Safe!

 I know this probably sounds stupid, but sometimes I'm afraid of being too much. Of rising above the soft murmur of everyday life and openly take a stand on something - to be a leader. I feel safe as a soft-spoken follower who doesn't make waves regardless of whether I think changes need to be made or not. I think that Eve Ensler wrote something similar to this. Then I fantasize about being the tireless volunteer who fights for her convictions, and having a relationship with politicians who can actually make these come to fruition. Of stirring things up like in the '60s and '70s with the protests and marches and sit-ins. Of looking retribution in the eye and relentlessly push forward. But keeping my head low, keeping to myself, doing my own thing is safer. Besides, who has time for all that? I may have time right now, and maybe had time over the summer, but I start school in five weeks [add hint of sarcasm]. What if I really achieved that? What if I fail? Can I fail? Can little ol' me really make a difference? I was talking to a woman at that potluck who was an activist in the '70s, and she said she can't believe how complacent my generation is. Where are the leaders? Why don't people care? I gave her the usual rhetoric, that people are self-centered, caught up in their own lives, think those issues don't really affect them, etc. But what is really so different from 40 years ago? She said that someone needs to take a stand and motivate the young people. I felt like she was talking to me, and maybe she was. I wouldn't even know how to go about something like that. Could I get people to care in such an apathetic environment? Do I personally want to motivate people to care, and to do something about it? I really don't know the answer to that question.

"I wanted to be the first woman to burn her bra, but it would have taken the fire department four days to put it out." -Dolly Parton

Only the Lonely

Lately I've just been feeling so useless. I have gotten a lot of things done, but there is so much more I want to do, and the days just seem to slip away. I was ill last week, so I have that excuse...for last week. I finally checked into being an egg donor, and I don't qualify. I hoped it would be a wham, bam, thank you, ma'am and give my $5,000 tyvm, but it was too good to be true. Did you know an egg donor can't have had a tattoo done in the past year? That's not the only reason why I don't qualify. Should've known it was too good to be true. I like Fiona's rule from Burn Notice: "If something is too good to be true, you're supposed to shoot it just in case." I finally attempted to start my application for social security disability, but it said the preliminary info I sent them didn't match with their records. So, tomorrow I have to find out what that is about. There is just so much stuff that needs to be gone through and sold in this house. I daydream of what it would be like to just have the minimal in here. I often daydream of not living here at all. It's really beginning to wear on me. Carmen can be such a pain in the ass. Hovering, and smothering, and procrastinates until the very last minute. Hmm, sounds like someone I know. I almost typed "not the hovering and smothering part," but I would a lot more if I didn't restrain myself. I'm really anxious to hear what a friend thinks of our friendship that I wrote her a letter about (actually manually wrote it). But then, it may not be what I want to hear. I don't even know if she's gotten it yet. She is going through really hard times right now and has a lot on her plate, at least the last time we really talked over six months ago, so I want to give her space and just be there for her. Same with another friend. I really enjoy talking to her, but she's insanely busy, and there are times when I want to text her or email her about something, but I try to stop myself from doing it too much because I don't want to become annoying and push her away. I sent her an email that I have coupons for movie tickets, so if she has time and wants to see a movie, to let me know. I really hope she took it as that and me not trying to press her to do something, because that's what I really meant. Not to press her to do something, but what I told her - to just let me know. Yeah, I want to hang out with her, but I understand she's just not in that space right now with her work life and personal life. And then there's my "bff." I don't know what to do about her. I feel like these past months she's just trampled all over me, but then I question if I'm being too sensitive, or if I'm in the wrong. I don't think so. I talk to someone I really consider to be my best friend about 4-5 days a week, but sometimes our conversations are cut short and we can never see each other. I have a friend in Florida, but we only chat on FB and it's not exactly convenient, or even feasible, for either one of us to pick up and go see the other. I still immensely enjoy our conversations. There's my sister, but she works full time and has two young children. Enough said. I've tried to reach out to other people, but they don't always seem to be in the reaching mood. They're busy. They have other people in their life, other things going on. I get it. I feel so lonely, but I want my space at the same time. I need my space from my parents, but want to be close to someone else. Someone that I don't have to worry about being a burden on them all the time; constantly checking myself, but someone that I can also have my space from. I want a relationship, but not the commitment. I sound like a man. Someone to be with once in a while, someone I feel I can call, and I want to be there for them, but someone I don't feel obligated to. Is what I want having my cake and eating it too?

Where is the love?

I just started to bitch to my friend about the stupidity of people, but instead I decided to save her from that and rant and rave on my blog. People have the right to their own opinions and beliefs. However, those opinions can be so ignorant, short-sighted, and narrow-minded. I recently signed a FB petition to designate the Arctic Refuge as a national monument. Being a lover of nature, I think it is highly important to save as much of it as possible before it's all mowed down by big stinky machines to make way for more box houses and strip malls. My cousin ridiculed me for it because he thinks it would be a waste of resources and jobs. Is he really that selfish? Oh god, what would we do without granite countertops? I don't even know if there's granite there; I'm assuming there is, but I think you get the point. Even if we tapped into that, the tap will run dry someday - whether it's oil, or stone to make counters and floors for the rich, or timber. There's not an unlimited supply of that. Haven't people learned yet? Climate change? Oh wait, that's a scam, a bogus theory, a lie. What about the oil spill, huh? What about the 11 human lives that were lost, the countless human lives that were affected, the loss of sea life and nature? What we do to nature we also do to ourselves. Don't forget that the Louisiana wetlands lose about the area of a football field a day because of human interference. I see humans in general as disgusting, despicable creatures. There are some beautiful humans I know; beautiful physically, intelligently, and/or spiritually. Unfortunately, they don't make up for the rest of the damage humans caused. I told my cousin that every animal has as much right to be on this earth than any human. He'll probably read that and think, "Tree-huggin' hippy." That is fine by me. I'd rather be that than a short-sighted, selfish destructor of life that only sees what nature has to offer for my benefit. I don't understand how people do not care. It's that lack of caring that got us here.

Really?

I received a very hard message tonight from someone I thought was a friend, but I don't think she really is, because I don't think she would have passed on from her husband what she did pass on. That because I depend on help from the government to receive help, that I should have no say in voting. At all. "You have too much at stake." That hurt like you wouldn't know. I have too much at stake? Take a look in the mirror, honey. I don't have a house. You do. I don't have a car. You do. I don't have my own business that I rely on for my livelihood. You do! I have too much at stake. That is a great joke. So take away my meds. I'll have seizures; a lot. Take away my education that I rely on the government for because my family is poor too. I'll just keep sucking up those dshs dollars, which they won't let me suck up for a whole lot more, I don't think. And it's all because I advocated an initiative for income tax for people that make more than $200k. Maybe I sound naive, but that income tax is for education and healthcare. Maybe for other people like me. I believe when they say it's for rich people. If you make more than $200k a year, I consider you at least wealthy if not just plain rich. You don't have to worry about education costs or healthcare costs, unless you live beyond your means. A woman actually said that she wanted to keep her money because then she "could put it back into the economy." Isn't that what taxes are for??? In general, I think that we like schools. We like teachers that teach in schools; many of which have been laid off. We like police officers when we need them. We also like firefighters when we need them too. We also like to have paved streets, which some cities are turning to dirt road cuz they can't afford paved streets. So, you, the rich bitch, will put your money to more good use than that? But I see the other side. So many people in high positions use that money to line their pockets. Or they use that money to line someone else's pockets, who will line their pockets, in one way or another. So why should the lowly good-to-do citizen pay more? Maybe because we have good people on our side. Because I believe, I like to believe, that these people won't let scoundrels get away with that extra tax money. I believe that they will do what they say they will do. Patty Murray has been pretty good to Wa. So has Maria Cantwell. It saddens me more than anything - I don't have a right to vote?

Stupid Is as Stupid Does

I was watching Smoking Gun's Dumbest Criminals the other day (I highly recommend it if you want a good laugh - better than America's Funniest Videos, and yes, this guy was on it), and I've wondered for a long time why are so many criminals so dumb, and so few smart people criminals? How does having an education change that, theorizing that it does? In my psychology class, my teacher said that generally criminals have a lower IQ than the general public. Also, criminals rarely have a degree, if any college education. I'm talking about the lowly burglar who robs the 7-11 or holds up a small bank. The higher the degree, the lower the percentage of those degree holders commit crimes. So does a college education make people more moral, and if so, how? This applies not only to criminals, but people in general. Look at Glenn Beck, who I don't see as possessing high morals, who dropped out of two colleges that I know of, and Rachel Maddow, who I see as a very moral person, who became a Rhodes scholar when she was 21, and earned her doctorate. People with less education tend to be more racist, sexist, homophobic, religious, narrow-minded, bigoted in general, and (hrrmph) republican, than people with a higher education. Now, of course, I'm talking in general from what I have seen. I stuck religion in there, because, well, it's true. More people with a higher education, from what I've observed, don't believe in a god than people with a lower education. Or if they do believe in god, they realize that they have no hard evidence that one exists; that it's blind faith.

I thought of morals being taught in the home. So do all people with low morals come from bad homes, or the product of parents with low morals? For the most part, it's probably true, but I think there are many criminals that came from good homes. It also works vice-versa. There are lots of good people that come from less-than-desirable homes.

My mother fell asleep with the tv on earlier, and this religious show was on. This woman yelled out to a massive audience that she was almost 61 years old and she felt like she was 25, "and that is God's work," and the crowd roared! Yay!!! Do they really believe that crap? My grandparents believed in God, and they died from cancer. Was it because they didn't believe as hard as she does? Could it be that she takes care of herself? That she has good genes (which she would also consider the work of God)? That she is just plain lying, so that her supporters, especially ill ones, will send her money hoping that God will make them feel like 25? And you know, 25 wasn't especially great for me. But that must be because I'm a non-believer. I also didn't take very good care of myself. And there's the whole seizure thing.

Going back to education and morals, teachers/professors don't necessarily teach morals. Yet, education seems to impact them. Perhaps it's because more education can make people more open-minded. They meet people from different backgrounds and cultures whose views differ from theirs, and learn things out of their scope. It forces one to question their beliefs and analyze what they think - not just positions they always held, but also issues they didn't give much thought to before. It also happens (or should happen) in a non-threatening manner. If you tell someone their beliefs are wrong, then they'll dig their heels in deeper. If you can get them to truly question their beliefs, to explain themselves, then it makes the person more open-minded to alternatives. "Huh. Maybe that doesn't make as much sense as I thought, now that I think about it." Like duct-taping your face to use as a disguise.

We're Only Human

 What does it mean to say, "We're only human."? It's human to display inquisitive behavior. It's human to lust. It's human to have weaknesses. In colonial times and the slavery era (much of one in the same), EuroAmerican people didn't consider Africans or Native Americans as humans. They were primitive, savages, animals, that didn't belong in proper society. To admit that they were human would mean to admit that they deserved to be treated with some amount of respect and decency, and they were entitled to rights. It's much more convenient to write them off as nonhuman, don't you think? Look at how so many humans still treat animals. That reminds me of a similarity I haven't thought of before. We know what Michael Vick did to dogs. Priests at a boarding school for little Native children did something similar. They disciplined a child by making other children, their schoolmates, beat him, or they would suffer a beating themselves. The two situations differ not all that much, unfortunately. So it seems human to rule over something that can be controlled - whether it be animals, the environment, money, or other humans. Cohabitation doesn't exist. Reservations prove that. Animals lose more and more of their home as humans drive them back to make room for their homes. Cohabiting with the animals, that I believe have as much right to be here as any human does, is farcical. What if the big bad bear ate little Timmy? Well, that's only nature ( ;. Other animals face that same fear. As I tend to do, I strayed from my initial question. 

What is it to be human? Does it mean to have fingers and toes and opposable thumbs? Monkeys have those things, and not all humans do. Does it mean to have a more developed brain? That we can reach a higher level of thinking than any other species? Then why do we act so stupid? Why do we kill each other, impose our morals on others, make war with each other, destroy each other and the earth in which we need to live? Why can't we cohabit with other animals as all other animals seem to be able to do quite nicely, except when they're hungry? Native Americans did. They lived right along the deer, bears, wolves, buffalo, and all other animals. So did (and still do) all indigenous peoples. Or is it our ability to communicate? We created languages and the written word. Whales have their own language(s), as most other animals. And I've seen an elephant paint. I actually think I've seen a chimpanzee draw letters much like a kindergartener. So are they human, too? If a woman lives in a cave, eats squirrels and berries, and doesn't talk, does that make her less human than me? Less of a woman than me? Isn't "Nell" about something like that? Never did watch it, obviously. Actually, she sounds like someone out of "Deliverance." How about the human's ability to build grand edifices and mansions to live and work in? Ants and bees build abodes that most humans can barely fathom. So what makes us so much better than them?

Witchy Woman

  I just looked at a note to remind me of the conversation of two women I overheard talking. They were two white women in their 50's or 60's talking about Muslim women and their burkas. They felt that they shouldn't be allowed to wear their burka in the United States, because, "you just don't know who could be under there." Really, people? Really? Whatever happened to the land of the free? Not that everyone has ever been really free here - the reservations the Natives were segregated to and all the rights taken away, the slaves that were imported from Africa, internment camps for the Japanese, and now the sex slave industry. I just watched a new Law & Order: SVU episode about poor children sent to work on farms and being sold into slavery. As the immigration of illegal immigrants decreases, farmers need to find cheap work somewhere. But I digress. It was hard to keep my mouth shut as I listened to these ignorant women feeling it appropriate for them, the government, to intervene with religious rights that brings no harm to anyone else, but I highly doubt it would've mattered if I said anything or not. As if one of "those people" could be Osama bin Laden hiding under a blanket right in plain view. That brings up another point, this ideology of "us" vs. "them." I thought Obama exclaimed quite eloquently and passionately that there is no "us and them," there is only "us." It's only too obvious to state that as long as the "us and them" ideology persists, then we can't come together to banish the "them" part. Unfortunately, a "them" has always existed. "Us" are scared of the "them" because of real differences, and differences they perceive. Muslim women wear burkas. Christian women don't. That is a difference you can see, but they're both religious women. People have all different colors of skin, but the DNA is almost the same - we're all the same underneath. I think of "Imagine," the best song ever written (in my humble opinion): "Imagine there's no countries. It isn't hard to do. Nothing to kill or die for, and no religion too. Imagine all the people living life in peace."

Horse and Carriage

Lake Quinault, one of my favorite places

From the encouragement of a friend, I decided to finally start writing in my blog again. I took such a long sabbatical on account of school, and other pressing matters, but mostly school. I've been writing a theory paper for what seems like a year for a women's studies class. I picked the subject of the impact of Eurocentric capitalist patriarchy on the Native American woman. Interesting, yes. Theoretical, not so much. But I was too stubborn to pick another topic (a taurus thru and thru), and wanted to write on a topic close to my heart. I liked it because it is challenging, and a topic I doubted other students would write about. At least in my class. Even as I attempt to free-write now, I come to an impasse about what specifically my theory is, which was rather stupid of me to try to write a theory paper without knowing what my theory is; just a vague subject. My teacher tried to warn me more than once, but I obviously didn't heed them; determined to write about this matter - that I could do it.

Over these last months, I reflected on my conceptions of marriage and motherhood in relation to the patriarchal ideologies of these matters. I decided that I don't want to marry anyone (except maybe myself) or have children (of my own at least). Maybe I stated this in a previous post. I even want to sell my eggs if i can. That brings in quite a few bucks. Yes, I think the world is overpopulated as it is, but if there's a woman out there that really wants a baby and she's infertile, and I can help, it would make me happy to make that dream a reality for her. And also for the money. Marriage is only to support patriarchy. Or was I should say. I think many marriages enjoy an egalitarian relationship. However, it was instituted in the name of patriarchy, that women must be taken care of. It ensured her a future of domesticity while the man went out to earn the money and had other opportunities. He had a sense of the world. That made her totally dependent on him. I feel like I would be doing what I'm supposed to do, which the rebellious side of me pushes back against. I wouldn't be opposed to marriage if I fell in love with someone and wanted to commit myself to that person for the rest of my life. But again, I have my convictions of marriage. I'm more happy to hear about divorces than marriages. I know far more many that haven't worked out than had. However, I don't hold any contempt for people who do get married or want to get married. Right now, I don't feel that I need it to show, or prove, my love with a marriage to anyone. It just seems that not long ago I wanted what many young women want, a heterosexual marriage and children. Not anymore. When I said I didn't want children of my own, it's because I may want to be a foster parent, if I have the strength, conviction, and money (and energy). I wish I could start with children in my own family. Little Sarah, Stephen, Fransheila, and Frances - Allien's kids. My worthless cousin in Alaska whose own mother told my family that she's a drug addict, and I think she sells as well. She's been to jail a few times. Stephen's father has custody of him, but my uncle thinks that he hits him and neglects him, such as not feeding him enough, or at all. If I had the means, then I know those babies would get a good education, good healthcare, love, attention, support, and encouragement with me. Sarah (9) and Stephen (7 or 8) aren't exactly babies, but they still are. Fransheila is only 18 mos. and Frances is a little baby. From the brief time I spent with Sarah, she's shown much more maturity, sense of responsibility, compassion, and thoughtfulness that would never dawn on her mother. And she knows her mother, how she is. She's also smart as a whip. I don't know why a whip is smart, but that's how the saying goes. She's always excelled in school. I want her to realize her full potential and have opportunities. I also want her away from her mother, in fear that in a few years she will start down that path, as Allien went down her mother's path. I don't need to have my own children when so many out there need a compassionate loving guardian who's not afraid to show tough love. That's what scares me about being a foster parent. I want to work with teenagers; the ones who need the most help. The ones that have been shipped from home to home with no sense of security and trust. The jaded ones. I want to be that person they can learn to trust and have a permanent home with me. That I'll be there for them when they do stupid shit, which is almost inevitable, and not ship them away again. But then I can't trust them myself. At least not in the beginning. I'd be afraid of them stealing my grandmother's wedding ring to pawn for drugs. My older cousin, Stephen, was in numerous foster homes where he was abused until he was 12 and landed himself in juvie, and hadn't really been out since. He's about 30 now. I haven't seen him in years. I keep promising myself that I will find him, a promise so far I've failed to keep. I always have so much to do. That's an excuse, not a reason. I want him to know that not all of his family gave up on him. Fred, his step-father who adopted him, my mother's brother, died 5 yrs ago, and that's all Steve had. Fred had nothing to do with him being in foster homes, and horrors his mother put him through. Fred loved him.

Next topic, I said I'd marry myself. Of course I want my dream wedding. But it would be my wedding with my friends where I want to have it (Lake Quinault). No wonder women so much look forward to their wedding day. A big party for you (and the person you're marrying), with a new dress, new jewelry (not from the street fair), and a nice trip afterwards! One on hand, marrying myself is still marrying, even though it isn't the conventional marriage. On the other hand, I see it as committing to yourself what you commit to your partner - to always be there for yourself, through sickness and in health. As I said before, you are the only person you can really count on when it comes to it. You can't count on other people, no matter how much you love them and think they love you. Christina, my "best friend," married earlier this month. Her cousin married the month before. This past Sunday I visited my friend in the hospital who was preparing for the birth of her 2nd child. I, being the only non-mother, sat for a few hours in the room listening to her, her sister-in-law, mother-in-law, her aunt, and her mother talk about pregnancy, labor, delivery, and the first precious few years of motherhood. But of course, they were awaiting the arrival of the newest family member. One on hand, I wished I had something to share, but none were my experiences. I did briefly talk about my own birth, from what I've been told. At times like these I wonder if I'm missing out. Or is it upbringing and society that enforces this ideal of motherhood that women fall into? I think it's a choice to marry more than it ever has been, however I think it's still encouraged by media and society itself. I also think that it is natural - apart from societal influence - to want a baby. Instinct maybe? To want to procreate, when you get down to our animalistic attributes. The females in any species I know of share that same goal, for the survival of their species, whether this enters into a woman's mind or not. I've actually contemplated having a child with a full blood Native to do my part in raising the Native population. But that would be the only reason. S/he would at least be 3/4 Native. Did you know that in 2008, Natives represented 1.5% of the total population in the US? I'd like to help with that. I also think it's natural for people to not want children. Actually, that also happens in the wild kingdom, or the zoo kingdom - of mothers abandoning their young. So, obviously, we're not all different from them.

Whine, whine. Bitch, bitch.

It's midnight and I don't feel much like sleeping or much like studying. Two things I need to do. All these thoughts keep racing through my head. I have conversations in my head. I tried reading this article and kept reading the first two lines over and over, until I gave up and just let my mind wander. Sometimes I think I have ADD. I try to refrain from writing in my blog until I feel I don't have anything more important or pressing to do, but when you're in school, that never happens. I'm already behind in my reading for sociology and women studies, and it's only the second week. Maybe I'm just not cut out for school. I told my teacher that if I can't get enough money from scholarships to live on my own, I will probably quit school and get a job. I really don't want to, but I can't live here anymore. Carmen drives me batty. Why doesn't she get anything done? Probably the same reasons why I don't get some things done. I make it a bigger deal than it is, I don't want to do it, so I resort to doing nothing but obsess about it. Or I get so busy with other things that need to be taken care of now, that I don't get to it in a more timely manner. But I actually am pretty good about getting stuff done. She never seems to get anything done. It took her 4 or 5 days to do the bills; something that shouldn't take more than half an hour. Then she ended up having to spend 4 times the amount of time doing them because she had to call all the places she was sending bills to to tell them their check would be late, spending lord knows how much time on hold with each call. And then there's the den. WTF? It's been a fucking disaster area with the same shit for over a year since I moved in, and god knows how long before that. And the cats shit in the corners that we can't reach because there's too much shit in the way. I realized the other day that I would be so fucked if she were to get hit by a train tomorrow. I know I've talked about this before with all the shit in the house, but then there's all the stuff that comes with death. I don't know if she has a living will, which I highly doubt she does. I'd think she'd tell me about it. She doesn't have a will period. I know that. Her paperwork is in such a mess (despite the countless hours she spends on it), that I wouldn't know where to begin to call credit cards and whatnot. I don't know what will happen to the house when she dies since it's on a reverse mortgage. I don't think the lender automatically takes it like they used to, but I'm not sure if I can stay in it (if I were still living here), what my dad would do, what I will have to do. Do I have to sell right away? Assuming I can still sell? And what will happen to the money from the sale? I know these are questions I need to ask my mother or the loan officer, but I never feel like I can ask her because she's either doing paperwork, running errands, or she's sick. There are always other things that have to be taken care of right now. Like her goddamn cats. Again, WTF? She knew for months they needed to be fixed at the end of January. It's now the beginning of April, and do you think they're fixed yet? She retaliated that she wasn't able to do anything for a few weeks because of her mother's death, but Gramma died 3 weeks after they should've been fixed! Pearl is finally starting to settle down after being in heat for over a week. Good god! Have you ever been around a cat in heat? It's torture for her and you. I would tell mom to make a to do list, but she'd lose it (the list, not her temper; well maybe her temper too). It's like living with a little child. She and dad started drinking a lot, but I noticed the past couple days that I don't think they've had anything, which makes me feel better. I know it's only two days, but at least it's not constant now. For a while it seemed like every time I saw my mother, she had a glass of wine in her hand. Then she really acts like a child. Whines, throws temper tantrums, pouts, slams doors. And my dad was drinking a lot. I just hope they don't get back into that. Why have children when I have parents?

Death Becomes Her

Gramma died over two weeks ago on February 17th. A nurse from Richmond Beach Rehab called on the 14th to tell us that she could hardly breathe and she sounded very frightened. She was trying to contact the doctor on call, who, of course, was unreachable. Mom told her to call the paramedics and we left to see Gramma. When we walked in the door, a fire medic had her leaning forward as she was gasping for air. Her eyes were wide and vacant. They stabilized her the best they could while we waited for an actual ambulance to take her to Northwest Hospital. After about half an hour after he saw Gramma, the doctor said flat out, "I don't expect her to make it through the night." It looked like I was going to lose another grandparent around (or in this case, on) a holiday. She had acute pneumonia. The doctor (or the nurse) said there was no reason why she should've gotten so sick, and the hospital was going to submit a complaint about Richmond Beach. I called my cousin and my mom's best friend who came down. The ER doctor admitted her into Comfort Care. We stayed with her for about 4-5 hours until 12:30 am when we decided to go home to try to get some sleep. They said they'd call if she became worse.

We were back at the hospital around 4:30 am. Luckily the 15th was a holiday so I didn't have class. We just stayed with her and watched. My cousin and mom's friend came by Monday. My mother had to decide what to do with the body when Gramma did die. Normally social workers help with that, but they don't work on holidays. I was mad at her because I thought this is something you were supposed to have planned out ahead of time - what you're going to do with the body. But, maybe most people don't know what crematory they're going to send their loved one's body to, or where you want to send it if the body will be embalmed. My mother went with Neptune. That's probably where I'll send her. I went home by myself Monday afternoon after my cousin arrived and stayed home for about 12 hours. I didn't realize I was gone so long.

I returned to the hospital around 5:30 Tuesday morning. There was a cot and a recliner in the room. The night nurse brought them in for my parents to rest on. A chaplain, or a bereavement counselor, came by later in the morning. Before, mom said that Gramma wanted to start going to church again, and that she did a few times go to this church in Richmond Beach. Maybe they take religious folk there. I was surprised. Gramma was never the religious type. But I suppose when you know you're not far from death and maybe afraid of the unknown, you want to reach out to something to comfort you. Mom told this to the chaplain who thought that we should all put a hand on Gramma and recite the lord's prayer. At this time I was writing Gramma's obituary. Is it wrong to write someone's obituary before they're dead, but you know they will be soon? Like in a matter of hours? I didn't partake in this event. It weirded me out and I wished I had my pentacle to rebel against their Christian religion. Even though much of Christianity is based on Paganism. The chaplain kept trying to get me to open up, but I denied her. I didn't want to talk to some stranger who doesn't know me or my grandmother from Adam. She was wearing a Tree of Life pendant with the branches in a Celtic knot, which I appreciated. She said it was more open to people than if she wore a cross. I can't think of any people I know who would be against the Tree of Life, or hold it in contempt. I said something about the Tree of Life being Pagan, which she stared at me blankly, and then I said something about the Celtic knot, which she immediately jumped on, "Yes! Celtic!" God forbid she wore a Pagan symbol (pun intended).

My parents would leave for a little while to have a cigarette or get something to eat, or get coffee. One of these times when I was with Gramma alone I told her to have a good trip, and to say hi to everyone for me. I started naming the people I know who have passed away, and it seemed like so many. Later, I wrote down the names of all the people who died, and I wrote down 37 names. I told G if she sees Janis Joplin, to tell her I said she rocks. I don't really believe in heaven, or hell. At least the fiery wasteland where all the bad souls are banished to for eternity to rot in torture and pain. Hell on Earth I believe. As day turned into night, I stayed up and read (not very much) and watched. My parents slept for a long time. They had only been home for barely over three hours since we arrived at the hospital about 7:30 Sunday evening. It was now Tuesday night. My dad did go home long enough to shower and change while my mom slept.

I slept for a little while. Well, rested my eyes more like. As long as I could hear Gramma breathing I let my heavy eyelids rest. As soon as I couldn't hear her breathing anymore, I'd look over at her to see if I could see her chest move up and down. I wasn't even aware I was still awake until I couldn't hear her breathe. Carmen slept heavy. She could only sleep if I was there because she knew I'd be watching. She'd be too afraid that Dad would fall into a heavy sleep. Before Gramma went into a home three years ago, I stayed the night one time and stayed up all night with her. Mom wouldn't sleep for 4-5 days at that time because Gramma kept her up all hours of the night. But that night, while Gramma was calling for me all night, my mom slept soundly where normally she'd wake with start at hearing Gramma's voice.

It's really fascinating, and haunting, to watch someone go through that dying process where they transform from their regular self into a phantom of who they were. In the wee hours of Wednesday morning I sat and watched Gramma slowly breathe. She was kept on a nice dosage of morphine the entire time to keep her comfortable; hence "comfort care." I don't know if dying is painful, or if it was her sciatica, but she was in pain. We could hear her moaning sometimes, and the nurse would give her more morphine. As she got closer to death, she started having sleep apnea. By this time I was used to her not breathing for even five minutes. I noticed that in her last few hours, she actually smelled like death. I never smelled it before. It wasn't pungent. It just sort of loomed in the room. At around 4:30 am she stopped breathing again. My parents were both asleep. I looked at her; looked for any signs of life. I waited for about ten minutes. I tried to quietly stand up, but the chair creaked a lot, which woke mom up. She looked at me with wide eyes out of her sleep. I told her I thought Gramma passed away. We looked at her for another couple minutes. I went and got Lynn, the nurse. She listened to Gramma's heart for a few minutes, then looked at us and shook her head. Mom let out a burst of grief and cradled Gramma's head. Dad and I just stood and watched. The three of us went out for a cigarette while they cleaned Gramma up. When we walked back in, mom asked if I wanted a few minutes alone with her, which I acquiesced to. I wanted to see if she smelled like death. I know it's weird. I just didn't want to forget it. They used some sort of cleanser on her so she smelled sweet and clean. I don't quite remember what death smells like anymore. There's nothing to compare it too. It's not like walking by roadkill, that smells rotten. But it is a smell of rot, and musty. A different kind of rot.

Death isn't like anything you see in the movies or on tv. She didn't look peaceful. She looked dead. There was no shudder or sound when her last breath escaped her lips, which only I saw. She just stopped. I didn't see Death lurk nearby, or see some sort of unexplainable shadow in the room. An unexplainable breeze didn't blow through the room. A glowing orb didn't leave her body. People have to concoct such things to make them feel better. Death seems so...finite. You don't want to believe it's the end. That that's all there is. I asked a friend, "Why do people always turn to religion when it comes to death?" Without missing a beat she responded, "Because they're scared shitless." When I looked at Gramma's corpse, there was nothing left. Her eyes were half open and her mouth slightly gaping. Just an empty vessel. Do I really believe that her soul went on, or anyone's soul, to a better place? To a heaven? No. I believe in ghosts though, which seems contradictory. But that's beside the point. If believing in heaven, or something of the sort, makes you feel better, then by all means believe away. I won't refute you. Doesn't hurt anyone. Just don't count on it when death becomes you.

The Jesus Christ Scam

I've been rolling this proposition around in my mind about the whole Jesus thing and Christianity. Ok, so if we look at Christianity, it's worshipping a (male) god who raped a 14 year old girl. So you have a god who's a child rapist. That's just disturbing by itself. And don't give me this "God works in mysterious ways." You know what works in mysterious ways? My digestive system. So, I got to thinking about Joe and Mary. So here they are, these two vagabonds, the girl's about to pop, they have no money, no food, and are homeless. At that time, a bunch of whackjobs were running around claiming that they were the messiah, so Joe and Mary thought, "Hey! We'll say that our kid is the messiah!" And this guy, Tom, believed them, so they became famous and received a bounty of gifts. Either that or he received a percentage of the proceeds. And thus the birth of a hugely popular religion that's based on other, older religions, Greek philosophy and mythology, and blind faith. More to come later....(I always thought Jesus had Joe's eyes)

Messed Up

Today is my mother's birthday. My parents and I went out to dinner. She told us about starting a company...again...for making her wreaths. She met a woman today who markets for people and teaches them how to market themselves. I just couldn't be happy and excited for her. Neither could dad. She's talked about it for years and never even tried. She said that she has to buy more things for this season, because all the stuff she has is mainly for Christmas. We both find it impossible to believe that she doesn't have anything that she can use in her wreaths that's not Christmas. It's just spending more money and bringing more stuff into the house. There's so much that needs to be done at the house, that we both feel she needs to concentrate on that. It's not like it will happen. It's been like this for the past few years. Because we didn't show our enthusiasm for her like she hoped, she turned sour, like old milk. She said some very mean things to dad and me. I went out to have a cigarette, and when I came back in she said, "I'm sorry that you were born....." Whoa. She let me know that I hurt her feelings, but that seems extreme. Then she continued, "to this man as your father...." Ok, mom, tell us what you really think. Then she carried on, "and me as your mother." She got back into what dear Queenie told her about what I said. I could just slap right her right now. Queenie was trying to open the flow of communication. She opened a can of old, rotten, putrid worms. First Carmen said she was going to kill herself. Then she was going to California. She called her best friend to come pick her up, but she wasn't exactly in the mood to get out of bed and drive half an hour to have her spend the night at her house. Carmen said she'd probably be gone in the morning. She's going to go someplace where she's wanted. Where she's loved. She told me that she's going to tell me all the horrible things my father did and what a horrible man he is. That he's only told me lies about her. I don't care if it's your birthday or not. What kind of fucked up things are those to say to your daughter??? She told me one thing, that she told me when I was probably 13. I knew he cheated on her when I was 11. Maybe younger. She told me when I was about 13 how controlling he was and he isolated her from all of her friends. Now she's slamming the door...a few times. If she didn't act like she was 4, then maybe dad and I wouldn't treat her like she was 4. What she could use is a good whoopin'. Or maybe that's just what I'd like to do to her. Lord knows she was abused enough as a child. Dad told me that when she gets into these funks and "oh, poor me" that one time her cousin who lived with her when they were kids said, "I was abused too. I lived in the same house you did." In other words, LET IT GO! Get over it! It took me a long time, years, to get over some of the things that carmen said to me, but I think that I'm finally over it, and have let it go. It sucked, and it was hurtful, and it took a long fucking time, but I think I'm finally over it now. It happened. That's all there is to it. Dwelling on the past doesn't allow you to move forward. I know that.

Rainbows

It's been nearly three weeks since my last entry; an unprecedented length of time. A lot has been going on, and nothing has been going on. Just busy with the usual humdrum life. I also haven't felt much like writing. My blog turned into more of a diary than my original intention, not that it matters much. I think there are only two people who read this.

I thought of different topics, or theses, for an English paper on Mrs. Dalloway. I didn't realize the intricate detail that Woolf wove into this novel, which makes it not just a good read, but a work of genius. A book I want to read again, when I have the time. She involves many different kinds of relationships between a husband and wife, and a couple about to get married. I'm not sure if any of it reflects her own marriage, but it's a distinct possibility. One of her characters commits suicide because of PTSD from the war, which his wife had difficulty dealing with, and she commits suicide 16 years after the book is published because of mental problems and she didn't want to be a burden on her husband. We always think we know what's best.

I am happy to say that this is my first entry on my new computer. I decided to splurge and buy a macbook. So far I love it, but I've had it for less than a week. It was worth it.

I still haven't spoken to my friend. Another friend suggested that I ask her out to coffee so we can talk, but I honestly don't know what to say to her. She's waiting for me to "heal," which will take a long time to happen, if it does, but I don't want to lose her friendship. When I don't hear from or lose so many friends, I wonder if it has something to do with me. One relationship obviously had to do with me. The others....I think people get busy, but if they really care, can't they afford a 5 min. call, or send a quick email? But then we get so caught up in our daily lives that we forget or think we'll do it later. I was going to see my gramma and call my aunt today, but I failed to do both of those. I was working on homework. It's not as important as them though. But it won't affect my grade if I don't see or talk to them. There's tomorrow, right?

The other day on my walk I saw a beautiful rainbow. I kept it in sight as long as possible. The end didn't look too far from my house, and I was tempted to see find it, but knew I wouldn't. It was probably 3 miles away anyway. When there's a rainbow reaching across the sky, or a beautiful sunrise or sunset, I don't understand how people don't just stop and stare - why there aren't more wrecks because people are gazing at something pure and beautiful and not paying attention to what they're doing. I didn't stop because I didn't want to be seen as weird or creepy, just standing there looking at a sunrise or the rainbow. It's one of those things that make me feel present in life. Not just my life, but life in general. I feel the here and now. How often do we get to do that?

"Watch the sun as we go by, throwin' colors off the water sky, thinkin' about the rainbows in my baby's eyes." Country Joe and The Fish

Explode

I think I'm going to explode. That picture of the mushroom cloud is me. My mother is infuriating. I think she and dad will leave to see Gramma as soon as I get home, but not so. Dad hooked up a 7" portable tv that Carmen got for "us" for Christmas and she was watching some infomercial, looking up more things to buy on the computer, and ads were spread all over. I was sitting watching Golden Girls, waiting for them to leave so I can watch old shows of Rachel and Keith, and she wants to watch QVC for Elvis crap because it's his birthday. I can't watch Rachel and Keith when they're here, because I get a bunch of whining like little spoiled children, "I don't want to watch old news! I want to watch Cold Case. I want to watch current news." I explained to them again and again that I like to watch the old news because then I know how we got to where we are. I could watch the new news, but have no idea how we got there or what's really going on. I also told them there wouldn't be so many old episodes if they would just let me watch the old ones so I can get caught up. Carmen is always watching tv, except when she's sleeping, so it's not like I get a lot of time to watch what I want; especially with school and homework. I told her she has enough crap as it is. We need an oven that works, but she buys an electric fireplace to make the living room "cozy." We need a dishwasher, but she buys a 7" tv that aint worth shit. Not that the tv cost nearly as much as a dishwasher, but that money could've, should've, gone towards a dishwasher! I told her I didn't want her to get me an iPhone because I want that money to go towards an iBook, but instead she gets me this large external hardrive that needs a cord to hook it up so I can back up my stuff on my computer when I get it. That'll be really convenient when I'm at school or a cafe. I sound like I'm on my high horse, but I want something practical and that's also essential, and good quality that hopefully I can use until I'm 35. I told her I rather she send it back and use the money for the computer, but she decides she wants to keep it for herself because she wants to do photography on the computer. Thanks for the Christmas present, mom. She also got me a shirt I don't like and a sweater that's way too big that I really do like, but I don't believe she's sent it back to LL Bean yet, and dad got me pajamas that are way too big. I know I'm fat, but come on guys. She said there's another present for me, but apparently dad hasn't wrapped it yet so they haven't given it to me. There is so much crap in this house you can barely walk through it, but she sits around all day watching QVC and Law & Order and does "paperwork." Honestly, how much time does it take to do paperwork, because I find it pretty fucking hard to believe that it takes all day every day, except when she has to run errands. She wishes I was a better daughter, but I wish to god, oh wait, i don't believe in god, well, i just wish she was a better mother. Set a fucking example! I shouldn't be the one having to tell her that she doesn't need to buy more stuff and to not drink too much and spend time with her mother! or better yet, dead. If i could sell 98% of what this house holds, then sell the house, then buy a nice little condo, that would be sweet. I don't understand daughters that are close to their mothers.

On a happier note, there was no homework due in Spanish today! So I asked my teacher to show me where the audio is that accompanies the lab book. I also had a massage today. Well, back to cleaning. I just had to get that out. Next week I want to see Vagina Monologues at my school. That should be fun. I always wanted to go to a show. I hope my teacher will go so maybe we can sit together, but I can sit by myself.

3 a.m.

I woke up an hour ago and made another attempt at my Spanish homework, but didn't get any farther than I did the last time - nowhere. I'm tired, but don't feel much like sleeping. This is not a "woe is me, I can't sleep." I woke up thinking about my best friend and her wedding. She says the title doesn't mean anything, but it does to me. I decided to tell her that I was really hurt, but that it's her wedding and she can do what she wants. I didn't say it out of malice or to incite guilt. I said it to tell her how I really feel and that I'm just going to need time. I'm not trying to make it any more stressful. Again, I don't feel sorry for myself. I'm just hurt. They are two different things, right? I used to feel sorry for myself a lot when I was younger, but don't want to do that anymore, so it's important to me to not feel sorry for myself.

I saw Gramma today. When she saw me her eyes got really big and she opened her arms. This was not one of her good days. I don't know if she'll have anymore good days. She was very scared and paranoid.

In a small, scared voice she exclaimed, "They're after me!"

"Who's after you?"

"I don't know. They're from California."

"Why would they be after you?"

"They don't like me."

"Gramma, I don't know anyone on this earth who doesn't like you. No one is after you."

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"I don't believe you."

"Gramma, no one is after you."

"Thank you."

She kept calling for Tony, one of the guys who works there. They sort of adopted each other as grandson and grandmother, since his is in Central America I believe and he misses her. But then Gramma started talking about them getting married, so he stopped coming to see her. I don't know if we should ask him to see her or not. She asks for him all the time and she hasn't talked about marriage, but maybe it still wouldn't be a good idea. He may be too uncomfortable being around her, which I couldn't blame him. She had a few bites of dinner and didn't want anymore, but the nurses kept insisting that she eat. I don't want my grandmother to die from malnutrition, but I don't want to force feed her either. She'll be 91 in March for god sake, and is going down hill. I'm not saying that it doesn't matter, but it's not like they're really extending her life by force feeding her. I wouldn't eat that stuff either. They constantly give her this pea soup that I wouldn't feed to a dog, and give her things she has a hard time eating, like a sandwich. They fed her ice cream. As she protested she didn't want any, they would shove a spoonful in her mouth. I didn't like that, but I suppose it's important that she eats something. She finally gave up and obediently opened her mouth for them and me. But when she didn't want anymore, I didn't make her.

I want to switch out of my Spanish class. It's frustrating. First I had a hell of a time writing my resolutions in Spanish. Partly because I didn't have any, except to lose some weight, as I mentioned. Then I thought, "Ok. This isn't so bad. I think I can do this." Then I tried to do my homework due tomorrow, which you already know I didn't get very far. I have to listen to the audio that accompanies the lab manual, but when I listened to it and looked at the manual, it made no sense at all. I tried to find other audios on the website, but there wasn't anything else. This is what I get for waiting until the night before it's due. I had such good intentions that I would get it done on Wednesday, but that obviously didn't work out.

"I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." ~Douglas Adams

First Day

So, I sit in front of my computer, procrastinating homework. It was a fairly good first day. I tried to get out of my Spanish class, but it's a requirement, which I don't agree with. It should be a choice to take a second language class. I need to write a paragraph on my "aspiraciones" for the new year. Quiero perder 50 libras - I want to lose 50 pounds. I had to look up lose and pounds.

I talked to Diego about Christina. He said to be the bigger person and not get all immature. That's kind of hard when she's 6' and I'm 5'3". I think he thinks I should let it go, but he can understand that I'm hurt. Very hurt. I don't know what to do about it. Am I making too big of a deal out of it? Should I let it go and tell her that I will still help her despite that I'm not the maid of honor, even if I really don't want to and feel betrayed? Should I feel betrayed? I know it's her wedding, and she can have whomever she wants to be her MOH. She talked about possibly having two maids of honor, even though I think that's stupid. What if she asks me to be her second MOH? I know it sounds immature, but I really don't want to be #2. I want to be #1, dammit!

I look around my room, and wonder, "How did I end up like this?"

2010 sucks

So this evening I was at my "best" friend's fiance's birthday party. Most of the people were gone, and my friend, her parents, and my parents were sitting together. My friend tells me how much she appreciated my help with the parties and the wedding, and she really needs me, and then she told me she wants her cousin to be her maid-of-honor. For the past five or six months, I believed I was going to be the MOH. She's my best friend. I'm her best friend. I always believed that she would be my MOH and I would be hers, and she would be the godmother of my children and I would be the godmother of hers....things that best friends do. And she still wants me to help her with the wedding. Fuck that. Her cousin lives in Tacoma, about an hour away, so they can't get together all the time to go to wedding expos, pick out invitations, she told me a week ago she wanted me to pick out the bridesmaids dresses. A maid-of-honor is the one who does everything for the bride - plans the bridal shower, bachelorette party, takes care of things that the bride doesn't have to deal with....she told me that it was because her cousin is family. What does that have to do with anything? She told me that she doesn't get to see Sally very much, which I already knew of course, but when they see each other they have a really good time, or some BS like that. And like I said, she still needs my help with the wedding because Sally doesn't know anyone or know Edmonds. She's fucking dreaming. She, my best friend, tells me after five months that she doesn't want me to be her maid-of-honor, but still wants me to do everything that a MOH does? That's Sally's job now. Christina said the title didn't come with any attachments and that we're all equal. Bullshit. I had her fucking wedding planned within a week after she told me in July that she and Jeremy were getting married. Actually more like a day. It took about a week for me to see one of the venues, but I called a lot of others, and caterers, and looked at wedding dresses and bridesmaid dresses online for her, because I knew what she wanted more than she did, which she fully admitted. At the time she didn't know (and I still don't know if she does) what an A-line dress is, or empire, or princess cut. I also looked at rings to suggest to her fiance. And now she's dumping me for her cousin she hardly sees?

And tomorrow I go back to school. I'm a little excited, but mostly not looking forward to it. Where did the past three weeks go? I said at the beginning that I wouldn't get done nearly what I wanted to, and I didn't! I used to set these incredible goals of what I would accomplish during a break, whether a weekend or a few weeks, and never seem to quite get it done. I did get quite a few things done, but not nearly all I wanted to, and I knew I wouldn't. I've been so tired since New Year's. Friday I didn't move from the recliner, recovering from my hangover, yesterday I was still exhausted and actually slept most of the day, and today I was still tired but was able to at least get up. I wished I was more like Christina. No matter how tired she is, how sick she is, how little sleep she got, she still gets up and does what she has to do. In high school when she would come to school on her death bed, I told her that no one really wanted her there so sick, and she needed to give her body a chance to get better, but she was determined that she was going to school. Crazy bitch.

For the last week my gramma's been going downhill. The nurse told mom that she's shutting down, but we don't know how long that will take. From the sound of her condition, I didn't know if she would even make it to new year's. Yesterday my parents saw her, and she told them that she's really depressed and wanted to commit suicide. She wanted to throw her body against the glass window and bleed to death. We saw her again today. She said she wasn't feeling as depressed. She was coherent, but extremely tired. She couldn't keep her eyes open. Her sciatica was causing her a lot of pain. She was actually crying out in pain. The nurse withheld her gabbapentin for the last three days because it makes her more tired than she already is. So it's better that she's concious and in unbearable pain? I wanted to say something, but held my tongue and didn't get involved. While we were there she gave Gramma her medication. She did suggest that we take Gramma to her doctor before she started living at the nursing home, because the house doctor never sees the patients. He just looks at the charts and gives orders based on that. I believe he goes in a couple hours a week. It's pathetic.

"It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend." ~William Blake