when Kate is with me.
I hope we outgrow this weird limbo our relationship had found itself in as of late. We're not the best friends we have been since the first grade, but we're not the friends who call each other a couple times a year to check in and say 'hey.' We need to figure out what we both want and need out of this relationship, and then things will be alright. I just want the transition from "best friends forever" to "hey, what have you been up to in the last year?" to be smoother than it has been.
I know we can't be the same girls who shared every secret, who when one got in trouble the other was right there with her, who were basically inseparable from the age of 7 on, but we can still be friends. They don't call us Kratechel for nothing.
This growing up thing is really, really hard.
Nine days until life goes back to normal.
She understands me so well. Sometimes I'll just be sitting in a chair, or laying on the grass outside, and Puppy will come along and paw at my hand, or nuzzle my face. She likes being level with me. When I am standing, she stands up, leaning with her two front feet on me, staring up into my face. When I lay on the grass or the floor she goes into fits of joy, for whatever reason. She always wants to be close to me, and it seems like she can never be close enough.
I understand what she wants. She doesn't have to bark at me, or whimper. She doesn't speak any verbal language. But she doesn't just exist either.
She just came and laid her head in my lap and looked up at me with her big brown eyes.
Why can't people exist like this? Why is it so easy to know how an animal is feeling, and yet so impossible to tell what a person is feeling? Is it really impossible, or do we just set up blinders for other people? Or do we just not care?
Everything is right with the world when she's with me.
I had a coffee date with my best friend today. The one who I got into a fight with almost exactly a week ago that ended with her breaking up our 13 year long friendship.
We decided that we really can't live without each other, and that we have a lot of work to do, but that we need each other. Life is ridiculously lonely without each other, even if we can't see each other every day. Knowing the other person is just a phone call away makes all the difference.
Much like with Puppy, everything is right with the world when Kate is with me.
I hope we outgrow this weird limbo our relationship had found itself in as of late. We're not the best friends we have been since the first grade, but we're not the friends who call each other a couple times a year to check in and say 'hey.' We need to figure out what we both want and need out of this relationship, and then things will be alright. I just want the transition from "best friends forever" to "hey, what have you been up to in the last year?" to be smoother than it has been.
I know we can't be the same girls who shared every secret, who when one got in trouble the other was right there with her, who were basically inseparable from the age of 7 on, but we can still be friends. They don't call us Kratechel for nothing.
This growing up thing is really, really hard.
Nine days until life goes back to normal.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Life in a Northern Town
Mighty Mouse died.
I really don't know what to say, because it's just not fair to the poor little baby mouse.
I picked him up out of the cage and held him close for a while, and told him how sorry I am, and promised God that I really tried. I'm not sure I did the right thing, but I tried. And I loved him, and I didn't want anything bad to happen to him.
I took him outside and paced around for a while, trying to think of what to do with him. I saw a big mouse scurry into the bulkhead that leads into the basement. It was probably the most upsetting part of the whole event. I assume this mouse is a relative of mighty mouse, perhaps his mother searching for him.
I searched high and low for her yesterday. Where was she yesterday? So I left his little body in the bulkhead, where he will be safe from bigger animals and I will be able to find him tomorrow to bury him, but where tonight maybe his mom will find him and know that she doesn't have to search anymore.
I don't know anything about mice but I assume they aren't as sentimental as people are. But if my baby went missing and I couldn't find it, I would at least want to know what happened to it.
I'm super sentimental, I know, and probably a big cry baby because when I was holding mighty I was dripping big tears all over him.
I told him that I'm sure God has a special place in the palm of His hand where he can nuzzle his little head, and I'm sure it's true. There has to be something special for innocent little creatures.
All creatures great and small
All things bright and beautiful
All things wise and wonderful
The Lord God made them all
He gave us eyes to see them
He gave us lips to tell
How great is God Almighty
Who has made all things well
When I get upset I turn to my faith. Sometimes it is trying, as no one can ever understand God's motivation. I DO understand the motives of people (most of the time...), and people are most certainly not God, which is why I disagree with much of organized religion. Too many people doing "God's work" and screwing over everyone in the process.
And I would never, EVER, push my faith on another. But when I needed guidance, God was there for me, and my Pastor was there for me, even when I didn't know him. Everything happens for a reason, I just happen to believe that God is everything.
When I hear people say they don't believe in God, I get kind of confused, I'll admit it. But I have been there, and I respect everyone's decision to believe or not believe. It's a free country, it should be a free world. I believe we should all enjoy this life, because life is meant to be enjoyed. Bad things happen to everyone, good and bad. Good things happen to everyone, good and bad. Life is just life. But I do believe there is more.
When my father died, I said on any number of occasions that I hated God. But hating something proves that you believe in it. I hated everything, I hated life I hated death, I hated myself.
I've grown up a lot in the, geez almost 11, years that my father has been dead. I've lived a lot more and experienced a lot more. I don't hate anything anymore, and I attribute the freedom from hate to my faith. And that's just me.
I wasn't in the room when he died. And I'll never forgive myself for that. Ever. My sister was out to dinner with her husband, on her way back. We're both scarred by it, I know. We both know what it is like to have an absent father, so to speak. She was twenty-five when he died, but my father wasn't allowed to father my sister when she was young (her mother made sure of that, we're half sisters, but that's another story). And my father wasn't allowed to father me, as fate would have it.
He was a wonderful man. He never got to hear me play my violin, or play lacrosse, or graduate high school, or move into college. He wasn't there to knock the cigarette out of my hand outside the shop class garage in high school. He wasn't there to teach me how to change the oil on my car, something I had to teach myself. He wasn't there when I had my first kiss, my first date, my first heart break, the first time I broke someone else's heart. He wasn't there to see my big mistakes, my little mistakes, the happiest moments in my life, the saddest moments in my life, the days when I couldn't get out of bed, the days when I couldn't wait to greet the sun with a smile.
He never got to hold his granddaughter, or his grandson. To see their first steps, to hear their first words. To look into their eyes and see his own. To know that he played a little part in the great mystery of it all. To know that, he touched their lives, even though he never knew them.
And all I can do is carry on his memory, his kindness.
Which loops me back around to where I think I began this rant. My father was very much like me, where he couldn't just leave a helpless animal to suffer. I remember, vividly, the time that he found a baby bird in the pool. He build a makeshift nest and left the baby out in the trees behind our house. When we went to check on the baby the next morning, it was gone. Whenever I see a healthy young robin, I think of the bird that was saved. I'm sure its mother found it, and I'm sure it learned how to fly. Because my daddy saved it.
I hope somewhere, my father is proud of me, the way I am still so very proud of him.
I know you tried daddy. All we can ever do is try.
I really don't know what to say, because it's just not fair to the poor little baby mouse.
I picked him up out of the cage and held him close for a while, and told him how sorry I am, and promised God that I really tried. I'm not sure I did the right thing, but I tried. And I loved him, and I didn't want anything bad to happen to him.
I took him outside and paced around for a while, trying to think of what to do with him. I saw a big mouse scurry into the bulkhead that leads into the basement. It was probably the most upsetting part of the whole event. I assume this mouse is a relative of mighty mouse, perhaps his mother searching for him.
I searched high and low for her yesterday. Where was she yesterday? So I left his little body in the bulkhead, where he will be safe from bigger animals and I will be able to find him tomorrow to bury him, but where tonight maybe his mom will find him and know that she doesn't have to search anymore.
I don't know anything about mice but I assume they aren't as sentimental as people are. But if my baby went missing and I couldn't find it, I would at least want to know what happened to it.
I'm super sentimental, I know, and probably a big cry baby because when I was holding mighty I was dripping big tears all over him.
I told him that I'm sure God has a special place in the palm of His hand where he can nuzzle his little head, and I'm sure it's true. There has to be something special for innocent little creatures.
All creatures great and small
All things bright and beautiful
All things wise and wonderful
The Lord God made them all
He gave us eyes to see them
He gave us lips to tell
How great is God Almighty
Who has made all things well
When I get upset I turn to my faith. Sometimes it is trying, as no one can ever understand God's motivation. I DO understand the motives of people (most of the time...), and people are most certainly not God, which is why I disagree with much of organized religion. Too many people doing "God's work" and screwing over everyone in the process.
And I would never, EVER, push my faith on another. But when I needed guidance, God was there for me, and my Pastor was there for me, even when I didn't know him. Everything happens for a reason, I just happen to believe that God is everything.
When I hear people say they don't believe in God, I get kind of confused, I'll admit it. But I have been there, and I respect everyone's decision to believe or not believe. It's a free country, it should be a free world. I believe we should all enjoy this life, because life is meant to be enjoyed. Bad things happen to everyone, good and bad. Good things happen to everyone, good and bad. Life is just life. But I do believe there is more.
When my father died, I said on any number of occasions that I hated God. But hating something proves that you believe in it. I hated everything, I hated life I hated death, I hated myself.
I've grown up a lot in the, geez almost 11, years that my father has been dead. I've lived a lot more and experienced a lot more. I don't hate anything anymore, and I attribute the freedom from hate to my faith. And that's just me.
I wasn't in the room when he died. And I'll never forgive myself for that. Ever. My sister was out to dinner with her husband, on her way back. We're both scarred by it, I know. We both know what it is like to have an absent father, so to speak. She was twenty-five when he died, but my father wasn't allowed to father my sister when she was young (her mother made sure of that, we're half sisters, but that's another story). And my father wasn't allowed to father me, as fate would have it.
He was a wonderful man. He never got to hear me play my violin, or play lacrosse, or graduate high school, or move into college. He wasn't there to knock the cigarette out of my hand outside the shop class garage in high school. He wasn't there to teach me how to change the oil on my car, something I had to teach myself. He wasn't there when I had my first kiss, my first date, my first heart break, the first time I broke someone else's heart. He wasn't there to see my big mistakes, my little mistakes, the happiest moments in my life, the saddest moments in my life, the days when I couldn't get out of bed, the days when I couldn't wait to greet the sun with a smile.
He never got to hold his granddaughter, or his grandson. To see their first steps, to hear their first words. To look into their eyes and see his own. To know that he played a little part in the great mystery of it all. To know that, he touched their lives, even though he never knew them.
And all I can do is carry on his memory, his kindness.
Which loops me back around to where I think I began this rant. My father was very much like me, where he couldn't just leave a helpless animal to suffer. I remember, vividly, the time that he found a baby bird in the pool. He build a makeshift nest and left the baby out in the trees behind our house. When we went to check on the baby the next morning, it was gone. Whenever I see a healthy young robin, I think of the bird that was saved. I'm sure its mother found it, and I'm sure it learned how to fly. Because my daddy saved it.
I hope somewhere, my father is proud of me, the way I am still so very proud of him.
I know you tried daddy. All we can ever do is try.
Why?
My roommate and I were talking the other night. She's going through a lot right now. Her best friend is moving out to LA, thousands of miles away, maybe forever. Needless to say my roommate is broken hearted.
She also told me something that I was completely unprepared to hear, something that I don't think anyone is ever prepared to hear.
Her other best friend out in Arizona recently told her that he is HIV positive.
He's HIV positive.
I think I said oh my god about a million times.
He's my age, and he's HIV positive. He'll never live the carefree life of a young adult again. He can't just be a normal kid anymore.
So I have to ask why.
Why do things like this have to happen? Why is HIV so prevalent?
It's so preventable. There is no reason why people should get HIV, why young lives should be cut short.
And if the person who gave it to him knew he was HIV positive? Well that person is a murderer. If you're sick, let the people you are with know about it. Don't have anonymous sex.
I just don't get it.
I know bad things happen and there is nothing we can do about it, and there are some things we just have to accept.
Forgive me, but I just cannot accept the fact that people are dying of a completely prevantable disease. People are dying, families are being destroyed, futures are never being realized.
And that's just OK with the U.S. government? There has to be more we can be doing to find a cure, to find a vaccine, to do SOMETHING.
I'm really scared. I've never known someone who was HIV positive (that I'm aware of) and even though I don't know my roommate's best friend, I feel like I know him. He's our age, he's shared memories with one of my best friends.
It scares me because it's not okay. It's not okay at all, and it never will be until someone does something about it. This isn't one of those problems that can just be passed along from generation to generation, and hopefully one day one generation will say enough is enough. This is a big problem that needs to be fixed right now. It needed to be fixed years ago.
I guess I'm just at a loss for words. It doesn't make any sense to me, at all. And it never will.
On a lighter note, Mighty Mouse is doing fine this morning. The cats even knocked his cage over some time last night, and the little one is still doing fine. He really is just a little baby, he can hardly walk, but he loves burying his little head in the palm of my hand and curling up into a ball. He hates the milk I try to give him (it is fat free, I don't really blame him, but it's all we have) but he seems to like bird seed just fine. I had mice a long time ago, I've even had baby mice, but the baby mice had a mother to take care of them, and they were store bought mice, not wild mice. He's not out of the woods yet, but I think he's getting there.
I guess some things will never make sense.
She also told me something that I was completely unprepared to hear, something that I don't think anyone is ever prepared to hear.
Her other best friend out in Arizona recently told her that he is HIV positive.
He's HIV positive.
I think I said oh my god about a million times.
He's my age, and he's HIV positive. He'll never live the carefree life of a young adult again. He can't just be a normal kid anymore.
So I have to ask why.
Why do things like this have to happen? Why is HIV so prevalent?
It's so preventable. There is no reason why people should get HIV, why young lives should be cut short.
And if the person who gave it to him knew he was HIV positive? Well that person is a murderer. If you're sick, let the people you are with know about it. Don't have anonymous sex.
I just don't get it.
I know bad things happen and there is nothing we can do about it, and there are some things we just have to accept.
Forgive me, but I just cannot accept the fact that people are dying of a completely prevantable disease. People are dying, families are being destroyed, futures are never being realized.
And that's just OK with the U.S. government? There has to be more we can be doing to find a cure, to find a vaccine, to do SOMETHING.
I'm really scared. I've never known someone who was HIV positive (that I'm aware of) and even though I don't know my roommate's best friend, I feel like I know him. He's our age, he's shared memories with one of my best friends.
It scares me because it's not okay. It's not okay at all, and it never will be until someone does something about it. This isn't one of those problems that can just be passed along from generation to generation, and hopefully one day one generation will say enough is enough. This is a big problem that needs to be fixed right now. It needed to be fixed years ago.
I guess I'm just at a loss for words. It doesn't make any sense to me, at all. And it never will.
On a lighter note, Mighty Mouse is doing fine this morning. The cats even knocked his cage over some time last night, and the little one is still doing fine. He really is just a little baby, he can hardly walk, but he loves burying his little head in the palm of my hand and curling up into a ball. He hates the milk I try to give him (it is fat free, I don't really blame him, but it's all we have) but he seems to like bird seed just fine. I had mice a long time ago, I've even had baby mice, but the baby mice had a mother to take care of them, and they were store bought mice, not wild mice. He's not out of the woods yet, but I think he's getting there.
I guess some things will never make sense.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Mighty Mouse
I'm really tired, but I can't stop thinking about the poor wee baby mouse. My friend decided that his name should be Mighty Mouse, and I think it's fitting.
I'm very worried about him. But once he dies, there will be no more worry, right? He'll go to heaven, where all the baby mice, and the doggies, and the dads and the cousins and the strangers go. And he'll have his own place in the palm of God's hand, where he can bury his little whiskered head and soak up all the body heat he ever dreamed of. All the fleas will melt away. He'll never go hungry or thirsty again.
And some day, hopefully, I'll get there and meet him, and tell him how sorry I am that I couldn't save him. All I want to do is save the poor baby and I'm so powerless. I hate being powerless more than anything else in this world.
And Mighty Mouse can share a seat on my daddy's lap with Kashi, and Ducky, and Candy, and Johnny Pig, and Rex, and all the animals that went before him and all the animals that are bound to follow him.
I hope God knows how much I want to save this little baby, and how confused I am as to why I had to find him, and why he couldn't just live to be an old mouse with lots of little mice babies of his own.
It's just not fair. Babies, human or otherwise, shouldn't die. I don't understand why God would create life only to take it back.
And I don't want the God works in mysterious ways bullshit. I just want to understand.
On an equally heart wrenching note for me, I talked to my best friend tonight.
I think I mentioned that we "broke up" and she made me cry. A lot. And my madre is looking for blood. According to her I am selfish, and dominating, and only care about myself, and haven't been a good friend to her in the past five years. These are things she said in anger. And at the time that she was saying them, I said "we're just angry right and saying things we don't mean." But she assured me that she meant the things she said. And that she no longer wanted to be friends. After hanging up with me and leaving me heartbroken, beyond repair I believe, she called our two other best friends to tell them the situation and to basically get their approval.
She called me tonight to apologize and to see if we could work on things. I wasn't really angry until tonight. I was beyond angry. Beyond completely pissed off. Past the point of no return.
I called her back and ripped her a new one.
How dare she end our friendship of thirteen years, and then so casually call back and ask for things to be better. How dare she. How dare she rip my heart out of my chest, put it up to my nose, and tear it into little shreds right in front of my eyes. How dare she drag our other friends into the equation when it was completely unnecessary.
And I said these things to her. And I hurt her the way she hurt me. I told her I'm leaving town after this summer, and never looking back. I'll come back for holidays and visits, but I'm no longer living in CT two weeks from now. I heard the fear in her voice.
I told her the friends I've made in the past year have been better friends to me than she has been in the past five years. I heart her heart break.
I told her that she isn't my best friend anymore, and she probably never will be again. I heard her heart rip apart. The little part of me that died the other night died inside of her tonight.
I feel bad because the whole "you hurt me so now I'll hurt you" thing is so not me, and so unbecoming, and it doesn't feel good. But I hope she knows now. I hope she knows how much she hurt me. She hurt me worse than any ex girlfriend, than any fight with my mother, than anything I've been through in the recent past. It was like someone killed the one constant in my life.
No one can revive the best friend that I lost. That person is dead. Maybe we can start again, but it won't be the same.
I just want everything to go back to normal so badly. So badly. But it never will.
Growing up is too hard.
I'm very worried about him. But once he dies, there will be no more worry, right? He'll go to heaven, where all the baby mice, and the doggies, and the dads and the cousins and the strangers go. And he'll have his own place in the palm of God's hand, where he can bury his little whiskered head and soak up all the body heat he ever dreamed of. All the fleas will melt away. He'll never go hungry or thirsty again.
And some day, hopefully, I'll get there and meet him, and tell him how sorry I am that I couldn't save him. All I want to do is save the poor baby and I'm so powerless. I hate being powerless more than anything else in this world.
And Mighty Mouse can share a seat on my daddy's lap with Kashi, and Ducky, and Candy, and Johnny Pig, and Rex, and all the animals that went before him and all the animals that are bound to follow him.
I hope God knows how much I want to save this little baby, and how confused I am as to why I had to find him, and why he couldn't just live to be an old mouse with lots of little mice babies of his own.
It's just not fair. Babies, human or otherwise, shouldn't die. I don't understand why God would create life only to take it back.
And I don't want the God works in mysterious ways bullshit. I just want to understand.
On an equally heart wrenching note for me, I talked to my best friend tonight.
I think I mentioned that we "broke up" and she made me cry. A lot. And my madre is looking for blood. According to her I am selfish, and dominating, and only care about myself, and haven't been a good friend to her in the past five years. These are things she said in anger. And at the time that she was saying them, I said "we're just angry right and saying things we don't mean." But she assured me that she meant the things she said. And that she no longer wanted to be friends. After hanging up with me and leaving me heartbroken, beyond repair I believe, she called our two other best friends to tell them the situation and to basically get their approval.
She called me tonight to apologize and to see if we could work on things. I wasn't really angry until tonight. I was beyond angry. Beyond completely pissed off. Past the point of no return.
I called her back and ripped her a new one.
How dare she end our friendship of thirteen years, and then so casually call back and ask for things to be better. How dare she. How dare she rip my heart out of my chest, put it up to my nose, and tear it into little shreds right in front of my eyes. How dare she drag our other friends into the equation when it was completely unnecessary.
And I said these things to her. And I hurt her the way she hurt me. I told her I'm leaving town after this summer, and never looking back. I'll come back for holidays and visits, but I'm no longer living in CT two weeks from now. I heard the fear in her voice.
I told her the friends I've made in the past year have been better friends to me than she has been in the past five years. I heart her heart break.
I told her that she isn't my best friend anymore, and she probably never will be again. I heard her heart rip apart. The little part of me that died the other night died inside of her tonight.
I feel bad because the whole "you hurt me so now I'll hurt you" thing is so not me, and so unbecoming, and it doesn't feel good. But I hope she knows now. I hope she knows how much she hurt me. She hurt me worse than any ex girlfriend, than any fight with my mother, than anything I've been through in the recent past. It was like someone killed the one constant in my life.
No one can revive the best friend that I lost. That person is dead. Maybe we can start again, but it won't be the same.
I just want everything to go back to normal so badly. So badly. But it never will.
Growing up is too hard.
The Baby Mouse Blues
I've blogged about how I feel about animals before. Nothing has changed since then.
I'll start from the beginning.
My beloved rose bush that I planted last summer died a few weeks ago. I tried to revive it all summer, but nothing worked. It was a beautiful plant.
I bought a new rose bush to put in its place. I currently have three, one that is doing wonderfully, another that is getting by but has only had one flower so far, and my newest.
Something is apparently wrong with the soil where I am planting it because this plant is fading, just like the last one did. So I carefully dug it up and replanted it in a different location last night. Today I went out to put some soil around the base of the plant and put some rose food down for all the roses, and I did, and then decided to plant some beautiful little annuals that I got a little over a week ago that I haven't gotten around to planting. I dug the holes for them and went to get them in the pool yard when I saw it.
There was a baby mouse swimming in the pool. At first I thought it was a vole, a blind little critter that I've spotted around the outside of the house a few times. I waded into the pool, shorts and all, and plucked the wee baby out of the water.
I held it for a long time, despite the fact that it was covered in fleas. I determined it wasn't a vole, but was in fact a mouse, and a very very young mouse at that.
I called the madre, no answer.
My hands were covered in dirt and little fleas, and of course a soaking wet baby mouse.
I can't just leave these little creatures who need help.
Luke 9:48 "And said to them, Whoever shall receive this child in my name receives me: and whoever shall receive me receives him that sent me: for he that is least among you all, the same shall be great."
I believe that everything matters, every life is there for a reason, even a seemingly insignificant little baby mouse.
I put him in a cage in the house, lined with newspaper. I cut up a rag into three pieces, one small piece I soaked with water, another small piece I soaked with milk, and another big piece I folded into squares and heated up for 10 second in the microwave to simulate his mother. At least I'm hoping it simulates his mother a little bit. I just want him to be comfortable. I want him to live, and turn into a strong mouse and have lots of little mouse babies and grow old. But if that can't happen, I just want him to be comfortable.
It really is breaking my heart. I don't know why these things have to happen to innocent little creatures.
I can't stop thinking about the Secret of Nimh and the little baby mice and how the mother only wants to save her sick baby. This little baby's mother is out there somewhere, missing him, worrying about him. And he's here, worrying about her, worrying about his future.
I hope he'll be alright. I really don't know what else to do for him. If he is still alive in the morning, and I really pray he is, I think I'll just put him outside and hope for the best. I searched for his mother or his nest or any sign of mice, and found nothing. Where is his mother?? How could she just leave him like this!
I can't help but feel really upset with his mom. Maybe she is hurt somewhere, maybe she is dead somewhere. Maybe she just let her little baby wander off. Whatever happened, it's not okay, and it shouldn't be this way. I don't want anything to do with wildlife. They are wild for a reason. But I can't just let them suffer and die without trying my hardest to help them.
I'll start from the beginning.
My beloved rose bush that I planted last summer died a few weeks ago. I tried to revive it all summer, but nothing worked. It was a beautiful plant.
I bought a new rose bush to put in its place. I currently have three, one that is doing wonderfully, another that is getting by but has only had one flower so far, and my newest.
Something is apparently wrong with the soil where I am planting it because this plant is fading, just like the last one did. So I carefully dug it up and replanted it in a different location last night. Today I went out to put some soil around the base of the plant and put some rose food down for all the roses, and I did, and then decided to plant some beautiful little annuals that I got a little over a week ago that I haven't gotten around to planting. I dug the holes for them and went to get them in the pool yard when I saw it.
There was a baby mouse swimming in the pool. At first I thought it was a vole, a blind little critter that I've spotted around the outside of the house a few times. I waded into the pool, shorts and all, and plucked the wee baby out of the water.
I held it for a long time, despite the fact that it was covered in fleas. I determined it wasn't a vole, but was in fact a mouse, and a very very young mouse at that.
I called the madre, no answer.
My hands were covered in dirt and little fleas, and of course a soaking wet baby mouse.
I can't just leave these little creatures who need help.
Luke 9:48 "And said to them, Whoever shall receive this child in my name receives me: and whoever shall receive me receives him that sent me: for he that is least among you all, the same shall be great."
I believe that everything matters, every life is there for a reason, even a seemingly insignificant little baby mouse.
I put him in a cage in the house, lined with newspaper. I cut up a rag into three pieces, one small piece I soaked with water, another small piece I soaked with milk, and another big piece I folded into squares and heated up for 10 second in the microwave to simulate his mother. At least I'm hoping it simulates his mother a little bit. I just want him to be comfortable. I want him to live, and turn into a strong mouse and have lots of little mouse babies and grow old. But if that can't happen, I just want him to be comfortable.
It really is breaking my heart. I don't know why these things have to happen to innocent little creatures.
I can't stop thinking about the Secret of Nimh and the little baby mice and how the mother only wants to save her sick baby. This little baby's mother is out there somewhere, missing him, worrying about him. And he's here, worrying about her, worrying about his future.
I hope he'll be alright. I really don't know what else to do for him. If he is still alive in the morning, and I really pray he is, I think I'll just put him outside and hope for the best. I searched for his mother or his nest or any sign of mice, and found nothing. Where is his mother?? How could she just leave him like this!
I can't help but feel really upset with his mom. Maybe she is hurt somewhere, maybe she is dead somewhere. Maybe she just let her little baby wander off. Whatever happened, it's not okay, and it shouldn't be this way. I don't want anything to do with wildlife. They are wild for a reason. But I can't just let them suffer and die without trying my hardest to help them.
Funnay Funnay
I didn't really go in depth about the Celine Dion concert, and I really should.
First of all, there were SO many people there. Lots of middle aged men with their mothers and twenty-something year old couples on dates, etc. More little girls wearing homemade "I love Celine" t-shirts than I was anticipating.
And then, there were the gays. Some people might be offended by the term "the gays" because it sets us apart from the rest of society. Well, I'm just using the gays as a term to differentiate between the homosexuals present in the audience and the heterosexuals. Sorry if anyone is offended.
There were SO many lesbians. I was expecting gay men, because it's Celine, I mean come on. Celine, Cher, Barbra, Diana. The gays flock to them like Kathy Griffin on steroids. I was not expecting so many lesbians.
I was also not expecting them to check me out. In front of my mother. VERY obviously.
I'm out to everyone except my mother/her family. I'm fairly certain my sister knows, and anyone who I encounter who assumes my heterosexuality is quickly corrected.
We were standing in line to go in to the theatre and get patted down or whatever, so I was concealing my guns and my shanks (just kidding of course) when the madre turns to me, very slowly.
"Rachel, can you take your bracelet off?"
I wear an HRC rubber bracelet that has the HRC logo, a heart, and a peace sign on it. I guess I kind of wear it so that if anyone has any doubt when they see me, they will know. But it's very small, and not all that noticeable.
"Why?" I turned to her.
"Because there are lesbians checking you out."
My face turned bright red and I turned around and looked forward, so that the crazed lesbians wouldn't know that I knew they were checking me out. I saw them doing it too, and they were SOO not my type at all. I'm just a wee little lesbian, and I guess I look like a lesbian, but I don't announce it to the world. I was so horrified that they were checking me out IN FRONT OF MY MOTHER.
"Ma, maybe they're not checking me out, maybe they're just looking."
"Rachel, I know the difference between looking at someone and checking them out."
Well, I refused to take the bracelet off, and my mother worried that I was going to be molested by lesbians for the rest of the evening. She said "You have to be careful wearing things like that, you don't want people to get the wrong idea."
They have the right idea, Ma, they are dead on.
Lesson: If you're going to check a girl out, make sure she isn't with her parents. PLEASE. It's embaressing to her AND to you. If my madre was a little more bold, she would have gone up to you and given you a piece of her mind. I do believe she would have done to same to a dirty old man looking at me too.
I laugh every time I think about that.
First of all, there were SO many people there. Lots of middle aged men with their mothers and twenty-something year old couples on dates, etc. More little girls wearing homemade "I love Celine" t-shirts than I was anticipating.
And then, there were the gays. Some people might be offended by the term "the gays" because it sets us apart from the rest of society. Well, I'm just using the gays as a term to differentiate between the homosexuals present in the audience and the heterosexuals. Sorry if anyone is offended.
There were SO many lesbians. I was expecting gay men, because it's Celine, I mean come on. Celine, Cher, Barbra, Diana. The gays flock to them like Kathy Griffin on steroids. I was not expecting so many lesbians.
I was also not expecting them to check me out. In front of my mother. VERY obviously.
I'm out to everyone except my mother/her family. I'm fairly certain my sister knows, and anyone who I encounter who assumes my heterosexuality is quickly corrected.
We were standing in line to go in to the theatre and get patted down or whatever, so I was concealing my guns and my shanks (just kidding of course) when the madre turns to me, very slowly.
"Rachel, can you take your bracelet off?"
I wear an HRC rubber bracelet that has the HRC logo, a heart, and a peace sign on it. I guess I kind of wear it so that if anyone has any doubt when they see me, they will know. But it's very small, and not all that noticeable.
"Why?" I turned to her.
"Because there are lesbians checking you out."
My face turned bright red and I turned around and looked forward, so that the crazed lesbians wouldn't know that I knew they were checking me out. I saw them doing it too, and they were SOO not my type at all. I'm just a wee little lesbian, and I guess I look like a lesbian, but I don't announce it to the world. I was so horrified that they were checking me out IN FRONT OF MY MOTHER.
"Ma, maybe they're not checking me out, maybe they're just looking."
"Rachel, I know the difference between looking at someone and checking them out."
Well, I refused to take the bracelet off, and my mother worried that I was going to be molested by lesbians for the rest of the evening. She said "You have to be careful wearing things like that, you don't want people to get the wrong idea."
They have the right idea, Ma, they are dead on.
Lesson: If you're going to check a girl out, make sure she isn't with her parents. PLEASE. It's embaressing to her AND to you. If my madre was a little more bold, she would have gone up to you and given you a piece of her mind. I do believe she would have done to same to a dirty old man looking at me too.
I laugh every time I think about that.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Identity
A lot has happened since my last post, so I'll try to summarize.
I went to New York City with five of my best friends for my best gay boyfriend's 20th birthday. It was a great day in the city, we went to Central Park and Times Square and had a really expensive meal and went to the Museum of Natural History. The bgbf and I saw Avenue Q and it was AMAZING. All in all it was a great, but very long, day, and all of us were ready to go home and not see each other for a long time afterwards.
Unfortunately my best friend and I (not the bgbf) are not longer speaking to each other. We've been best friends for at least 13 years and we got into an argument and she decided we can't be friends anymore. After crying about it for no less than a day, I have decided that I'm better off without her. She is the love of my life (in a not romantic way at all) and she is my soulmate. Being without her for long periods of time is like going without oxygen, like living in a house of carbon dioxide. Eventually I will suffocate. Until she comes around and sees that we need each other, I'm pretty broken hearted. But, like my mom told me when I sobbingly asked "Isn't loving someone enough?" sometimes loving something, in fact often times, isn't enough. And that's all I have to say about that.
The madre and I saw Celine Dion in Boston at the TD Bank North Garden. The concert was AWESOME!! Nothing like True Colors, if you ask me, but it certainly was awesome. Celine Dion really really REALLY knows how to put on a show. I'd be hard pressed to find a better entertainer out there. It was good to get away for a while too and spend some quality time with the madre.
I've been trying to explain to the bgbf and my roommate how I am feeling right now. Everyone knows that I have a broken heart as a result of the break up with my best friend, and everyone is being very nice about it.
But lately I've been feeling really really weird. Not about anything external but about sometimes inside me that I can't really explain. It's really hard to articulate but I'm going to try here.
I've always considered myself feminine, and I have lots of feminine qualities. For example, I use girl shampoo, I wear girl clothes (most of the time), I feel more comfortable with long hair (though I've always wanted to try short hair), I have a girl's voice, I have a girl's shape, etc. etc.
But I don't feel like that's me anymore. I don't want a girl's shape, and I never did. I HATED when in fifth grade things started to change. Girls and boys weren't basically the same anymore. I couldn't hang out wit my guy friends the way I used to. They didn't want to wrestle with me anymore because they were worried they would hurt me, or they thought I had cooties (even though I never had cooties cause I was always just one of the guys). They didn't want to sit around and talk about girls with me anymore because I had BECOME a girl. For the longest time I was just one of the guys, we talked about how silly girls were and how tough we were. We got into fist fights just for fun, to prove how strong we were to one and other.
I was a girl scout, and I loved going on retreats into cabins in the deep woods, sleeping on a mattress on the floor surrounded by a room full of girls. I played softball and soccer. I was first base in softball, and I was goalie in soccer (most of the time, my position varied as the years went on). I enjoyed the time I spent with girls, and eventually I managed to weed out having to be around guys (except for "boyfriends" and their friends, and the guys I was in orchestra with who were like brothers).
I took on a persona in high school that I absolutely hated. Up until then I was the biggest tomboy ever. I had the anything you can do I can do better attitude and I owned it. My cousin cried once because she wanted to get me a makeup kit for Christmas and I wanted a t-ball set. During middle school, she got me the makeup kit, and I still have it, with the same makeup from middleschool in it.
I don't want to wear girly clothes, I don't want to dress up. I don't want to wear skirts and dresses and frills and tweed. I want to be flat chested like I was before the fifth grade, with no curves, and nothing to make someone believe I'm just some chick. I'm not just some chick.
I want to cut my hair short and I was strong arms. I want more tattoos. I want to be the embodiment of androgeny.
I bought a new sports bra today and I was wearing it under my grateful dead t-shirt. I walked past my mother in the kitchen and she said "I like that one, it doesn't flatten you."
First, I was mortified because my mother was checking me out. Ick. Then, I was upset because I only get sports bras that I believe will flatten me. This one, clearly, is not going to serve the purpose I intended for it. Then I was kind of happy because that means the other ones that I wear do serve their purposes.
In any event, I feel like this might be a big year for change. Last year was a big year for change, but this year might be the finishing touches. Maybe it's all a big process that we're never done with. Gender expression is never ending I suppose.
I guess the long and short of what I am trying to say is that I always considered myself feminine (femme if you're into that kind of terminology) but I don't think that's me anymore. I don't think that ever really was me. I am the same tomboy I was before the fifth grade. Maybe they don't call us tomboys anymore. Maybe tomboys who also happen to be lesbians are called queer? I'm not sure. I always called things that were weird "queer," and only recently heard it used to describe anything that wasn't heterosexual and "normal."
So maybe I'm becoming the big scary queer lesbian I never thought I would be. It's hard to go through things like this and not have anyone to bounce ideas off of. I wish someone would just say to me: It's okay to want to cut your hair short, hair will grow back. It's okay to wear tight sports bras. It's okay to wear boy shorts and boy swim trunks and t-shirts. It's okay to not allow anyone to hold the door for you or to treat you like some kind of girl. I'm not some kind of girl. I'm just me.
I went to New York City with five of my best friends for my best gay boyfriend's 20th birthday. It was a great day in the city, we went to Central Park and Times Square and had a really expensive meal and went to the Museum of Natural History. The bgbf and I saw Avenue Q and it was AMAZING. All in all it was a great, but very long, day, and all of us were ready to go home and not see each other for a long time afterwards.
Unfortunately my best friend and I (not the bgbf) are not longer speaking to each other. We've been best friends for at least 13 years and we got into an argument and she decided we can't be friends anymore. After crying about it for no less than a day, I have decided that I'm better off without her. She is the love of my life (in a not romantic way at all) and she is my soulmate. Being without her for long periods of time is like going without oxygen, like living in a house of carbon dioxide. Eventually I will suffocate. Until she comes around and sees that we need each other, I'm pretty broken hearted. But, like my mom told me when I sobbingly asked "Isn't loving someone enough?" sometimes loving something, in fact often times, isn't enough. And that's all I have to say about that.
The madre and I saw Celine Dion in Boston at the TD Bank North Garden. The concert was AWESOME!! Nothing like True Colors, if you ask me, but it certainly was awesome. Celine Dion really really REALLY knows how to put on a show. I'd be hard pressed to find a better entertainer out there. It was good to get away for a while too and spend some quality time with the madre.
I've been trying to explain to the bgbf and my roommate how I am feeling right now. Everyone knows that I have a broken heart as a result of the break up with my best friend, and everyone is being very nice about it.
But lately I've been feeling really really weird. Not about anything external but about sometimes inside me that I can't really explain. It's really hard to articulate but I'm going to try here.
I've always considered myself feminine, and I have lots of feminine qualities. For example, I use girl shampoo, I wear girl clothes (most of the time), I feel more comfortable with long hair (though I've always wanted to try short hair), I have a girl's voice, I have a girl's shape, etc. etc.
But I don't feel like that's me anymore. I don't want a girl's shape, and I never did. I HATED when in fifth grade things started to change. Girls and boys weren't basically the same anymore. I couldn't hang out wit my guy friends the way I used to. They didn't want to wrestle with me anymore because they were worried they would hurt me, or they thought I had cooties (even though I never had cooties cause I was always just one of the guys). They didn't want to sit around and talk about girls with me anymore because I had BECOME a girl. For the longest time I was just one of the guys, we talked about how silly girls were and how tough we were. We got into fist fights just for fun, to prove how strong we were to one and other.
I was a girl scout, and I loved going on retreats into cabins in the deep woods, sleeping on a mattress on the floor surrounded by a room full of girls. I played softball and soccer. I was first base in softball, and I was goalie in soccer (most of the time, my position varied as the years went on). I enjoyed the time I spent with girls, and eventually I managed to weed out having to be around guys (except for "boyfriends" and their friends, and the guys I was in orchestra with who were like brothers).
I took on a persona in high school that I absolutely hated. Up until then I was the biggest tomboy ever. I had the anything you can do I can do better attitude and I owned it. My cousin cried once because she wanted to get me a makeup kit for Christmas and I wanted a t-ball set. During middle school, she got me the makeup kit, and I still have it, with the same makeup from middleschool in it.
I don't want to wear girly clothes, I don't want to dress up. I don't want to wear skirts and dresses and frills and tweed. I want to be flat chested like I was before the fifth grade, with no curves, and nothing to make someone believe I'm just some chick. I'm not just some chick.
I want to cut my hair short and I was strong arms. I want more tattoos. I want to be the embodiment of androgeny.
I bought a new sports bra today and I was wearing it under my grateful dead t-shirt. I walked past my mother in the kitchen and she said "I like that one, it doesn't flatten you."
First, I was mortified because my mother was checking me out. Ick. Then, I was upset because I only get sports bras that I believe will flatten me. This one, clearly, is not going to serve the purpose I intended for it. Then I was kind of happy because that means the other ones that I wear do serve their purposes.
In any event, I feel like this might be a big year for change. Last year was a big year for change, but this year might be the finishing touches. Maybe it's all a big process that we're never done with. Gender expression is never ending I suppose.
I guess the long and short of what I am trying to say is that I always considered myself feminine (femme if you're into that kind of terminology) but I don't think that's me anymore. I don't think that ever really was me. I am the same tomboy I was before the fifth grade. Maybe they don't call us tomboys anymore. Maybe tomboys who also happen to be lesbians are called queer? I'm not sure. I always called things that were weird "queer," and only recently heard it used to describe anything that wasn't heterosexual and "normal."
So maybe I'm becoming the big scary queer lesbian I never thought I would be. It's hard to go through things like this and not have anyone to bounce ideas off of. I wish someone would just say to me: It's okay to want to cut your hair short, hair will grow back. It's okay to wear tight sports bras. It's okay to wear boy shorts and boy swim trunks and t-shirts. It's okay to not allow anyone to hold the door for you or to treat you like some kind of girl. I'm not some kind of girl. I'm just me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)