I look at the clock. It's on my side today. I have fully three hours of time to myself, in the house. This is a rare and wonderful treat. What do I do, what do I usually do?
It might be suprising, but in this order: Porn. Chocolate. Reading.
Yep, you heard me. I check out my favorite sex blogs, dealing with suprising topics ranging from call girls and strippers, to femdom, to the searing hot fantasies of a "normal" housewife type. Maybe if I'm still feeling frisky, I'll head over to Literotica. Good stuff. Call it a guilty pleasure, but it's such a rare treat.
Then comes chocolate (or other appropriately naughty snack which I refuse to share). Now see, whenever I'm in the house and I get the munchies, I find something reasonably healthy to snack on. Whenever I snack, 95% of the time, some male will wander into the room and cop a handful, a taste, a bite, or just straight up ask me to make some more. Well, fuck that, some things I ain't sharing.
Reading. Books. At home. During the DAY! Pure unadulterated luxury. If I'm not home alone, and I attempt to read something more engaging than websites or a cookbook, well...strike that, because I don't. In this house "book open in front of me" is equal to "Lili is interested in listening to you prattle on about whatever, and wants to give you her undivided attention".
My alone time is over now. The house is filled with people again, bustling and verging on loud. Alone time is a memory, now. At least I have this blog as a momento!
5.01.2008
1.11.2008
Bubblehead (or, I'm so mistanthropic)
Is it wrong to not want to be friends with someone because they’re just too dumb? We’re hanging out with girl, someone I lost touch with (sorta deliberately), one of Phil’s exes tonight. She’s sweet, but exceedingly boring, and tiresome to spend any amount of time with. Irv gets a Myspace, and now all of a sudden, he’s mister social butterfly talking to all these girls (which is fine, in and of itself) but to foist them on me is somewhat annoying. I don’t mind her, and I don’t mind going out to dinner or hanging out once in awhile, but I can’t see myself forging the deep bonds of friendship with someone who can’t even hold a phone conversation.
She calls me, just to confirm that we’re hanging out, but I can’t get a word edgewise, because she’s giggling endlessly.
Her: “hehehehehehehehehehe we haven’t hung out in so long hehehehehheehhehehe”
Me: “Yeah, it’ll be great to hang out tonight, what did you feel like doing? Wanna go get some food or something.”
Her: “hehehehhehehehehehe I don’t know”.
Me: “ok, well, we’ll decide when you get here” “hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe ok!”
So, I’m hanging out with her, and her equally dumb yet twice as narcissistic sister, and they’re over an hour late. I’m getting steadily drunker, and tonight is gonna be a fiasco if the airheads don’t turn up soon.
I’m not judgemental, I won’t -not- hang out with her, but I can’t see myself working too hard to preserve this friendship. Irv does, for some reason, though, he’s such a sap.
She calls me, just to confirm that we’re hanging out, but I can’t get a word edgewise, because she’s giggling endlessly.
Her: “hehehehehehehehehehe we haven’t hung out in so long hehehehehheehhehehe”
Me: “Yeah, it’ll be great to hang out tonight, what did you feel like doing? Wanna go get some food or something.”
Her: “hehehehhehehehehehe I don’t know”.
Me: “ok, well, we’ll decide when you get here” “hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe ok!”
So, I’m hanging out with her, and her equally dumb yet twice as narcissistic sister, and they’re over an hour late. I’m getting steadily drunker, and tonight is gonna be a fiasco if the airheads don’t turn up soon.
I’m not judgemental, I won’t -not- hang out with her, but I can’t see myself working too hard to preserve this friendship. Irv does, for some reason, though, he’s such a sap.
9.14.2006
My Karma is running me over.
That's about how I feel, right now. I'm not sure what I did recently to deserve this dose of yuck, but goddamn. This weird blight thing is looking like a Staph infection. Staph scares me, but it's treatable, I'm taking antibiotics, right now.
I fell down the last three steps, just a few minutes ago, and twisted the everlovingfuck out of my knee.
I'm tired but I can't sleep. Bored, but I can't read. Annoyed with certain people living in my house, who think World of Warcraft makes a great life career ("I only played seven hours today...what, I was taking a break...") I'm. Just. Pissy.
Seems like every nerve ending on my body is singing with some kind of pain, and or itching.
I need to get well. I need to get away for a little while.
On the up side, I started classes, today. I'm really enthusiastic about them both. The writing class looks to be difficult, but in a good way. The music/history class is a riot, the professors are fantastic, funny, old hippies. The writing professor is really a history/philosophy prof, but he's teaching the writing class, because like he said "I do enough of this shit on a day-to-day, that I'm qualified to teach it." Think Donald Sutherland in Animal House. Not the scene where he's padding across the kitchen bareassed, but the scene where he's like "do you want to smoke some pot?".
Maybe I twisted my knee, because I was thinking impure thoughts about my relatively hot writing teacher. Or, maybe I'm just clumsy with the tendancy to overanalyze everything...
I fell down the last three steps, just a few minutes ago, and twisted the everlovingfuck out of my knee.
I'm tired but I can't sleep. Bored, but I can't read. Annoyed with certain people living in my house, who think World of Warcraft makes a great life career ("I only played seven hours today...what, I was taking a break...") I'm. Just. Pissy.
Seems like every nerve ending on my body is singing with some kind of pain, and or itching.
I need to get well. I need to get away for a little while.
On the up side, I started classes, today. I'm really enthusiastic about them both. The writing class looks to be difficult, but in a good way. The music/history class is a riot, the professors are fantastic, funny, old hippies. The writing professor is really a history/philosophy prof, but he's teaching the writing class, because like he said "I do enough of this shit on a day-to-day, that I'm qualified to teach it." Think Donald Sutherland in Animal House. Not the scene where he's padding across the kitchen bareassed, but the scene where he's like "do you want to smoke some pot?".
Maybe I twisted my knee, because I was thinking impure thoughts about my relatively hot writing teacher. Or, maybe I'm just clumsy with the tendancy to overanalyze everything...
9.12.2006
Mostly good.
So, my dad is visiting, and it’s nice. Not earth shattering, but, nice. Nice to see him. Nice to have him hanging around. I really wish they lived closer. This once a year shit is getting to be a real strain, he’s getting older, missing Alden growing up, etc. Yesterday, I was housebound with some strange affliction (more on that later) and I cooked all day. The windows were open, September was breezing across the house, and I spent the whole day nurturing a Bolognese sauce, to later incorporate into some kickass lasagna. I even made a pie, for dessert. Music was playing low, Irv was home all day, and things couldn’t get more pleasant. I really wish we had more time like that, to spend. He commented, even that he wished we lived closer together, because we would have a great time cooking together. Today, Irv and Luiz decided to cut grass later in the afternoon and we went out all morning. We spent the time shopping, hanging around Red Bank, the requisite Elsie’s visit (best subs in NJ). Tomorrow I start classes, so it’ll be one of those “every person for themselves” sorta day.
So, yeah, having Dad around is nice.
Surrounding that, things have been weird. Sunday afternoon, I was walking around, in the garden, picking tomatoes and eggplant. A little later, at dinner, my face started to itch. By night time, my whole lower face, from my cheeks down to my neck, focused around my chin, everything was swollen beyond recognition. I downed Benadryl, and prayed for it to go away…it reduced somewhat, by Monday, but then my eyes swelled shut. One was just puffy, but the other eye was swelled closed. Cold compresses, more Benadryl…the swelling is almost gone, now, but I’m still generally puffy and itchy. I have a new one starting on my arm, today. My whole forearm…hard, painful, swollen, red/white, and itchy like a motherfucker. When the swelling goes down, there’s a tiny little itchy bug bite right in the center. I had three on my face that I know of, and now one on my inner arm. This. Sucks.
More suckitivity. They shut off our power today, due to some ridiculous accounting error, on their part. Long, mundane story short, we had to pay something like $450 to get the power restored. On the upside, it was only off for about an hour. But, what the fuck…
So, yeah, having Dad around is nice.
Surrounding that, things have been weird. Sunday afternoon, I was walking around, in the garden, picking tomatoes and eggplant. A little later, at dinner, my face started to itch. By night time, my whole lower face, from my cheeks down to my neck, focused around my chin, everything was swollen beyond recognition. I downed Benadryl, and prayed for it to go away…it reduced somewhat, by Monday, but then my eyes swelled shut. One was just puffy, but the other eye was swelled closed. Cold compresses, more Benadryl…the swelling is almost gone, now, but I’m still generally puffy and itchy. I have a new one starting on my arm, today. My whole forearm…hard, painful, swollen, red/white, and itchy like a motherfucker. When the swelling goes down, there’s a tiny little itchy bug bite right in the center. I had three on my face that I know of, and now one on my inner arm. This. Sucks.
More suckitivity. They shut off our power today, due to some ridiculous accounting error, on their part. Long, mundane story short, we had to pay something like $450 to get the power restored. On the upside, it was only off for about an hour. But, what the fuck…
9.08.2006
Wolfboy and his puppies
Mm, I ran into Wolfboy, today.
I didn't recognize him, at first, he shaved his head, put on a few lbs. and grew some facial hair. I mean, it has been 8+ years...last time I saw him, he was stalking Irv and I through Pathmark, snarling. Irv and I were laughing...it was laughable.
So, he cruses up to me, at the school, and starts chatting. I start chatting back, thinking to myself "I know this guy...who is this guy...we used to hang out" Then, it hit me..it's Mark! At first, I felt all awkward, but then we started talking about our kids, and old friends, and stuff, and it was remarkably friendly, and pleasant. And, so ordinary!
I had to break up with him, because he thought he was a warewolf. He also had skinhead tendencies, and I hate that shit. He was a big poser, though, because he didn't really disrespect anyone, he just saw a few skinhead movies and thought they were really cool. But, he was crazy...he really did think he was this powerful, rippling muscled warewolf. He would howl at the full moon, and writhe around "changing" and, at the time, I was both afraid of him (not because he would tear me up, but because he was genuinely crazy) and sad for him. He was also sexually neurotic. He disliked fluids, he didn't like wetness, or sweat, or any natural sex-type-excretion. He wouldn't touch me, and it took him an hour of frantic concentrating to get off. I see he has three kids now, so probably he got over that little quirk.
But, I loved him, genuinely. We had so SO much stuff in common...I think we would have been better as friends, and never tried to be a couple. I had a few relationships like that. It was a nice easy conversation, talking about old friends, seeing people that are still around, etc.
I feel bad about the breakup, still. I was such a bitch when I was younger. I met another guy, a normal, athletic, smokin' hot artist-type, who was a tai-kwon-do champion, he was an Olympic hopeful, trained at the top school in NJ. After dealing with Mark's quirks, and his crying, and dealing with being his mommy, and his jealousy, pseudo-racisim, wolfyness...I just was totally in love with this other guy, and dumped Mark on the spot. In a letter.
I feel bad, because we'd had a huge fight, a few weeks, before, and he was getting better. It was one of those huge "sitting on the kitchen floor, clutching each other, crying, promising to make it better" fights. And, he got so much better, he turned into superboyfriend. Then, I broke up with him. He was all suicidal..calling me, crying... I was such a shit.
So, yeah, that's what I thought about, today, seeing Mark. He's still hot, though. His kid is adorable, and his wife is cute, and I'm thrilled that he's normal, now, or relatively normal, at least.
Of course, "the girls" Darlene, Angela, Sue, and Ronnie, all had to rib me.
I look forward to seeing him and his family again, we still seem to have all that stuff in common, he's still all metal, and I could use some more metal friends. I would love if Alden and his kid started hanging out.
I wonder if he still howls at the moon.
I didn't recognize him, at first, he shaved his head, put on a few lbs. and grew some facial hair. I mean, it has been 8+ years...last time I saw him, he was stalking Irv and I through Pathmark, snarling. Irv and I were laughing...it was laughable.
So, he cruses up to me, at the school, and starts chatting. I start chatting back, thinking to myself "I know this guy...who is this guy...we used to hang out" Then, it hit me..it's Mark! At first, I felt all awkward, but then we started talking about our kids, and old friends, and stuff, and it was remarkably friendly, and pleasant. And, so ordinary!
I had to break up with him, because he thought he was a warewolf. He also had skinhead tendencies, and I hate that shit. He was a big poser, though, because he didn't really disrespect anyone, he just saw a few skinhead movies and thought they were really cool. But, he was crazy...he really did think he was this powerful, rippling muscled warewolf. He would howl at the full moon, and writhe around "changing" and, at the time, I was both afraid of him (not because he would tear me up, but because he was genuinely crazy) and sad for him. He was also sexually neurotic. He disliked fluids, he didn't like wetness, or sweat, or any natural sex-type-excretion. He wouldn't touch me, and it took him an hour of frantic concentrating to get off. I see he has three kids now, so probably he got over that little quirk.
But, I loved him, genuinely. We had so SO much stuff in common...I think we would have been better as friends, and never tried to be a couple. I had a few relationships like that. It was a nice easy conversation, talking about old friends, seeing people that are still around, etc.
I feel bad about the breakup, still. I was such a bitch when I was younger. I met another guy, a normal, athletic, smokin' hot artist-type, who was a tai-kwon-do champion, he was an Olympic hopeful, trained at the top school in NJ. After dealing with Mark's quirks, and his crying, and dealing with being his mommy, and his jealousy, pseudo-racisim, wolfyness...I just was totally in love with this other guy, and dumped Mark on the spot. In a letter.
I feel bad, because we'd had a huge fight, a few weeks, before, and he was getting better. It was one of those huge "sitting on the kitchen floor, clutching each other, crying, promising to make it better" fights. And, he got so much better, he turned into superboyfriend. Then, I broke up with him. He was all suicidal..calling me, crying... I was such a shit.
So, yeah, that's what I thought about, today, seeing Mark. He's still hot, though. His kid is adorable, and his wife is cute, and I'm thrilled that he's normal, now, or relatively normal, at least.
Of course, "the girls" Darlene, Angela, Sue, and Ronnie, all had to rib me.
I look forward to seeing him and his family again, we still seem to have all that stuff in common, he's still all metal, and I could use some more metal friends. I would love if Alden and his kid started hanging out.
I wonder if he still howls at the moon.
9.07.2006
Stuff..
We have so much shit to do...my Dad's gonna be here in 3 days, and I wanted to get so much done. Not that he cares, of course, house tidiness only marginally registers on his personal meter...I just feel better. If we can't get motivated to tidy up the bookshelves, and mop the back half of the house for him visiting, I give up hope for getting motivated to do it, at all. One of those things. Though, It's 7:30, and I'm really sleepy right now. After I get home from taking Alden to school, I hope I can find it in myself not to pass out on the living room floor, like I did yesterday...
Luiz is no help. I tell him the night before...k, we're getting up early, go to bed at a normal time. He doesn't, and is a pain in the ass to wake up. I give up in the middle of trying to wake him up, and get all slackass, myself. It's such a cycle.
Oh, how I would love to be sleeping now.
Luiz is no help. I tell him the night before...k, we're getting up early, go to bed at a normal time. He doesn't, and is a pain in the ass to wake up. I give up in the middle of trying to wake him up, and get all slackass, myself. It's such a cycle.
Oh, how I would love to be sleeping now.
9.06.2006
Blogging about blogging
A little metablogging, here.
I stopped, because I thought my life wasn't exciting enough to blog about. Then, I miss it, because it's not about readership, being interesting, or trying to entertain people...but blogging is my therapy, lining up the thoughts, getting them down, pouring it out. I've always been more articulate in text than in speech, and ranting about stuff to an audience (willing or unwilling) with my voice just doesn't cut it. In fact, when I do, I often find myself getting more worked up, because just finding words to express myself can be frustrating. Or, worrying if I'm making sense or not. I think faster than I talk, so I stammer and fumble over my words, and I speak very fast. Typing slows that whole process down, and makes me inventory my mind, in a way.
So, this is therapy. I'm quite sure all my readers are gone, thank god.
Plus, the whole "gee, I'm sorry I took a week off from posting, I'll be better" thing really stinks. I type when I have things to type about. If I feel like I have to make updates, FOR people...guess what, I avoid it all together. This isn't for PEOPLE. This is for ME.
It's all about me, baby.
I'm tired, hungry, and I think I'm getting sick. My dad is gonna be here in 4 days, and it -still- looks like a bomb hit the house. I can't get anybody to do anything, except play games and watch TV. I'm really close to having one of Those Days, where I flip out, and everyone gets a little scared. That might be what we need.
Damn, it feels good to whine.
I stopped, because I thought my life wasn't exciting enough to blog about. Then, I miss it, because it's not about readership, being interesting, or trying to entertain people...but blogging is my therapy, lining up the thoughts, getting them down, pouring it out. I've always been more articulate in text than in speech, and ranting about stuff to an audience (willing or unwilling) with my voice just doesn't cut it. In fact, when I do, I often find myself getting more worked up, because just finding words to express myself can be frustrating. Or, worrying if I'm making sense or not. I think faster than I talk, so I stammer and fumble over my words, and I speak very fast. Typing slows that whole process down, and makes me inventory my mind, in a way.
So, this is therapy. I'm quite sure all my readers are gone, thank god.
Plus, the whole "gee, I'm sorry I took a week off from posting, I'll be better" thing really stinks. I type when I have things to type about. If I feel like I have to make updates, FOR people...guess what, I avoid it all together. This isn't for PEOPLE. This is for ME.
It's all about me, baby.
I'm tired, hungry, and I think I'm getting sick. My dad is gonna be here in 4 days, and it -still- looks like a bomb hit the house. I can't get anybody to do anything, except play games and watch TV. I'm really close to having one of Those Days, where I flip out, and everyone gets a little scared. That might be what we need.
Damn, it feels good to whine.
What else?
So, school started back up, for Alden.
The week prior, I was alternately excited for him, because I loved the first days of school, and worried. I've been trying to get him to read all summer long, and he's been uninterested, at best. I'd have him grab a book, and sit next to me on the couch, while we read together, for half hour blocks. He would, grudgingly, but I found out too late in the summer that he was sitting there staring into space for the duration. I started testing him on what he said he was reading, and he would stare blankly. So, the past few weeks, we were actively reading out loud, and I was giving him written Q&A on the material he read...I was dismayed at his progress, or lack thereof. In fact, he's gone backwards, this summer.
Today was the second day, and already his teacher had to see me after class, and show me an assignment that he didn't finish. He had to write a paragraph, on the most memorable thing he did, this summer... Not only did he not even do that, he destroyed the paper, in the process. Second day of school, and he's the only kid with homework. I was unhappy, to say the least. His teacher lectured him, on the spot. I lectured him all the way home, where my mother was hanging out in the driveway, she let him have it too. Irv came home briefly to pick up Luiz and the trailer, and Irv yelled at him. On his way out, Luiz also let Alden know how dissapointed he was.
I had to ask, after we got inside, and everyone was gone..."Alden, do you like this? Do you like your entire family so dissapointed with you? Is this how it's gonna be for the next 179 days?" He doesn't like it, but apparently that prospect didn't have enough impact to get him going, either. Starting at 4:00 I gave him a half hour to brainstorm an idea for his paragraph. He didn't do it in time. I took away his privelages for the rest of the day. I gave him till 5. He finished it by 5. I gave him 45 minutes to write a first draft (in my house, every writing assignment goes in drafts, without exception) of seven sentences...this isn't brain surgery, he's eight years old. 45 minutes, seven sentences. He didn't finish. He lost tomorrow's privileges too. Instead, I watched him line up erasers like cars, move his paper around till it was perfectly even to the bottom of the table, stare off into space, pick his toes, etc. Left alone, with no company and no outside stimuli, he would rather do nothing, than get his job done. I gave him till 6:30 to finish it, final copy, and all. He failed that too. He lost privileges till Thursday of next week. Losing privileges means no free time after school. He does his homework by a certain time, then his chores, then extra ones that I think of, then he sits with me, and reads his book, aloud (so I know he's not staring off into space). At 7 pm, he was going to lose them for 2 weeks, but he slid the paper in, one paragraph by 6:58.
I'm really distraught.
He's on a strict timetable, right now, with each stage of his day clocked out, he has to be. I hate living like this, I hate making him live like this, and I would never enact such strict measures, if I didn't think he needed it. He always gets a chance to prove himself, first, and he inevitably fucks up, forcing me to give him a strict, almost militaristic schedule.
Nothing seems to be getting through. No threat scares him. It got so bad, last year, we actually unplugged the TV and DVD player from his room, and removed it, for 6 months. We've taken everything away, till all he had was school, homework, chores, and sleep. Apparently, it still doesn't phase him. When life is good, which we get for brief windows, he gets lots of playtime, we have a huge yard, he has a thousand dollar swingset, xbox, ps2, endless movies, gameboy, and...he goes 70% of his life merely staring at these things longingly, as he screws another day away, taking 4 hours to finish what could be done in 15 minutes.
Now, not every day is like this. When he wants to, he will gladly dash out an assignment in 20 minutes. If he's interested in the work, or just feels like doing it. He reads ok still has a bit of trouble with comprehension, and he writes well. He has a vast understanding of sciences and interest in mathmatical stuff. If he were stupid, I could accept his issues, I would understand and work around it. The fact that he's not, makes this stuff all the more difficult.
Right now, I'm sitting here recovering from a slamming headache. This year cannot go on like this.
The week prior, I was alternately excited for him, because I loved the first days of school, and worried. I've been trying to get him to read all summer long, and he's been uninterested, at best. I'd have him grab a book, and sit next to me on the couch, while we read together, for half hour blocks. He would, grudgingly, but I found out too late in the summer that he was sitting there staring into space for the duration. I started testing him on what he said he was reading, and he would stare blankly. So, the past few weeks, we were actively reading out loud, and I was giving him written Q&A on the material he read...I was dismayed at his progress, or lack thereof. In fact, he's gone backwards, this summer.
Today was the second day, and already his teacher had to see me after class, and show me an assignment that he didn't finish. He had to write a paragraph, on the most memorable thing he did, this summer... Not only did he not even do that, he destroyed the paper, in the process. Second day of school, and he's the only kid with homework. I was unhappy, to say the least. His teacher lectured him, on the spot. I lectured him all the way home, where my mother was hanging out in the driveway, she let him have it too. Irv came home briefly to pick up Luiz and the trailer, and Irv yelled at him. On his way out, Luiz also let Alden know how dissapointed he was.
I had to ask, after we got inside, and everyone was gone..."Alden, do you like this? Do you like your entire family so dissapointed with you? Is this how it's gonna be for the next 179 days?" He doesn't like it, but apparently that prospect didn't have enough impact to get him going, either. Starting at 4:00 I gave him a half hour to brainstorm an idea for his paragraph. He didn't do it in time. I took away his privelages for the rest of the day. I gave him till 5. He finished it by 5. I gave him 45 minutes to write a first draft (in my house, every writing assignment goes in drafts, without exception) of seven sentences...this isn't brain surgery, he's eight years old. 45 minutes, seven sentences. He didn't finish. He lost tomorrow's privileges too. Instead, I watched him line up erasers like cars, move his paper around till it was perfectly even to the bottom of the table, stare off into space, pick his toes, etc. Left alone, with no company and no outside stimuli, he would rather do nothing, than get his job done. I gave him till 6:30 to finish it, final copy, and all. He failed that too. He lost privileges till Thursday of next week. Losing privileges means no free time after school. He does his homework by a certain time, then his chores, then extra ones that I think of, then he sits with me, and reads his book, aloud (so I know he's not staring off into space). At 7 pm, he was going to lose them for 2 weeks, but he slid the paper in, one paragraph by 6:58.
I'm really distraught.
He's on a strict timetable, right now, with each stage of his day clocked out, he has to be. I hate living like this, I hate making him live like this, and I would never enact such strict measures, if I didn't think he needed it. He always gets a chance to prove himself, first, and he inevitably fucks up, forcing me to give him a strict, almost militaristic schedule.
Nothing seems to be getting through. No threat scares him. It got so bad, last year, we actually unplugged the TV and DVD player from his room, and removed it, for 6 months. We've taken everything away, till all he had was school, homework, chores, and sleep. Apparently, it still doesn't phase him. When life is good, which we get for brief windows, he gets lots of playtime, we have a huge yard, he has a thousand dollar swingset, xbox, ps2, endless movies, gameboy, and...he goes 70% of his life merely staring at these things longingly, as he screws another day away, taking 4 hours to finish what could be done in 15 minutes.
Now, not every day is like this. When he wants to, he will gladly dash out an assignment in 20 minutes. If he's interested in the work, or just feels like doing it. He reads ok still has a bit of trouble with comprehension, and he writes well. He has a vast understanding of sciences and interest in mathmatical stuff. If he were stupid, I could accept his issues, I would understand and work around it. The fact that he's not, makes this stuff all the more difficult.
Right now, I'm sitting here recovering from a slamming headache. This year cannot go on like this.
2.20.2006
Time to not bitch about WoW...
So, in that last WoW post, I lamented and pissed and moaned. I was verging on quitting the game, I started AC again (which, while prettier than it used to be, is still on the clunky side, compared to WoW...) etc. Well, as a last ditch attempt to rescue it, I played on my "vacation char" My paladin, Dawna, over on Twisting Nether. I created that char when the server opened, as a way to get away from the guild bustle, and have some peace, as well as a little world PvP (I loves me some PvP). Luiz started playing Leonorous, again, the char he made there, to hang out with me. We were having...FUN! Wee! Guilty fun...we'd left all of OOH behind. I made one post, on the forums, inviting everyone to join us (defying the very nature of a vacation char...) and the rest is history. Within one week, we had 15 people (mostly core OOH members, with a few new guys that we picked up along the way). We all started chars around the same time (I'm playing a priest now...weird), so the bulk of the guild (besides the original 2, Dawna and Leo) are between level 15 and 23. It's awesome. The guild is in full swing, with a tabard, and a decent crafting pool. We're back to being a little family, having full groups of people all doing the same thing, having from 5-10 people on every night. It feels like it did a year ago, when we were an upstart guild, but with better, more mature people, with a better chemistry. Hell, last night, we all qued up for the sub-20 Battlegrounds, with a full group, and got in within 5 minutes. And...WON. Being a priest in a PvP situation is definitely interesting.
When I'm not playing WoW, I managed to get Luiz into NWN, so I play HoTU solo, or I coach him. Last night, we multiplayered HotU, just so I could teach him the basics of the game. I gotta teach that boy that every game is not a fighting game, and sometimes it behooves you to read the text, and make enlightened choices. Sometimes, the object of the game is not to simply plow and fight through the levels. He's played way too much xBox in his day. His idea of a good game is 'winning' with the highest numbers, the best gear, the fastest mob-takedown. NWN isn't a fighting game, it's an RPG. He's new at the concept.
When I'm not playing WoW, I managed to get Luiz into NWN, so I play HoTU solo, or I coach him. Last night, we multiplayered HotU, just so I could teach him the basics of the game. I gotta teach that boy that every game is not a fighting game, and sometimes it behooves you to read the text, and make enlightened choices. Sometimes, the object of the game is not to simply plow and fight through the levels. He's played way too much xBox in his day. His idea of a good game is 'winning' with the highest numbers, the best gear, the fastest mob-takedown. NWN isn't a fighting game, it's an RPG. He's new at the concept.
2.19.2006
I Want to Kill Bill.
So, Irv's gotta stop hanging out with this skinhead guy. He's worse than a skinhead, this guy. He's a junkie, straight up. He makes skinheads look bad. He's a bigot, and mess. Irv works with him, this guy named Bill, and Bill is rubbing off on him.
When Bill first started working there, about 2 years ago, Irv hated him. Guys's a scumbag, racist, hates women, alcoholic, crackhead. He deals drugs out of county trucks, I could go on and on. Irv hated him. Over time, though, Bill kinda grew on Irv.
Bill's a funny guy (you know, when he isn't throwing bottles out the window of his truck, at Mexicans on bikes) he's the life of the party. He's charismatic! Irv used to hate Bill, then he tolerated him...lately, Irv's been hanging out with Bill. Listening to Bill spew hate filled racist bullshit. Listening to Bill regale him with tales of nightly bar brawls, and how he fucked this bitch, or did lines off this whore's ass. Oh, Bill is so funny! So cool! Bill makes prank calls to escort agencies, looking for, uh, women of color, then asks if he can shit on their chest! Oh, Irv thinks that's just a riot. The other night, Bill appeared at my door, so drunk he could barely stand up, with a bloody gash across his forehead. He wanted to see if Irv could come out to play. Irv asked, "one beer? Please?" Sure, go, go. They went to the bar across the street. 4 hours later, Irv came back, WASTED (I don't think I've ever even seen him this drunk) stinking of 'bar' and with stories of Bill and his Friends. I was a little pissed, as you might imagine. I just ignored him, when he walked in the door, and ordered him to shower that stink off (that bar REEKS, like worse than most. I mean most bars smell like cigarette smoke and stale booze, but Aders has this underlying smell of nasty old cheese). He passed out, etc, and the next morning we talked about it. He hasn't gone back out, like that, he knew it pissed me off. Bill pisses me off.
It's been building gradually, but stuff is happening that I can't ignore. Lately, Irv's been coming out with some shit that really pisses me off. I'll mention something, like "My mom's been talking to this Indian guy online, says he's a doctor, wants to take her out for Indian food...I think she'd hate Indian food..." His answer to that line of conversation was "Oh, he's probably not a doctor, you know all those Indian guys, so sleazy..." What the FUCK? Where the hell did that shit come from? I fucking yelled at him, told him to keep that stereotype-racist bullshit out of my house, and away from Alden. The other night, driving through Keansburg, he went on a tirade about the town being a welfare state, and how They ruined what was once a pretty shore town. He was just rattling on and on, till I told him to watch out, he almost hit a woman walking across the street...he was like "Heh, the town would pay me to take one out, that'll make my taxes this year 3/10 of a penny less. Hurhurhur"
It's fucking out of control.
Last night, there was this guy walking around the resturaunt we were at...ok, he looked a little rough, sorta rumpled, and dressed very poorly, dirty sweatshirt, but whatever. So, Irv had to run back in the place, after we left, because I thought I left my iPod behind. The guy was going out the in door, and bumped into Irv. Irv made a comment like "watch where you're going, jerkoff" and the guy stopped and challenged him. I'm all "walk away walk away walk away...let's go, he's a fucking idiot, let's just go". No. Irv, the BIG MAN had to get right up in his face, and posture, and say shit. I'm dragging Alden to the car...then the guy's friend shows up. Irv gets in both their faces, saying all this shit, like he's gonna DO SOMETHING. (Right.) He's all staring them down, posturing, acting all tough... Seriously, he would have gotten his ass kicked. The guys noticed Alden and I standing there, and was like "Look at you, fucking acting like this in front of your wife and kid, let's go, I don't want to kick this guy's ass in front of his boy" and they left, with Irv shouting after them the whole time. I swear, if I had the keys, I would have hopped in the car and left him there. I was actually embarassed.
It's Bill. Irv...never fights, anymore (not that I've seen, ever...hell, you know my history, even when it COUNTED, he wouldn't jump in and fight, not even to protect me.)
Bill needs to go. I heard he put in for a transfer, so that's good. Apparently, he can't drive down the road in Holmdel, without getting pulled over. Looks like he flipped off one too many Holmdel cops. Add that to his priors, and the fact that he's awaiting trial, for posession...Heh, I think Bill's leaving the district soon, one way or another. I wish he'd left 6 months ago.
Irv needs to control himself, again. I think I'm going to have a serious talk with Irv.
When Bill first started working there, about 2 years ago, Irv hated him. Guys's a scumbag, racist, hates women, alcoholic, crackhead. He deals drugs out of county trucks, I could go on and on. Irv hated him. Over time, though, Bill kinda grew on Irv.
Bill's a funny guy (you know, when he isn't throwing bottles out the window of his truck, at Mexicans on bikes) he's the life of the party. He's charismatic! Irv used to hate Bill, then he tolerated him...lately, Irv's been hanging out with Bill. Listening to Bill spew hate filled racist bullshit. Listening to Bill regale him with tales of nightly bar brawls, and how he fucked this bitch, or did lines off this whore's ass. Oh, Bill is so funny! So cool! Bill makes prank calls to escort agencies, looking for, uh, women of color, then asks if he can shit on their chest! Oh, Irv thinks that's just a riot. The other night, Bill appeared at my door, so drunk he could barely stand up, with a bloody gash across his forehead. He wanted to see if Irv could come out to play. Irv asked, "one beer? Please?" Sure, go, go. They went to the bar across the street. 4 hours later, Irv came back, WASTED (I don't think I've ever even seen him this drunk) stinking of 'bar' and with stories of Bill and his Friends. I was a little pissed, as you might imagine. I just ignored him, when he walked in the door, and ordered him to shower that stink off (that bar REEKS, like worse than most. I mean most bars smell like cigarette smoke and stale booze, but Aders has this underlying smell of nasty old cheese). He passed out, etc, and the next morning we talked about it. He hasn't gone back out, like that, he knew it pissed me off. Bill pisses me off.
It's been building gradually, but stuff is happening that I can't ignore. Lately, Irv's been coming out with some shit that really pisses me off. I'll mention something, like "My mom's been talking to this Indian guy online, says he's a doctor, wants to take her out for Indian food...I think she'd hate Indian food..." His answer to that line of conversation was "Oh, he's probably not a doctor, you know all those Indian guys, so sleazy..." What the FUCK? Where the hell did that shit come from? I fucking yelled at him, told him to keep that stereotype-racist bullshit out of my house, and away from Alden. The other night, driving through Keansburg, he went on a tirade about the town being a welfare state, and how They ruined what was once a pretty shore town. He was just rattling on and on, till I told him to watch out, he almost hit a woman walking across the street...he was like "Heh, the town would pay me to take one out, that'll make my taxes this year 3/10 of a penny less. Hurhurhur"
It's fucking out of control.
Last night, there was this guy walking around the resturaunt we were at...ok, he looked a little rough, sorta rumpled, and dressed very poorly, dirty sweatshirt, but whatever. So, Irv had to run back in the place, after we left, because I thought I left my iPod behind. The guy was going out the in door, and bumped into Irv. Irv made a comment like "watch where you're going, jerkoff" and the guy stopped and challenged him. I'm all "walk away walk away walk away...let's go, he's a fucking idiot, let's just go". No. Irv, the BIG MAN had to get right up in his face, and posture, and say shit. I'm dragging Alden to the car...then the guy's friend shows up. Irv gets in both their faces, saying all this shit, like he's gonna DO SOMETHING. (Right.) He's all staring them down, posturing, acting all tough... Seriously, he would have gotten his ass kicked. The guys noticed Alden and I standing there, and was like "Look at you, fucking acting like this in front of your wife and kid, let's go, I don't want to kick this guy's ass in front of his boy" and they left, with Irv shouting after them the whole time. I swear, if I had the keys, I would have hopped in the car and left him there. I was actually embarassed.
It's Bill. Irv...never fights, anymore (not that I've seen, ever...hell, you know my history, even when it COUNTED, he wouldn't jump in and fight, not even to protect me.)
Bill needs to go. I heard he put in for a transfer, so that's good. Apparently, he can't drive down the road in Holmdel, without getting pulled over. Looks like he flipped off one too many Holmdel cops. Add that to his priors, and the fact that he's awaiting trial, for posession...Heh, I think Bill's leaving the district soon, one way or another. I wish he'd left 6 months ago.
Irv needs to control himself, again. I think I'm going to have a serious talk with Irv.
2.06.2006
Time to bitch about WoW
I'm breaking this into chunks. I guess I did have stuff to talk about.
So, I've been playing for over a year. Remember how smitten I was? I was in deep smit. It was the best game ever (it's still damn good, don't get me wrong).
I've logged in maybe twice, in the past week, and they were under duress. No one is on anymore. When we once had 15-20 people on, during peak times, now we have 5-maybe. There's a wait to get on the server, that's well over an hour, at times. That's ruined it for a lot of us. We're grownups, we have lives. We only HAVE an hour to play, some nights. You log in, and see "You are #896, estimated wait time 1 hour 47 minutes" and...well fuck that. Fuuuck that. Especially because you know everyone else worth playing with logged in and went "whoa, 2 hours? fuck that!" and went off to greener pastures.
Then there's what to do, if you actually weather the wait. Let's see. We could get in and do [insert one of 5 level 60 instances that don't require 40 people here] for the 900th time. Or, we could play alts! Yay! Let's go through Redridge for the 50th time, or we could PvP in the Battlegrounds, and wait for 1-3 hours, to get in THAT game (because the 2 hours you waited through, to log in, clearly wasn't enough, you masochist). And, boy, its so worth the wait, when you get in, to have a little fun with killing other players...when the Horde afks out, and you get kicked RIGHt back out into the line, again! What? 2 hour wait, and we only got to play for 45 seconds! Awesome! *gets back in line*
How. Fucking. Annoying.
The game itself, mostly, isn't bad. It's good. Last night, I played on another server, on an anonymous alt, and I had fun *just* playing.
I have to find that, again, but on MY server, with MY people.
I can't help but take the game itself seriously. It's not about the game, it's about the people, I sincerely love the people I've met, there, and I pine for that level of friendship when I'm not in it. So, just the very nature, as in the game is the crucible for some of my friendships, I have to evaluate stuff, and try to make an effort, to play.
In the meantime,though, I'm about to stress test D&D Online. It looks like it'll be amusing, but definitely not The Next Big Thing. I also, in a fit of drunkenness, ordered AC's expansion. You remember AC? That game I played like 2-4 years ago? I've got this deep nostalgia for it, and I sense that it's mostly bullshit I've been working up in my mind. The game should be here tomorrowish. I'll put THAT bullshit to rest. Or, I'll end up falling in love with it all over again, and playing. Who knows? It's something to do.
Blizzard, make me love you again. Where did we go wrong?
So, I've been playing for over a year. Remember how smitten I was? I was in deep smit. It was the best game ever (it's still damn good, don't get me wrong).
I've logged in maybe twice, in the past week, and they were under duress. No one is on anymore. When we once had 15-20 people on, during peak times, now we have 5-maybe. There's a wait to get on the server, that's well over an hour, at times. That's ruined it for a lot of us. We're grownups, we have lives. We only HAVE an hour to play, some nights. You log in, and see "You are #896, estimated wait time 1 hour 47 minutes" and...well fuck that. Fuuuck that. Especially because you know everyone else worth playing with logged in and went "whoa, 2 hours? fuck that!" and went off to greener pastures.
Then there's what to do, if you actually weather the wait. Let's see. We could get in and do [insert one of 5 level 60 instances that don't require 40 people here] for the 900th time. Or, we could play alts! Yay! Let's go through Redridge for the 50th time, or we could PvP in the Battlegrounds, and wait for 1-3 hours, to get in THAT game (because the 2 hours you waited through, to log in, clearly wasn't enough, you masochist). And, boy, its so worth the wait, when you get in, to have a little fun with killing other players...when the Horde afks out, and you get kicked RIGHt back out into the line, again! What? 2 hour wait, and we only got to play for 45 seconds! Awesome! *gets back in line*
How. Fucking. Annoying.
The game itself, mostly, isn't bad. It's good. Last night, I played on another server, on an anonymous alt, and I had fun *just* playing.
I have to find that, again, but on MY server, with MY people.
I can't help but take the game itself seriously. It's not about the game, it's about the people, I sincerely love the people I've met, there, and I pine for that level of friendship when I'm not in it. So, just the very nature, as in the game is the crucible for some of my friendships, I have to evaluate stuff, and try to make an effort, to play.
In the meantime,though, I'm about to stress test D&D Online. It looks like it'll be amusing, but definitely not The Next Big Thing. I also, in a fit of drunkenness, ordered AC's expansion. You remember AC? That game I played like 2-4 years ago? I've got this deep nostalgia for it, and I sense that it's mostly bullshit I've been working up in my mind. The game should be here tomorrowish. I'll put THAT bullshit to rest. Or, I'll end up falling in love with it all over again, and playing. Who knows? It's something to do.
Blizzard, make me love you again. Where did we go wrong?
2.05.2006
Mindy, for you.
Well, for me too, since it's been forever. But, I thought you would like seeing your name up there.
Every time I come back here and post after forever, I justify it by "well, life is boring, nothing blogworthy, I'm a happy girl"
It shouldn't be like that, I don't think. I think it should be just a stream of consiousness thing, happy or upset, whatever. Just because I once used it as a sounding board and a place to work shit out, doesn't mean I still have to. I've just gotten extremely lazy about it. I'll fess up.
So, the past two days, Irv and I have been toiling away, unpacking, emptying boxes, cleaning out next door, and boxes in the shed. A few of them were just boxes of stuff my mom unceremoniously dumped out of my drawers, from my old room, as I was in the process of moving out. Nice of her to inform me of their existance 9 years after the fact...I thought she just threw all that shit out. But, it was definitely a trip, going through all those old boxes, of stuff from when I was around 16-19, and thinking about those times. Lots of positive stuff, lots of stuff that made me think about Guam, and Jill, a definite positive time. Lots of things though, pointed at a very angry, depressed Lisa. Nothing outright. I know where the real angry writings are, I kept them, kept them safe. But, in doodles, drawings, song lyrics, etc. Some things, without even meaning to, just vibrated with depression and angst.
Also, lots of the things I was unpacking were books. I've been setting up my library-space, in this little walk-in closet thing,in my room. It's very cool, Irv made shelves to line the walls, and we're filling it with pillows, and rugs. Very comfortable little personal space. It made me think of things, too. I'm still into the same things, I still have books from when I was 12-13, and I still READ them (granted...I was into Stephen King, and Forgotton Realms at that age...not like I read kiddy lit now...not that there's anything WRONG with kiddy lit...alright, shit, I do read it anyway...talking myself in circles...stopping now). But, the point is, I was placing books on these shelves that I've had for 15 years. Being surrounded by them, was like being surrounded by old friends. That's such a cliche, but it's so true.
All that walking into the past made me reflect on how far I've come, and what life is like, for me now. Honestly, I couldn't be happier. I feel...blessed... I feel CHARMED. I feel lucky, and happy. I have almost everything I could want. I'm 27, have this awesome kid, husband, some of the best friends anyone could ask for. (Maybe, I'll post on friends, later. I don't blog enough about friends.) I'm just gooshy about it.
I feel grown up, I feel like a mom. I'm accepted by my mom-peers, I do the playdate thing, I do the classroom thing. I can relate to people on that level. I used to feel totally alienated from the other mom-types, around the school...but any more, I'm like...one of them. Just when I think I'm all grown up...I manage to suprise myself. Still. Punch me in the eye if I ever start driving a Volvo, ok? But, I feel grown up, and I feel like I can hang with that crowd. I can trade chicken recipes, and commiserate about the second grade spelling tests, like anyone.
I can still also play Halo till my eyes bleed. I'm a little kid, at heart.
I've blogged about it before, I know, but this weekend,and past few weeks have brought me to a very firm realization about it. So much so, that I don't question "who I am" anymore. I just am. And, I am happy.
Every time I come back here and post after forever, I justify it by "well, life is boring, nothing blogworthy, I'm a happy girl"
It shouldn't be like that, I don't think. I think it should be just a stream of consiousness thing, happy or upset, whatever. Just because I once used it as a sounding board and a place to work shit out, doesn't mean I still have to. I've just gotten extremely lazy about it. I'll fess up.
So, the past two days, Irv and I have been toiling away, unpacking, emptying boxes, cleaning out next door, and boxes in the shed. A few of them were just boxes of stuff my mom unceremoniously dumped out of my drawers, from my old room, as I was in the process of moving out. Nice of her to inform me of their existance 9 years after the fact...I thought she just threw all that shit out. But, it was definitely a trip, going through all those old boxes, of stuff from when I was around 16-19, and thinking about those times. Lots of positive stuff, lots of stuff that made me think about Guam, and Jill, a definite positive time. Lots of things though, pointed at a very angry, depressed Lisa. Nothing outright. I know where the real angry writings are, I kept them, kept them safe. But, in doodles, drawings, song lyrics, etc. Some things, without even meaning to, just vibrated with depression and angst.
Also, lots of the things I was unpacking were books. I've been setting up my library-space, in this little walk-in closet thing,in my room. It's very cool, Irv made shelves to line the walls, and we're filling it with pillows, and rugs. Very comfortable little personal space. It made me think of things, too. I'm still into the same things, I still have books from when I was 12-13, and I still READ them (granted...I was into Stephen King, and Forgotton Realms at that age...not like I read kiddy lit now...not that there's anything WRONG with kiddy lit...alright, shit, I do read it anyway...talking myself in circles...stopping now). But, the point is, I was placing books on these shelves that I've had for 15 years. Being surrounded by them, was like being surrounded by old friends. That's such a cliche, but it's so true.
All that walking into the past made me reflect on how far I've come, and what life is like, for me now. Honestly, I couldn't be happier. I feel...blessed... I feel CHARMED. I feel lucky, and happy. I have almost everything I could want. I'm 27, have this awesome kid, husband, some of the best friends anyone could ask for. (Maybe, I'll post on friends, later. I don't blog enough about friends.) I'm just gooshy about it.
I feel grown up, I feel like a mom. I'm accepted by my mom-peers, I do the playdate thing, I do the classroom thing. I can relate to people on that level. I used to feel totally alienated from the other mom-types, around the school...but any more, I'm like...one of them. Just when I think I'm all grown up...I manage to suprise myself. Still. Punch me in the eye if I ever start driving a Volvo, ok? But, I feel grown up, and I feel like I can hang with that crowd. I can trade chicken recipes, and commiserate about the second grade spelling tests, like anyone.
I can still also play Halo till my eyes bleed. I'm a little kid, at heart.
I've blogged about it before, I know, but this weekend,and past few weeks have brought me to a very firm realization about it. So much so, that I don't question "who I am" anymore. I just am. And, I am happy.
11.07.2005
Random stuff
Just some things that pop into my head, now and then…
I went to get my nails done, yesterday, pedicure and eyebrows too. I’ve been going to this place since summer, but I think I hate it. I really need to learn Vietnamese. It’s hard to find a good nail place.
I’m always a little paranoid, when I’m sitting there, in every place it’s the same. They’re talking and laughing back and forth, in their native tongue, I always get the feeling they’re talking about me, or us, the customers. Generally, it’s probably not. Yesterday, though, it definitely was. I was the only one in there, and there were 4 employees hanging around, the girl that runs the place, and three guys. They kept walking over to where I was, and talking to the guy doing my nails, and I got the sense that they were ribbing him. Then, they would all look at me, and start laughing hysterically. Then, another guy did my pedicure, and it was more of the same. Till I shot the woman The Look, you know, my look. The one you can feel. The giggling pretty much dried up, though I could tell they were making all these little comments. They would say something with sort of a short, clipped feel, and glance my way.
Not only that…but my nails are butchered, and my eyebrows…horrifying. Alden could have done a better job.
I’m rather appalled at that sort of treatment. I was the only customer in there, for the whole time, and I didn’t just come in there for a little procedure, I was having a lot of stuff done, and I tip well, REALLY well. I used to tip Paul, like $20. But…how long do you think that place is going to stay open, when the employees spend half their time mocking and making little comments about their only customer, and the other half of the time butchering them? That’s so fucked up. A plague upon all their ancestors, I hope the place burns down. I hate being made to feel like a spectacle. I mean, I already feel like one, every minute of my life, that kind of shit just fucks me up even more.
More random stuff:
Irv has been really irritable lately. Really really. I have no idea what’s causing it, but like EVERYTHING frustrates him. He plays WoW with me now, and he’s close in level, now to all my chars. He’s big enough to do the end-game stuff, and I thought he would be happy that he finally caught up. No. When I deliberately invite him along, he gets annoyed at some element of the group, like it takes too long, he’s not making any gold, some person rubs him the wrong way, etc…Like, anything he can find to complain about. Something ALWAYS inevitably sets him off. So…I don’t force him to come along, and he goes off and does his own thing. I hang with my static group, and we have fun. Like we always do. Then, he’s all pissy because I disclude him, because I’m always “running around with THOSE guys, they’re always up your ass” (We have about 10 people that more or less steadily quest together, there’s always between 3-10 of us around, so we just hang out.) So…I endeavor to spend alone time with him. Which seems to make him happy…but I move to fast, he says. He actually had a tantrum and called me a powerleveler, because I didn’t hand walk him to an area, I gave him specific directions, and had him meet me there.
He started this ridiculous fight, and said all sorts of hurtful things, making wild accusations, Saturday night. Because my character was standing too near a guy’s char. An in game buddy of mine, we happened to be standing next to each other, in this central area, and he came up and saw that, and flipped out. It’s akin to standing near someone in an elevator. You can’t HELP it, and it’s mostly coincidence. But, oh, he flipped out, because my pixilated fictitious cartoon-like avatar was standing just a little too close to someone else’s. As far as the game goes, I can’t make him happy, at ALL, and I’ve tried talking about what’s ‘really’ bothering him, but he says nothing.
All I ever wanted was for him to play WoW with me, and share this hobby that I love. Now, I’m dying to start an alt, and go off and do my own thing, and play without him. I love that he has an understanding of the game, and we share that in common…I just can’t cope with his high-maintenance-ness in game. It spills over to our normal life. He gets bitchy about something that tweaks him, in game, then goes off on me over RL shit. He gets in his ‘mode’ and starts attacking me, and being irrational about EVERYTHING. Be careful what you wish for, I guess.
This week will be cool, I think. Luiz is coming down, again, which is always fun. The weather is perfect, I anticipate us going out doing outdoorsy fall things a lot. Not enough of that, lately. But, I’m looking forward to going to the park, and for walks and stuff.
Jamaica is a month away, and I’m excited and apprehensive. I get anxiety, with new situations, and this will be one. I’m not looking forward to the dress code, and the fact that I’ll be in my bathing suit a lot. I’m very self conscious, and my typical clothes are my armor. I’ll be going into a very different setting, being stripped of my security blanket. I know I’ll be fine once I get there, but I have mild anxiety now. I don’t even HAVE the stuff I’m supposed to wear. So, there’s that to think about.
I almost fainted yesterday, for the second time in my life. Alden comes running into the house, going “OW OW OW OW” half in hysterics…not like him. He says “I fell on a nail!” and shows me his wrist. The skin is broken, in this jagged little slit, no bigger than ½” across with an inch long bruisy area heading down his arm. It was barely oozing blood. Classic puncture wound. I launched into nurse mode, washed his hands and the whole area with antimicrobial soap. Just then, Irv walked in, to see what was up, and Alden (who was AMAZINGLY calm) showed him the wound, and just looking at that tiny bloodless slit, and the bruising around it…it sent me into shock. Waves of nausea, everything got all far away, and tunnely, this buzzing happened in my ears, and huge viscous bubbles started popping in my brain, and in front of my eyes. I lost my footing and crashed into the kitchen door. Alden must have had it too, because he staggered into the bathroom and threw up. Irv took over, and helped him clean and dress the wound, while I was trying to regain my footing, and make my head start cooperating.
He’s had a tetanus shot, so we’re not worried, but Alden was on ‘light duty’ all day yesterday, spending a lot of time on the couch, watching various movies, with his arm in the air. It appears to have just punctured the skin, and slid in, horizontally, not going deep, or hitting anything vital. It just poked through all the layers of skin. He’s so tough. He shed minimal tears, threw up, and took it like a man. Mommy almost fainted right there in the kitchen.
I went to get my nails done, yesterday, pedicure and eyebrows too. I’ve been going to this place since summer, but I think I hate it. I really need to learn Vietnamese. It’s hard to find a good nail place.
I’m always a little paranoid, when I’m sitting there, in every place it’s the same. They’re talking and laughing back and forth, in their native tongue, I always get the feeling they’re talking about me, or us, the customers. Generally, it’s probably not. Yesterday, though, it definitely was. I was the only one in there, and there were 4 employees hanging around, the girl that runs the place, and three guys. They kept walking over to where I was, and talking to the guy doing my nails, and I got the sense that they were ribbing him. Then, they would all look at me, and start laughing hysterically. Then, another guy did my pedicure, and it was more of the same. Till I shot the woman The Look, you know, my look. The one you can feel. The giggling pretty much dried up, though I could tell they were making all these little comments. They would say something with sort of a short, clipped feel, and glance my way.
Not only that…but my nails are butchered, and my eyebrows…horrifying. Alden could have done a better job.
I’m rather appalled at that sort of treatment. I was the only customer in there, for the whole time, and I didn’t just come in there for a little procedure, I was having a lot of stuff done, and I tip well, REALLY well. I used to tip Paul, like $20. But…how long do you think that place is going to stay open, when the employees spend half their time mocking and making little comments about their only customer, and the other half of the time butchering them? That’s so fucked up. A plague upon all their ancestors, I hope the place burns down. I hate being made to feel like a spectacle. I mean, I already feel like one, every minute of my life, that kind of shit just fucks me up even more.
More random stuff:
Irv has been really irritable lately. Really really. I have no idea what’s causing it, but like EVERYTHING frustrates him. He plays WoW with me now, and he’s close in level, now to all my chars. He’s big enough to do the end-game stuff, and I thought he would be happy that he finally caught up. No. When I deliberately invite him along, he gets annoyed at some element of the group, like it takes too long, he’s not making any gold, some person rubs him the wrong way, etc…Like, anything he can find to complain about. Something ALWAYS inevitably sets him off. So…I don’t force him to come along, and he goes off and does his own thing. I hang with my static group, and we have fun. Like we always do. Then, he’s all pissy because I disclude him, because I’m always “running around with THOSE guys, they’re always up your ass” (We have about 10 people that more or less steadily quest together, there’s always between 3-10 of us around, so we just hang out.) So…I endeavor to spend alone time with him. Which seems to make him happy…but I move to fast, he says. He actually had a tantrum and called me a powerleveler, because I didn’t hand walk him to an area, I gave him specific directions, and had him meet me there.
He started this ridiculous fight, and said all sorts of hurtful things, making wild accusations, Saturday night. Because my character was standing too near a guy’s char. An in game buddy of mine, we happened to be standing next to each other, in this central area, and he came up and saw that, and flipped out. It’s akin to standing near someone in an elevator. You can’t HELP it, and it’s mostly coincidence. But, oh, he flipped out, because my pixilated fictitious cartoon-like avatar was standing just a little too close to someone else’s. As far as the game goes, I can’t make him happy, at ALL, and I’ve tried talking about what’s ‘really’ bothering him, but he says nothing.
All I ever wanted was for him to play WoW with me, and share this hobby that I love. Now, I’m dying to start an alt, and go off and do my own thing, and play without him. I love that he has an understanding of the game, and we share that in common…I just can’t cope with his high-maintenance-ness in game. It spills over to our normal life. He gets bitchy about something that tweaks him, in game, then goes off on me over RL shit. He gets in his ‘mode’ and starts attacking me, and being irrational about EVERYTHING. Be careful what you wish for, I guess.
This week will be cool, I think. Luiz is coming down, again, which is always fun. The weather is perfect, I anticipate us going out doing outdoorsy fall things a lot. Not enough of that, lately. But, I’m looking forward to going to the park, and for walks and stuff.
Jamaica is a month away, and I’m excited and apprehensive. I get anxiety, with new situations, and this will be one. I’m not looking forward to the dress code, and the fact that I’ll be in my bathing suit a lot. I’m very self conscious, and my typical clothes are my armor. I’ll be going into a very different setting, being stripped of my security blanket. I know I’ll be fine once I get there, but I have mild anxiety now. I don’t even HAVE the stuff I’m supposed to wear. So, there’s that to think about.
I almost fainted yesterday, for the second time in my life. Alden comes running into the house, going “OW OW OW OW” half in hysterics…not like him. He says “I fell on a nail!” and shows me his wrist. The skin is broken, in this jagged little slit, no bigger than ½” across with an inch long bruisy area heading down his arm. It was barely oozing blood. Classic puncture wound. I launched into nurse mode, washed his hands and the whole area with antimicrobial soap. Just then, Irv walked in, to see what was up, and Alden (who was AMAZINGLY calm) showed him the wound, and just looking at that tiny bloodless slit, and the bruising around it…it sent me into shock. Waves of nausea, everything got all far away, and tunnely, this buzzing happened in my ears, and huge viscous bubbles started popping in my brain, and in front of my eyes. I lost my footing and crashed into the kitchen door. Alden must have had it too, because he staggered into the bathroom and threw up. Irv took over, and helped him clean and dress the wound, while I was trying to regain my footing, and make my head start cooperating.
He’s had a tetanus shot, so we’re not worried, but Alden was on ‘light duty’ all day yesterday, spending a lot of time on the couch, watching various movies, with his arm in the air. It appears to have just punctured the skin, and slid in, horizontally, not going deep, or hitting anything vital. It just poked through all the layers of skin. He’s so tough. He shed minimal tears, threw up, and took it like a man. Mommy almost fainted right there in the kitchen.
10.17.2005
Tomorrow is the funeral...
So, I've felt like blogging, all last week. I just haven't had the energy, really.
This past week sucked horrendously. Worst. Week. Ever. The first half, I had massive PMS, as a nice backdrop to the events. It rained every single day, from Saturday, to Saturday. I had to stand out in it, every single day, to pick Alden up, from school.
Tuesday was the worst, though. It was raining so hard, you didn't even need the wipers on, because it was a solid crystal sheet of water pouring down the windshield. That bad. And about 40 degrees. I was out in it for a half hour. I was sure, SURE that I would be laid up with bronchitis, after that.
Monday Luiz was annoying. Tuesday, he was annoying. Probably no moreso than usual, but still. Tuesday, he and I got into this apocalyptic fight, that actually inspired me to block his name, from my messengers, and in game (no, I didn't. I got as far as typing /ignore before I was like "no, we can fix this" I couldn't make myself type his name.). One of those "Never speak to me again." kinds of fights. I went to bed, after it, and sobbed for 2 hours straight. I wrote this long, heartfelt email, apologizing for attacking him (I did start it, it's true) and, trying to get my point across. I was already trying to apologize, but he was so pissed he wasn't even responding. How often does Lisa throw herself at people's mercy and just lay out apologies like that? Not often. And he was too mad to even reply, that night. I was so hurt. I was also stressed, PMSsing, getting sick, tired, and depressed, already.
Tuesday, also Earl went in for major surgery. Now, I hate Earl, it's a fact, I don't try to cover that up. But, he's still family, I guess, and I was worried. He was having part of his bladder wall removed, and part of his prostate. He's been fighting cancer for like 5 years, and this was the first time he actually had to go get cut open. It was worrisome. There's this curse, everyone I've ever known that was fighting cancer (a lot, trust me) has always been...fine...till the surgery. Then comes the "we had to remove _____" and they have to get cut open. After that, it always seems to become terminal. I saw it happen to my grandfather, paternal grandmother, uncle, friends of the family, etc. Just, having to be cut open for it seems very final, to me.
Then, Tuesday, I found out that my mom booked a trip to the UK and France. For...this weekend. Earl was to get out of the hospital, tomorrow, and she would be leaving Saturday. For some 18 day trek across Europe. Yes, she scheduled the trip, after they scheduled the surgery. Yes, now I know my mother is a complete cunt. I sorta guessed at it before, but that hammered it home.
Finally, Tuesday, Helen, Aunt Lynne's mother died. Now, Helen was a sweet old lady, sort of a great aunt. Not some distant stuffy old lady type, we have a very tiny family, so Helen was close to us. Moreso, Aunt Lynne. I've mentioned her before. Of all the people in my family, I feel closest to her. We can relate better than anyone, she's someone I genuinely respect, look up to, I can see myself in her. She can see her young self in me. That's how close we are, like mother/daughter. I feel closer to her than my own mom, at times. Most times. And, her mother died. So, I'm crushed. I found out about that on Tuesday, as well.
I went to bed, Tuesday night, and sobbed myself to sleep, for maybe two hours. I got up Wednesday morning, also in tears. I was mentally, physically wrecked.
I spoke to Luiz, Wednesday morning, and we talked for a good three hours. We completely mended. He apologized, we were miscommunicating, he had no idea all the stuff going on, he just thought I was being a bitch (and, I was, to him, but I was outside of myself, on Tuesday) He doesn't deserve that, of course. But, he also promised to be a shade more sensitive, and caring, and try to remember that there's a human behind the text. It's hard, when your best friend is 3 hours away, and rely on voice and text to keep in touch.
I spoke to Aunt Lynne, finally, on Wednesday, about everything, we had one of those long, girly talks, I tried the best I could, to console her. What the hell do you say? She didn't get along well with her mother (just one thing we completely have in common) and she felt all kinds of guilty. She sat by her side at the hospital, though, for the 10 days she was in there. It was just horrible. But, I felt better after we talked. I wanted to hear her voice, I was so worried, and so concerned, I just wanted to know that she was holding up.
Wednesday, Earl made it through the surgery, very well. He was fine, and out of ICU, into a regular room. He even came home from the hospital a few days early. That too, was an enormous burden lifted.
I was still sick, still cramping, still sad as hell, but things were starting to lift.
Thursday and Friday were uneventful, Friday night was even fun, in game. I drank a bit, not a lot, got buzzed, and cut loose PvPing, being a badass hunter in my own little world, talking to my friends, all on Teamspeak, and having fun.
Saturday was great! It started great, at least, Mindy called! OMG MINDY! I almost fell out of my chair, heh. We wound up hanging out all day. Day wore into night, and we drank. Now, I hadn't planned on drinking, seriously, not at all. I have a "one night a week" policy. Oh, but Irv was pouring. Hard. Michele came over and hung out at one point, but I was so wasted at that point, I was half asleep in my chair. I don't remember much. I feel embarassed. I rarely lose control like that, and usually it's on the heels of major stress. I hadn't been that drunk since Schuyler was over, last year. I woke up yesterday shaking, and sick. Very very very sick. Needless to say, it'll be awhile before I drink like that again. I almost needed something like that, to throw on the brakes.
Yesterday, I slept it off, made lasagna for Aunt Lynne, looked for pictures of Helen, that we could add to the mural, found some of her, and my own grandmother, and got all weepy. It was sort of a day of hibernation, and domesticity.
Today, the day dawned absolutely GOREGOUS, bright, crisp, breezy cool...like a whole new fucking life. Now, I know I', 5 minutes away from leaving for the wake, and I know that's gonna be painful, and the funeral tomorrow, even moreso. I think I've blogged about funerals here. Hell, even Aunt Lynne said to me on the phone "I know how you feel about funerals, you don't have to come." Of course I'm going, I'm going for her, so I can hug her, and be there. But, it's gonna kill me.
Still, all that about to happen, and I feel great, today. I feel like whatever poison was haunting me last week, and even the week before, has been bled clean, and now I'm weak, but recovering.
Now I have to go. I am late.
This past week sucked horrendously. Worst. Week. Ever. The first half, I had massive PMS, as a nice backdrop to the events. It rained every single day, from Saturday, to Saturday. I had to stand out in it, every single day, to pick Alden up, from school.
Tuesday was the worst, though. It was raining so hard, you didn't even need the wipers on, because it was a solid crystal sheet of water pouring down the windshield. That bad. And about 40 degrees. I was out in it for a half hour. I was sure, SURE that I would be laid up with bronchitis, after that.
Monday Luiz was annoying. Tuesday, he was annoying. Probably no moreso than usual, but still. Tuesday, he and I got into this apocalyptic fight, that actually inspired me to block his name, from my messengers, and in game (no, I didn't. I got as far as typing /ignore before I was like "no, we can fix this" I couldn't make myself type his name.). One of those "Never speak to me again." kinds of fights. I went to bed, after it, and sobbed for 2 hours straight. I wrote this long, heartfelt email, apologizing for attacking him (I did start it, it's true) and, trying to get my point across. I was already trying to apologize, but he was so pissed he wasn't even responding. How often does Lisa throw herself at people's mercy and just lay out apologies like that? Not often. And he was too mad to even reply, that night. I was so hurt. I was also stressed, PMSsing, getting sick, tired, and depressed, already.
Tuesday, also Earl went in for major surgery. Now, I hate Earl, it's a fact, I don't try to cover that up. But, he's still family, I guess, and I was worried. He was having part of his bladder wall removed, and part of his prostate. He's been fighting cancer for like 5 years, and this was the first time he actually had to go get cut open. It was worrisome. There's this curse, everyone I've ever known that was fighting cancer (a lot, trust me) has always been...fine...till the surgery. Then comes the "we had to remove _____" and they have to get cut open. After that, it always seems to become terminal. I saw it happen to my grandfather, paternal grandmother, uncle, friends of the family, etc. Just, having to be cut open for it seems very final, to me.
Then, Tuesday, I found out that my mom booked a trip to the UK and France. For...this weekend. Earl was to get out of the hospital, tomorrow, and she would be leaving Saturday. For some 18 day trek across Europe. Yes, she scheduled the trip, after they scheduled the surgery. Yes, now I know my mother is a complete cunt. I sorta guessed at it before, but that hammered it home.
Finally, Tuesday, Helen, Aunt Lynne's mother died. Now, Helen was a sweet old lady, sort of a great aunt. Not some distant stuffy old lady type, we have a very tiny family, so Helen was close to us. Moreso, Aunt Lynne. I've mentioned her before. Of all the people in my family, I feel closest to her. We can relate better than anyone, she's someone I genuinely respect, look up to, I can see myself in her. She can see her young self in me. That's how close we are, like mother/daughter. I feel closer to her than my own mom, at times. Most times. And, her mother died. So, I'm crushed. I found out about that on Tuesday, as well.
I went to bed, Tuesday night, and sobbed myself to sleep, for maybe two hours. I got up Wednesday morning, also in tears. I was mentally, physically wrecked.
I spoke to Luiz, Wednesday morning, and we talked for a good three hours. We completely mended. He apologized, we were miscommunicating, he had no idea all the stuff going on, he just thought I was being a bitch (and, I was, to him, but I was outside of myself, on Tuesday) He doesn't deserve that, of course. But, he also promised to be a shade more sensitive, and caring, and try to remember that there's a human behind the text. It's hard, when your best friend is 3 hours away, and rely on voice and text to keep in touch.
I spoke to Aunt Lynne, finally, on Wednesday, about everything, we had one of those long, girly talks, I tried the best I could, to console her. What the hell do you say? She didn't get along well with her mother (just one thing we completely have in common) and she felt all kinds of guilty. She sat by her side at the hospital, though, for the 10 days she was in there. It was just horrible. But, I felt better after we talked. I wanted to hear her voice, I was so worried, and so concerned, I just wanted to know that she was holding up.
Wednesday, Earl made it through the surgery, very well. He was fine, and out of ICU, into a regular room. He even came home from the hospital a few days early. That too, was an enormous burden lifted.
I was still sick, still cramping, still sad as hell, but things were starting to lift.
Thursday and Friday were uneventful, Friday night was even fun, in game. I drank a bit, not a lot, got buzzed, and cut loose PvPing, being a badass hunter in my own little world, talking to my friends, all on Teamspeak, and having fun.
Saturday was great! It started great, at least, Mindy called! OMG MINDY! I almost fell out of my chair, heh. We wound up hanging out all day. Day wore into night, and we drank. Now, I hadn't planned on drinking, seriously, not at all. I have a "one night a week" policy. Oh, but Irv was pouring. Hard. Michele came over and hung out at one point, but I was so wasted at that point, I was half asleep in my chair. I don't remember much. I feel embarassed. I rarely lose control like that, and usually it's on the heels of major stress. I hadn't been that drunk since Schuyler was over, last year. I woke up yesterday shaking, and sick. Very very very sick. Needless to say, it'll be awhile before I drink like that again. I almost needed something like that, to throw on the brakes.
Yesterday, I slept it off, made lasagna for Aunt Lynne, looked for pictures of Helen, that we could add to the mural, found some of her, and my own grandmother, and got all weepy. It was sort of a day of hibernation, and domesticity.
Today, the day dawned absolutely GOREGOUS, bright, crisp, breezy cool...like a whole new fucking life. Now, I know I', 5 minutes away from leaving for the wake, and I know that's gonna be painful, and the funeral tomorrow, even moreso. I think I've blogged about funerals here. Hell, even Aunt Lynne said to me on the phone "I know how you feel about funerals, you don't have to come." Of course I'm going, I'm going for her, so I can hug her, and be there. But, it's gonna kill me.
Still, all that about to happen, and I feel great, today. I feel like whatever poison was haunting me last week, and even the week before, has been bled clean, and now I'm weak, but recovering.
Now I have to go. I am late.
9.18.2005
Mid-September
It’s one of those ultrapleasant weekends. I love weekends like this. Yesterday, I was able to sleep as late as I wanted, I then dragged my carcass downstarirs, drank a bottle of seltzer and a HUGE thing of iced coffee, and spent the rest of the day and half the night playing WoW, PvPing with my favorite game buddies. We broke, for dinner, went out got some great food, and came home, and got right back in game, and in Teamspeak. OOH Mopped up. We cleaned house. We actually won a few rounds. In a setting where the Horde is way more organized and dedicated, winning not one, but three spins through Arathi Basin, is a huge feat.
While I was being a gamer bum, inside, sitting around in boxers and a tee shirt, Irv and Alden landscaped this really barren section of the yard. Last week, they pulled out like, 9 trees (the ones going down the driveway, for those of you that know the house) and…it was pretty desolate. Yesterday, Irv and Alden went on a shopping spree, and bought a couple dozen trees and flowers and stuff, from Home Depot, and have been doing, like Monster Yard, ever since. The whole strip is all fresh black mulch dotted with those winter-cabbagey looking plants, and mums. There’s a spot near the house that curves and tapers into a long point, that he finished with white goose-egg stone. Very classy. He’s an arteest.
Today, I get up to Irv saying “get up in 5 minutes for breakfast!” I rolled outta bed around 9, mumbling and grumbling. I mean, I *was* up till 3 kicking ass… At the table is a yummy breakfast, and a cup of coffee, all laid out, just for me. I’m so lucky. Irv and Alden then run out to some building supply place, and come home with 2 yards each of red chip stone, and blue river pebbles…I watch them unload it, wondering what they have up their sleeve… Then I go inside and read. I’ve been reading Vonnegut’s Breakfast of Champions. One of the most quoteable books I’ve ever read, by the way. I can hear them landscaping…I know it’s gonna be good.
I just came back in from outside, and Alden’s out there, watering the new flower bed. It’s this curved area between the front door and the back door, that we had no idea what to do with. Well, now it’s dotted with small evergreens and holly bushes of varying species. Alden’s out there watering them calling them his “babies” He’e even named the bushes… “that one’s Spiky, and this low one is Green, and here’s Pricklepine, and Bushy, and Poofy” He named them, and adopted them. He vows to come out here and water them every day. Irv really did something cool with the stone, it’s mostly red, but the ends are curved off, and finished with a the grayish-blue, it looks like waves of grey stone lapping over the red, and the back corner was rounded. The red wends a path, enhanced by the grey. It’s all very dramatic looking.
Oh, and I’m only spending so much time inside because I have a nasty sinus infection. It started as my usual September allergies, but…blegh, with all this Guam-like 85 degree 100% humidity we’re having, it quickly turned into a sinus infection. So, I’ve been laying low. Pollen murders me.
While I was being a gamer bum, inside, sitting around in boxers and a tee shirt, Irv and Alden landscaped this really barren section of the yard. Last week, they pulled out like, 9 trees (the ones going down the driveway, for those of you that know the house) and…it was pretty desolate. Yesterday, Irv and Alden went on a shopping spree, and bought a couple dozen trees and flowers and stuff, from Home Depot, and have been doing, like Monster Yard, ever since. The whole strip is all fresh black mulch dotted with those winter-cabbagey looking plants, and mums. There’s a spot near the house that curves and tapers into a long point, that he finished with white goose-egg stone. Very classy. He’s an arteest.
Today, I get up to Irv saying “get up in 5 minutes for breakfast!” I rolled outta bed around 9, mumbling and grumbling. I mean, I *was* up till 3 kicking ass… At the table is a yummy breakfast, and a cup of coffee, all laid out, just for me. I’m so lucky. Irv and Alden then run out to some building supply place, and come home with 2 yards each of red chip stone, and blue river pebbles…I watch them unload it, wondering what they have up their sleeve… Then I go inside and read. I’ve been reading Vonnegut’s Breakfast of Champions. One of the most quoteable books I’ve ever read, by the way. I can hear them landscaping…I know it’s gonna be good.
I just came back in from outside, and Alden’s out there, watering the new flower bed. It’s this curved area between the front door and the back door, that we had no idea what to do with. Well, now it’s dotted with small evergreens and holly bushes of varying species. Alden’s out there watering them calling them his “babies” He’e even named the bushes… “that one’s Spiky, and this low one is Green, and here’s Pricklepine, and Bushy, and Poofy” He named them, and adopted them. He vows to come out here and water them every day. Irv really did something cool with the stone, it’s mostly red, but the ends are curved off, and finished with a the grayish-blue, it looks like waves of grey stone lapping over the red, and the back corner was rounded. The red wends a path, enhanced by the grey. It’s all very dramatic looking.
Oh, and I’m only spending so much time inside because I have a nasty sinus infection. It started as my usual September allergies, but…blegh, with all this Guam-like 85 degree 100% humidity we’re having, it quickly turned into a sinus infection. So, I’ve been laying low. Pollen murders me.
9.11.2005
9-11-01
I posted this on ACF, in response to a "where were you on 9-11-01" thread. Normally I don't talk about it, don't think about it too hard, but that thread got me writing. It was a very impactful thing in my life, many people from our town, and our area were killed and many more lost family members. We live in a huge commuter area. The area was in a state of depression for months, I remember Peter going to funerals every single week, just about, clear into January, because of all this. Most of his office was wiped out. A friend of ours was working in her high-rise office, a few miles away, with a clear view of the building, and watched the whole thing unfold, in great detail, from her desk. She had to go through therapy for over a year. I figured I'd copy this over here, just to remember. It was like the entire state went into deep mourning. No one smiled, much, people went around with a somber air. It was really remarkable. Every store, every organization had huge things setup for donations. We went to Costco 2 days later, and they had huge trailers open in the front, with guys loading stuff in. You could go into the store, with a list, and buy up needed stuff, and the guys would load it in. We donated about $300 worth of stuff, cases of water, dogfood, clean socks, batteries, nonperishable snacks and food, for the rescue workers. But, this is where I was, at that moment.
The first plane hit at 8:42, and I was tending to my son's morning routine. He was only 3, we were getting ready to go to daycare. My husband called at 8:45, and yelled for me to put on the TV, or go outside and look across the water, I did both. I ran outside to a thin column of smoke rising over the water, and watched the live coverage of the plane smacking into the building over and over, and the newscasters being like "what a horrible accident, I wonder what happened, was it an equipment failure?" Then, the second one hit, and at first, the newscasters (and everyone else, it seemed) thought it was just another replay of the first one, from another angle. Then, the truth came out, and it was the second plane, the second tower. I couldn't even go outside to look, after that, it was just TOO real. I skipped school, and Alden stayed home with me, that day.
I sat there riveted, on the corner of my bed, with Alden in my lap, just watching agape, as the whole tragedy unfolded. I had all the TVs on in the house, I just kept drifting from room to room, in this zombie like state. It hit me the hardest, though, when the buildings fell, because before that, there was hope. Rescuers were there, people were getting out, getting saved. When they fell, it was the ultimate finality. I spent time calling the people I know that worked there, Joe, the guy across the street, Pete, my stepbrother in law. As far as I knew they were trapped in there. Hell, as far as Joe's wife knew, he was. He wasn't, he happened to be working in the building across the courtyard, and they all evacuated when the plane hit, but couldn't get out of the city till much later. Pete was late for work that day, because his youngest daughter made him take her to school, so he was on a train going into work.
Friends and family from out of state called throughout the day, seeing how our area was, if anything happened to us, because we're right across the water from it. My dad was particularly worried. I remember him trying to convince me to move to Guam, heh. Nothing happened to us, obviously, but the smell, and the smoke. The air was filled with this ozone-y smelling dust for over a week afterward. I've never smelled anything like it, and I probably never will again, but it defines the "smell of death" for me. I live on a main road, going down to the beachfront, and all day, it was bumper to bumper traffic, of people filing past, to go see. It was horrible, that was the worst sight to me. It looked like the majestic NY skyline, with its front teeth busted out. There were these two pillars of HEAVY black smoke, rising from the area for a few days afterward. The weather was crisp and beautiful, with a pure blue sky, with these two black streaks, that seemingly went on for miles, marking it.
The first plane hit at 8:42, and I was tending to my son's morning routine. He was only 3, we were getting ready to go to daycare. My husband called at 8:45, and yelled for me to put on the TV, or go outside and look across the water, I did both. I ran outside to a thin column of smoke rising over the water, and watched the live coverage of the plane smacking into the building over and over, and the newscasters being like "what a horrible accident, I wonder what happened, was it an equipment failure?" Then, the second one hit, and at first, the newscasters (and everyone else, it seemed) thought it was just another replay of the first one, from another angle. Then, the truth came out, and it was the second plane, the second tower. I couldn't even go outside to look, after that, it was just TOO real. I skipped school, and Alden stayed home with me, that day.
I sat there riveted, on the corner of my bed, with Alden in my lap, just watching agape, as the whole tragedy unfolded. I had all the TVs on in the house, I just kept drifting from room to room, in this zombie like state. It hit me the hardest, though, when the buildings fell, because before that, there was hope. Rescuers were there, people were getting out, getting saved. When they fell, it was the ultimate finality. I spent time calling the people I know that worked there, Joe, the guy across the street, Pete, my stepbrother in law. As far as I knew they were trapped in there. Hell, as far as Joe's wife knew, he was. He wasn't, he happened to be working in the building across the courtyard, and they all evacuated when the plane hit, but couldn't get out of the city till much later. Pete was late for work that day, because his youngest daughter made him take her to school, so he was on a train going into work.
Friends and family from out of state called throughout the day, seeing how our area was, if anything happened to us, because we're right across the water from it. My dad was particularly worried. I remember him trying to convince me to move to Guam, heh. Nothing happened to us, obviously, but the smell, and the smoke. The air was filled with this ozone-y smelling dust for over a week afterward. I've never smelled anything like it, and I probably never will again, but it defines the "smell of death" for me. I live on a main road, going down to the beachfront, and all day, it was bumper to bumper traffic, of people filing past, to go see. It was horrible, that was the worst sight to me. It looked like the majestic NY skyline, with its front teeth busted out. There were these two pillars of HEAVY black smoke, rising from the area for a few days afterward. The weather was crisp and beautiful, with a pure blue sky, with these two black streaks, that seemingly went on for miles, marking it.
9.08.2005
I love Sinatra
There's something very cool about riding around with Sinatra blaring. "...cause I loooooove you....and the way you look...tonight" Sexy. Sexy man. So cool. The music alone drops the temperature in the car, by 20 degrees. Did it just get cooler in here? No, Sinatra just came on.
9.07.2005
More on Mom
So I was telling Irv today, about how I made my mom cry. His comment was “the asshole is not cutting her grass anymore.”
This brings me to my complaint, and this second entry. I might actually tell her this to her face, if she starts with me again. We bend over backwards to help her. We come over there to install things, fix things, move things, etc. I’ve sent Irv over there, to “move this TV upstairs for me” real quick, after work, and had him come home 3 hours later, pissed, hungry, tired, because a simple “move this here” turned out to be a “Oh, you can’t get it up the stairs? Oh yeah, that stereo cabinet is blocking the way, well that has to go upstairs as well…and while you’re up there, help me hook this TV up, to the surround sound…oh, that’s in a box downstairs, too would you go get it?” But…she watches Alden for us when we need it, and we don’t mind helping, family is good for that.
We’ve asked her a million times to stop dumping off shit at our house, toys, used clothes, just…shit. We’re not some fucking charity family that we need her to go buy garbage bags of clothes at yard sales for Alden’s school wardrobe. That’s the one thing that would greatly improve relations. I mean, we have a lot of problems getting along anyway, but that one simple thing would make life so much better. One thing. Can she do it? No. The other thing is respecting that I am my own person, and I’m capable of making my own decisions, and raising my own family, without her CONSTANT “suggestions”. This goes WAY above and beyond normal parental advice. Look how she reacted when I told her not to put the teeball thing there. Look how she responded when Irv got upset, he’s now an “asshole” getting upset. She comes here, and opens my dishwasher, then says “you’re not loading it from the back to the front, that’s all wrong” and will hound me till I either tell her to stop, or till I rearrange it. If I tell her to stop, she’d ‘fix’ it to her liking anyway. IN MY FUCKING HOUSE. She comes over and rearranges Alden’s furniture, on the sly “I’m just gonna help him put away his laundry…” We go in there, his bed is against another wall. She has taken to hiding stuff in his room, actually sneaking bags into his room of second hand garbage toys. It’s a sickness.
I got off my point. The point I was trying to make was that we ask her for two things. One, to respect that this is Lisa’s House, and Lisa has Her Own Way of doing things. And not to cover us in a deluge of crap.
In return for this, we jump at her beck and call, moving her stuff, Irv landscapes her yard, and cuts her grass every single week, he does all her gardening pretty much. We housesit for them, take them places, put up with Earl The Human Fungus, and…the thanks we get is “he’s an asshole”.
It’s very frustrating. This thought makes me even sadder: She’s my only relative on that side, and I’m her only ‘blood’ relative. She has no siblings, her cousin is in England, her parents are dead, I have no siblings (half brother, but he’s my dad’s not hers). She has Debbie, Lou, and Dianne, her stepkids, but…really it’s just she and I. In other words, I’m going to be the one taking care of her, later in life. Serious changes will have to be made, in order for that to happen.
This brings me to my complaint, and this second entry. I might actually tell her this to her face, if she starts with me again. We bend over backwards to help her. We come over there to install things, fix things, move things, etc. I’ve sent Irv over there, to “move this TV upstairs for me” real quick, after work, and had him come home 3 hours later, pissed, hungry, tired, because a simple “move this here” turned out to be a “Oh, you can’t get it up the stairs? Oh yeah, that stereo cabinet is blocking the way, well that has to go upstairs as well…and while you’re up there, help me hook this TV up, to the surround sound…oh, that’s in a box downstairs, too would you go get it?” But…she watches Alden for us when we need it, and we don’t mind helping, family is good for that.
We’ve asked her a million times to stop dumping off shit at our house, toys, used clothes, just…shit. We’re not some fucking charity family that we need her to go buy garbage bags of clothes at yard sales for Alden’s school wardrobe. That’s the one thing that would greatly improve relations. I mean, we have a lot of problems getting along anyway, but that one simple thing would make life so much better. One thing. Can she do it? No. The other thing is respecting that I am my own person, and I’m capable of making my own decisions, and raising my own family, without her CONSTANT “suggestions”. This goes WAY above and beyond normal parental advice. Look how she reacted when I told her not to put the teeball thing there. Look how she responded when Irv got upset, he’s now an “asshole” getting upset. She comes here, and opens my dishwasher, then says “you’re not loading it from the back to the front, that’s all wrong” and will hound me till I either tell her to stop, or till I rearrange it. If I tell her to stop, she’d ‘fix’ it to her liking anyway. IN MY FUCKING HOUSE. She comes over and rearranges Alden’s furniture, on the sly “I’m just gonna help him put away his laundry…” We go in there, his bed is against another wall. She has taken to hiding stuff in his room, actually sneaking bags into his room of second hand garbage toys. It’s a sickness.
I got off my point. The point I was trying to make was that we ask her for two things. One, to respect that this is Lisa’s House, and Lisa has Her Own Way of doing things. And not to cover us in a deluge of crap.
In return for this, we jump at her beck and call, moving her stuff, Irv landscapes her yard, and cuts her grass every single week, he does all her gardening pretty much. We housesit for them, take them places, put up with Earl The Human Fungus, and…the thanks we get is “he’s an asshole”.
It’s very frustrating. This thought makes me even sadder: She’s my only relative on that side, and I’m her only ‘blood’ relative. She has no siblings, her cousin is in England, her parents are dead, I have no siblings (half brother, but he’s my dad’s not hers). She has Debbie, Lou, and Dianne, her stepkids, but…really it’s just she and I. In other words, I’m going to be the one taking care of her, later in life. Serious changes will have to be made, in order for that to happen.
Which is better?
The lime green accented grey page?
Or this, all black...
This is Bloggar software, now, rather than Blogger for Word. I like them both equally I think. This has a lot of neat features, specifically for blogging. That one has the comfort of being usable from such a familiar environ. Oh decisions, decisions.
Black? Grey? BfW or Bloggar? My blog-life is in an upheaval, right now.
Or this, all black...
This is Bloggar software, now, rather than Blogger for Word. I like them both equally I think. This has a lot of neat features, specifically for blogging. That one has the comfort of being usable from such a familiar environ. Oh decisions, decisions.
Black? Grey? BfW or Bloggar? My blog-life is in an upheaval, right now.
New toy...
Oh, Glee! I just implemented “Blogger for Word” a tool that lets me blog from Word! Grammar will be good.
Only…Word doesn’t even recognize blog, or blogger, as a word, so now I have all these red underlined words. How ironic.
Let’s see which is better, this one, or the Bloggar software.
Only…Word doesn’t even recognize blog, or blogger, as a word, so now I have all these red underlined words. How ironic.
Let’s see which is better, this one, or the Bloggar software.
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