Music has been my lifeblood for many, many years. It kept me sane on any number of occasions, and pushed me to the brink on others. The adrenaline rush of performance, of being seen and heard, is something I fear and crave simultaneaously. I absolutely hate being in front of large groups of people (or even small groups of people for that matter). It's not that I fear rejection, because I could care less if they didn't like the way I played or the things I had to say. I fear my own interpretation of what I do. If what I do is not perfect in my eyes (perhaps it's not perfect in the eyes of others, but I obviously don't know that unless they tell me) I keep picking at what was, and picking and picking so the scab never heals. It's not just music, it's everything. It sounds kind of OCD, and maybe it is some variation of OCD but it's not terrible. It simply is.
I can live with performing to the best of my ability, to writing to the best of my ability, to being the best friend I can be, etc. I try so hard at everything that I do, and often find myself completely depleted of energy, which makes me kind of useless. So how do I renew my energy? Where can I cut back so that I am not running on empty?
Music is and has been my life. But I just don't see myself playing with my school ensemble this year. I can't STAND how small it is, for one thing. I was always in a big orchestra, well funded, but where every member was still appreciated as an individual.
I need to take some time out and find out for myself where music stands in my life. Does it remain what it is and has been for me? Or do I find a new direction? I can't imagine my life without music, and I don't want to. But I also don't want to put myself through what I went through last year with this particular ensemble.
I guess we'll see what happens.
A life without music is a fate worse than death.
Besides being slightly lost in terms of my musical goals for the coming year, I'm basically ecstatic. School starts in six days.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lwNSYplomMA
That song describes how I'm feeling right now (and also my lack of ability at posting videos... I suck). Nothing's gonna bring me down.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Granma: the Wee Voice in Yar Head
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!"
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!"
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.
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