I had to sit down. I was fighting back the tears, and losing the battle. Elisabeth says stuff like this all the time, so I've gotten used to it and what she needs during those times. Rebeckah, on the other hand, rarely says anything like that unless she is copying her sister, and even then usually says it in a sing-song kind of voice. She's not being emotional, she's being a mimic.

This time was different. I know I'm going to be unable to describe the look on her face, so I'm not even going to try. I just know that this time she said it from her heart. My little Destructo-baby, more trouble than a whole pack of boys, and more energy than that annoying bunny, was subdued, and sad, and completely serious. It broke my heart. I had hoped that because of her age, and her behavior up to this point, that it wasn't really affecting her too much. I think I was wrong.

Elisabeth looked up at me and asked "Mommy, do wishes always come true?" I answered her with the tears streaming down my face, "No, sweetheart, sometimes they don't."

We left the fountain, walked to the car, got in, and drove away. I was still doing my best to hold myself together until I got back to the safety and privacy of our house. It was difficult, though, because the whole way home I kept answering Rebeckah, silently, over and over in my head, "Me too, baby. Me too."

About 4 I got a message form my my BIL sayin that he did not need a ride home home because he has some SSE stuff to work on. Then I get a message form my sister and she said that she did not need a ride home that he husband was there to get her... No I dont mind if they spend time but what buged me was that he lied to me about it like I am a kid that would be upset that I am not taken them home... I am just hurt about it all...

Then I remember that my husband is going to a movie with Tim, I am happy that they are going to go and that Andy has found someone that he is happy to hang out with and he has found someone that has the same values as we do.... but I am left home alone... I know that I sound like a baby but yea today is not the best day...

I am just depressed and I am not doing very good. . .

Closed off from love
I didn’t need the pain
Once or twice was enough
And it was all in vain
Time starts to pass
Before you know it you’re frozen

But something happened
For the very first time with you
My heart melts into the ground
Found something true
And everyone’s looking round
Thinking I’m going crazy

But I don’t care what they say
I’m in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don’t know the truth
My heart’s crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open

Trying hard not to hear
But they talk so loud
Their piercing sounds fill my ears
Try to fill me with doubt
Yet I know that the goal
Is to keep me from falling

But nothing’s greater
Than the rush that comes with your embrace
And in this world of loneliness
I see your face
Yet everyone around me
Thinks that I’m going crazy, maybe, maybe

But I don’t care what they say
I’m in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don’t know the truth
My heart’s crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing
You cut me open and I….

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open

And it’s draining all of me
Oh they find it hard to believe
I’ll be wearing these scars
For everyone to see

I don’t care what they say
I’m in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don’t know the truth
My heart’s crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing
You cut me open and I….

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love

i can't stand it anymore. he loves me, he comes over, and yet, he's taking me for granted??? yeah...how does that work??!?! it sounds weird, and don't take MY word for it; i might be crazy...but i feel underappreciated. at first i didn't at all. i felt good and loved and wanted and i felt that i was in a good place where i actually belonged.
but then...little by little...week by week, i felt lonlier, i cried more, i waited more, i hoped more, and expected more until i got nothing at all. he disappoints me almost every day now. and the sad part is that i WANT to be used to it because i promised him and myself that i wouldn't nag. so i won't. i'll sit and stop calling. if he wants me to stop being needy then that's what he'll get. i'll stop calling, i'll stop wanting to see him, i'll stop hoping or expecting, i'll stop making my life what i thought he wanted it to be. i'm being taken for granted, and i don't know what to do!!! i feel so desperate...so sad...and so neglected.
he comes over and uses the computer. i'm there but he doesn't turn around. i talk but meanwhile he's trying to communicate with friends to see when they're gonna hang out again. and by the time he has to go do something with his friends, go skate, or whatever...i didn't really spend time with him.
he used to call, now i'm the one. he used to put things aside, now it's like whatever. he used to comfort me and now if he sees i'm sad, he leaves me there. he leaves. he leaves when he knows i'll cry harder if he does. he knows how lonely i always feel. i tell him over and over that i have no friends, and part of the reason is him...
i tell him that i wish he'd be here when he's here. not just come to eat and use my computer and leave. not just have sex with me and then tell me that he wants to go skating with his friends.

i want him to tell me SINCERELY, once, that he'd WANTS to cancel on someone else rather than me, for once. we were supposed to go to the movies today. what happened? it wasn't mentioned. okay, i accepted that. we were supposed to plan for tomorrow. oh, but wait...his friends needed him saturday too cause they just can't have any fun without him. i guess we all need him...

but if i tell him this (because i've told him), i know what he'll come back with. he'll say he DOES choose me over them. he'll say he DOES ask me if i want him to cancel. he'll say he DOES spend time with me. and part of it is true. but listen, only part of it. here's why.

he DOES choose me over them; if it's an emergency. he DOES ask me if i want him to cancel on his friends; with a disappointed tone and a whining face. he DOES spend time with me; but most of the time he's not even there. you see? he can get all of me, always. i'm too available. i love him too much??
that's crazy.

but i guess i'm crazy too.

he's gone now. he left. a long long time ago.

tonight i will not call him, i will sleep. tomorrow i won't bother, i'll go out like he does without wondering what he's doing or if he has something to tell me or ask me, or without caring if he wants to hang out with me. sunday i'll skip the movies or the shopping; i can find someone else. maybe my family, or maybe find friends so i won't be so CLINGY and NEEDY. if that's what he wants, that's exactly what he'll get. and then for the rest of the week i will be too busy to do anything but homework and babysit my cousin...that's a handful already. but i'm sure he won't mind.

he has things to do...

This next was a little bit closer.

One afternoon last week, Dobie and the young demon spawn and I were outside on one of our usual afternoon breaks in the back yard. There was a sudden commotion at the back fence with all the dogs barking like mad, so I walked back there to see what was up.

And found a puppy, who was of course barking right back at them. I had heard him, but not seen him before. He, I'm sure, belonged to a young couple with a kid (or two, I'm not sure how many kids they have) who has lived in one section of that house for some time now. I figured he was theirs because the husband asked me if I knew anyone who had any puppies a while back.

My four younger dingbats finally got bored with barking at him and I rounded them up and sent them back inside, but Dobie wouldn't budge from the fence. He'd bark. The puppy would bark back.

He was the cutest little thing, probably about four or five months old. Definitely was going to grow up to be a smaller dog than Dobie, but a few things about him reminded me a lot of when Dobie was a puppy, especially his head and his ears. Pretty much the same goofy looking floppy triangular ears, and a too big for his face clown nose, same as Dobie.

A little darker in color than Dobie; actually he was about the same color one of Dobie's brothers who I called Jaws had been, who had been such an odd darker shade, more brown but kind of strange, that he was almost a dark green. The puppy was was brown and lighter, but sort of in that same odd shade zone.

I really wanted to get back inside but Dobie just wouldn't budge, and I finally gave up trying for a while. They just stood and barked at each other for a while.

Then this game of sorts started between the two of them. The puppy would edge up closer and closer to the fence. Then Dobie would bark, and the puppy would take off running away and go zoom around the yard two or three times, then run right back up to the fence and start edging slooooowly up closer again, and the cycle would start anew.

This must have gone on for 20, 30 minutes, maybe longer. Even though I'd wanted to go in, I didn't mind too much because Dobie was obviously having fun (though he wouldn't want anyone to know that), and being 14 years old and having slowed down tremendously the last several years, he doesn't get a lot of "fun" and "playtime" anymore, especially since his young nephews and niece are such attention hogs.

The ease-up-then-run-away-when-Dobie-barks-and-come-back-again game just went on and on, and I laughed and laughed. And kinda got teary-eyed too, several times. I didn't mind staying out anymore, I was glad he was obviously having fun, my old guy.

Toward the end of our time out there the puppy had stopped the running away and was obviously no longer terribly concerned about Dobie - not surprising, because that's usually what happens. Dobie might scare another animal for a minute or two but it doesn't take long for them to realize he's nowhere on the scale of being a threat. Having been the only puppy among three older dogs the first couple of years of his life and having had a mother who would only let him eat when she decided he could for the first ten years of his life - well, Dobie's just never really gotten much respect. The four young goofballs who wound up (begrudgingly) as his charges when their mama died kind of defer to him as an elder, but they're never frightened of him (I think I saw Petey look concerned all of once when Dobie was mad at him about something), and Dobie's never been anywhere even remotely close to being an Alpha.

Anyway, so we hung out at the fence a little while longer and the little puppy even came closer and I petted him a little bit. He was really sweet and friendly and, you know, just full of puppy-ness.

It crossed my mind at the time that it was a little worrisome that apparently his owners were just letting him run around - that yard is not fenced in at all, other than the neighboring fences at the back. There's no enclosure, and he was just running free.

I think the run-away-zooming-around game must have just completely worn me and Dobie both out just watching the puppy zoom around the yard over and over and OVER for as long as he did. I was getting really tired, and Dobie was either tired too or just bored with it all, so when I made a move to head back to the house, Dobie came along this time and we left our new little friend at the fence. And came in and both took a very long nap.

I had to call my mom a couple of days later and tell her about Dobie's new friend, and we just laughed and laughed some more. We didn't see him any more the rest of the week, really, except for one day when we were all out and the puppy was out and way off to side of their house, but Dobie and the four dingalings could see him so they all barked at each other for a little bit, and then we came back in.

Monday morning, we went out at our usual time for the first potty break of the day. There was another commotion at the back fence, so I walked over to see what was going on.

The young ones have always had a habit of barking at inanimate objects that were not previously there before, whether in our yard or in the neighbors' yards where they can see; in fact, my next door neighbor just a few days ago started parking her car further down the drive and right next to our side fence, so they barked at the car the first night it was there. Dobie's never really done that habitually like they do, but he will sometimes.

So I got back to the back fence to see what they were barking at. And then I saw it, though it took me a minute to figure out what I was looking at.

Just a foot or so from my fence, there was a stick, about the size of a croquet stake, sticking up out of the ground, with a small bunch of yellow plastic flowers tied to it. And a small blue plastic dog food and water bowl placed at the bottom. That bowl's what really took me a minute to register what I was seeing.

I just burst into tears, couldn't help it. Daisy and Buster and Bruiser and Petey finally got bored with it, as they usually do with inanimate objects that weren't wherever they are previously, and went elsewhere.

Dobie wouldn't budge again. Just kept standing there barking at it with his increasingly hoarse as he gets older bark.

And then it occurred to me that he apparently knew, that he wasn't just barking because they were previously-not-there objects. So then I started crying even harder, at which point I knew without a doubt that he knew the puppy was dead and buried there.

I don't know what happened, though I would guess he probably either got run over by a car or was killed by one or a pack of the roaming dogs I sometimes see around. It wouldn't have taken much, he was so little. I've got cats bigger than he was.

And I was so heartbroken. Because of the needless loss. Because my old dog that I helped his mama birth, who probably doesn't have all that much time left, had such a nice day the other day messing around with that silly puppy zooming all over the yard. And now here his new little friend had gotten run over or killed somehow, and probably because he'd been left to run around unattended. And I know Dobie knew, and that broke my heart too.

Dogs - and cats - know stuff. When Rocky was dying - Rocky who'd always been "Dobie's cat" - Dobie laid down next to him and stayed there until 20 or 30 minutes after he was gone.

They don't forget things; well, most of them. The four young'ns were really too young to remember their mama very much and I don't know that they do. But when I mention Lucy or Dez or Batman or Dare or Molly or Satin, the young one's mama & even though she wasn't with us but for about eight or nine months - any of the cats and dogs we have lost since Dobie was born nearly 14 years ago - there is recognition in Dobie's eyes.

And especially if I bring up his mama, who has been gone about four years now. I call everyone "baby" from time to time, but he knows when I'm talking about his mama, whose name really was Baby. And he looks sad, and I wind up crying enough for both of us.

But I know he knew where the puppy was. Maybe it was the scent, even buried in the ground, but I know he know he knew.

I guess otherwise I would have never known what happened, but I can hardly stand to see that tiny little grave back there, right almost up against my fence. I've avoided going back that way most of the week. It just makes me so sad to see it.

God, this has just been an awful year, though I guess it makes sense since I have/had so many all reaching elderly stage at the same time. Losing Rocky, losing Lulu the Beagle, Dobie and Little both having their freaky stroke-like episodes at almost the same time while Lula was still sick. Now Schuyler, my formerly big and strong black cat now just skin and bones and weighing nothing; it's coming, it's just a matter of when.

I'm so tired.

(PS I have to add this because it's kind of funny in a not funny but really funny sorta way. In Schuyler's decline, one thing that has happened is that he is not controlling his bowels very well; he just can't make it to the litter box most of the time, though in recent days I have been able to see it coming and grab him and get him there.

Unfortunately one of the spots he goes to the most is a place where Audi is, more often than not, laying around. Can I just say of all the cats in the house, the one I would like LEAST for Schuyler to be pooping on is my VERY long-haired white cat?!?!?!

Cleanup has been excruciating. Oddly enough, Audi doesn't seem to mind or notice - I don't know why!!! He's old too, 16 or 17, maybe he's gotten senile and just doesn't care. Ugh.

We've gone a few days now, though, without Schuyler pooping on Audi so, fingers crossed. Heh.)

This fairly violent cartoon is an extreme dramatization of how life as a Senior feels at the moment. I have been waiting for a good majority of my life to leave this House of Broken Glass. Every good child loves their parents to death, and I do, but with all the things I have had to deal with in this home I am just counting the days until I can finally move out (hopefully into a dorm, I can not spend more than another year here). Some people live a life that they can appreciate and in a home filled with true love and care for one another. I am not as fortunate. Just as a forewarning to my readers, I'm not typing this blog as a plea for help or looking for some kind of sympathy, I just figured it's a part of my life, so I would post it up here.

I suppose if my parents ever found this they would give me some kind of lecture about how I shouldn't be posting our lives up for public view. Well today, waking up to my mother yelling at my father about how he won't get off his lazy ass and do the chores she asked him to do (over and over again like a broken record) and my father ripping a cabinet door off it's (already broken) hinges, I realized that I am no longer some 10 year old cowering in fear on the couch as my mom leaves the house and my dad throws her purse in the pool, I am almost an adult and enough is enough. I am at my breaking point and it is no longer "our" lives, it's "my" life that they are screwing around with when they do this.

I have stood by for as long as I can remember watching my parents do horrible things to each other, then turn around to hold some facade around other people. I guess this facade is somewhat a reflection of the good they have in them, and how they can actually be good, loving, caring, and responsible parents. These are the parents those of you who know me personally know, and please don't treat them any differently after reading this. It is just a whole new experience once you have lived under their roof for 17 years and you have seen them behind closed doors.

The acidic relationship my parents have has traumatized me mentally, I believe. I know I am still in High School, but so far I haven't been able to  hold a relationship much longer than a month or two, because of insecurities within myself. I do not want to be in a relationship like my parents are in. I don't want to be in a relationship where I would cheat on my wife, and she would respond by cheating on me....and still say i was completely in the wrong. I hope that came out right. I digress. They need each other only because of me and they've been together for so long they don't know what the hell they would do without each other, as if time was glue: the longer two things are held together the more messed up the two things get when they are seperated (paper gets ripped off, glue stays on, it's just a big mess). Another thing I have noticed in myself is that I am more and more jumpy when I hear a loud noise (due to my mother and father's knack for throwing things around when they are arguing). At times, I would have a quick flashback of one of their worse fights when someone slams a door or something.

For fear that I will lose my friends due to them thinking I'm insane, and in fear that I will reveal one fact too many, because I can tell you there is a lot I can go into, I will just end my rant here. I love my parents, and they can be the best parents ever, but if they go through a little episode like this again I'm just going to run away to Boston or some place where we used to be happier.

Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.

~Dr. Seuss

This letter is extremely late.  Im really really really really sorry for that.  It wasn't so much that I'm busy, even though I am as busy as hell can be, it's just that I don't really have that much to write about, and I haven't been in the best of moods lately.

But, oh well I s'pose.

Anywhoo, the scaring the neighbors story.  So it was about last week when I invited Karen and Sammi over.  So about like, 10 minutes later I hear the doorbell ring, expecting it to be them.  So I do what I normally do when people ring my doorbell... I start screaming all these weird sounds bounce of the stairs and run into the door - as a little greeting show, haha.  Well, low and behold when I open the door, it is not Karen and Sammi.  It is my neighbor, who is staring at me very strangely.  Me, not knowing what else to do, blushes profusely and just takes the clothes he was dropping over and was like, "Oh.. yeah... umm... hi."  Then we had an awkward conversation and then he left.  Karen and Sammi arrived 4 minutes later, and I didn't do my little greeting episode this time.

So yeah.  What else have I done... Oh, Projekt: Clubhouse update!

All the walls are painted, and I started painting the sky for the mural.  Today I'm going to do something else... but I haven't decided what yet.  Anywhoo, I've included some pictures for you all to look at.  The paints (third picture) costed about 40$ total, so my mom had a heart attack.  I needed to calmly explain to her many times that it was ''cheaper than a birthday party'', because I wasn't able to have my quiencenera because of money restrictions.  :[

And so yeah.  Progress is going... slowly... but it's going.

It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.  ~Grace Hopper

Okay, so something has beenr eally bothering me this past week and I want to know if anyone else feels the same way I do.  It's on the topic of lying.  So what bothers you more- what the lie was about, or the fact that they were lying?  Or maybe you are normal and you just don't care?  Well to me, I'm really bugged about the fact that someone was lying.  I mean really, it superly irks me.   I don't care if you've flat out ditched me, or just don't want to hang out with me - honestly, it hurts a little but boo hoo, life goes on.  I care that you lied to me.  I mean, it just really upsets me that someone can't grow a pair and come out with the truth.  Urgh.  I'll stop now before this turns into a full blown rant.

Oh and another thing, I know we all forget sometimes, but when someone calls you - CALL THEM BACK.  Especially if they call you to hang out, at least tell them you can't or don't want to, so they're not freaking waiting around all day because you said you'd call them in 15 minutes.  Another thing I think is rude is when you call someone to hang out, but can't for another hour or so, and you call back and they've already made other plans.  So if someone says they'll call me back, I wait for them.  LOW AND BEHOLD, they don't.  I mean, honestly folks, if you forget, at least sound earnest in your apology.  Just don't be like, "Oh whoops, I forgot to call you.  Sorry."  I mean, it's just FDASJKFASJDKLFJASLFJLASKFASLJFASKL.

Okay.  Plan to not turn that into a rant failed.  That's sorta why I have been waiting to not write - I've been in a very bad mood lately.  But on a happier note, my sickness did go away.  Well, for now at least.

I also need to include something: August 1st (maybe July 31st?  Hmm... I'm not sure) I will be leaving to go to a wedding in a different state, so I won't be back until August 9th or August 10th.  I won't have any internet access or anything, so I'm super sorry about that.  However, if the chance comes along where I do get to update, I will write my letter as soon as possible.

If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say?  And why are you waiting?  ~Stephen Levine

Oh, and want to hear another bummer?  (This letter is so depressing, I know).  I'm not going to New York anymore.  Why?  Because my sister works nights from about 5pm to 4am, and my mother doesn't want me alone in a city I don't know.  Oh well I s'pose, there's always next year.

By the way, to explain my maddness of quotes being dappled about this letter, it's to make up for me not writing for like, four days.  That way you still get your lovely quotes!  And I'll give Ben two photo challenges to do, and he will (i'm forcing you BEN) give me two as well, so you won't get jipped on photos either.  So we both win!  BEN, your photo challenges are: Small World, and Lonely.

So yeah.  I think that's about everything I wanted to talk about.  Or had to talk about.  Or can talk about before going into another rant.  I should upload my pictures now, but I'm going to wait until tomorrow so you guys can justh ave a SPAM PICTURE TIEM.  It'll be great.

Well I'm going to reach 1000 words, so this will technically be like, TWO letters, so I tell you what's a cheerer upper.  failblog.org   Seriously, ths thing is genius!  It just has a whole bunch of pictures/videos of just FAIL related things.  My favorite:

You just gotta love facebook ads.  Teehee.  Well I hope that cheered everyone up.  Not that everyone up should need cheering... you all should be happy already!

Alright, i'm closing out my letter with one more picture:

Hmm, I think I still have the other photos I need to put on the photos page.  I'll get to that eventually.

Much love,
Your friend who needs to eat,
Carla

Do you know the value of friendship?

Why do you even compare?

Why do you even lie?

Why do you even say those hurtful things?

Why are you full of envy?

Why are u so selfish?

Why are u torturing me?

Why didn't you try understanding me?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

I'm so disappointed.

I'm so hurt.

I am a friend with feelings.
I ain't no robot.
And I don't belong solely to you!

]]> http://lipna.wordpress.com/?p=374 Fri, 25 Jul 2008 17:50:57 +0000 lipna http://lipna.wordpress.com/?p=374 Earlier I submitted another post on Professor Randy Pausch. Here is the link. He was a Professor of Computer Science, Human-Computer Interaction, and Design at Carnegie Mellon. In Sept. of 2006, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and it is the most deadly of cancers, with only a 4% 5-year survival rate. As he knew, he was dying he gave this wodnerful lecture names 'Last Lecture' which later became one of the most sensation lecture in the internet and bestselling book!!

Here is a post to Pausch's Web site yesterday by his friend "Since last week, Randy has also taken a step down and is much sicker than he had been. He's now enrolled in Hospice. He's no longer able to post here so I'm a friend posting on his behalf because we know that many folks are watching this space for updates."

His lectures, stories and motivations were really encouraging. This strong, funny and very inspiring man died today at his Virginia home at the age of 47.  Here is the youtube link to his very famouse lecture.

Read More on this news

I am feeling very sad!! Death is one thing we all ahve to face and accept!!! Whatever we do, however successful we become - no matter what, this one cruel but natural thing will happen to each one of us :(

went to watch the inter-class dance thingy with grace. its like damn omg i got nothing to say. was damn freaked cause we helped with one joy the day before. yeah, it was still okay, i guess? then went for art. felt damn pissed, sad and tired. didn't do mucha art. ):

decided to went off for dinner with grace, yilin, huimin. omg damn fun. macs, then to several playgrounds, bbt, hang arnd then home. cheered up a little. heh. dance peeps rocks. (:

and wtf. i just got bloody scolded. for watching teevee and the comp at the same time. wtf?! i never even freaking watch the teevee properly for days already lor. walau, everytime also i fucking tio scolding. and this is why i get so freaking piss with my brother cause he never tio scloding for the same b!tch thing i did.

thanks. just when i thought this day can't get any more worse. i have to be fucking scolded. i still have to think, find and draw for art. man, i hate today. everything's just not going right. i feel damn miserable pl0x.

I learnt the sad news via FriendFeed.com, here is a link to a news item.

Pamela Anderson has been given her own "reality" show on the E! Network. Tell me please, is there anything "real" about her? She's real ugly?  She's a real mess?  She's a real slut?   Stuff like this makes me sad...

I have spent the last two weeks in an anxious frame of mind, unable to laugh, ready to cry at every other R&B song that comes on my internet radio. I feel like I am gonna collapse. I am not eating well.

Yesterday I left Chris a voicemail about the email. Last night I was unable to resist the compulsion to send him a suggestive text message that may have made him smile. I just hope he didn't roll his eyes. Then this morning, I felt bad and sent him an offline IM saying 'I don't mean to rush you about the email.' It is exhausting being what he would call a "basket case." My goal for today is no more contact whatsoever. And it will be my goal tomorrow and the next and the next. Until I forget, or I hear from him.

I hope he takes so long to reply that I do forget. He probably is considering changing his identity. He probably thinks I have lost my mind.

He has reason to. Our sex life was intense, and I let myself become emotionally entangled.  And I wasn't smart enough to keep my mouth shut, either. So he was the victim of every little thought that ran through my head. I just wanted too much too soon. I'm sure it overwhelmed him. It reminds me of old song lyric from an obscure Afghan Whigs song: Maybe I'm afraid of girls but I'm not afraid of you... You wanna scare me then you'll cling to me no matter what I do...

And that's what I did.

Then of course, I lost my damn mind and told him it wasn't gonna work, and why. I was probably right. But now I don't care. My judgement is all screwed up. I thought I wanted to go ahead and get the pain over with. But if he called me right now, I'd do whatever he wanted.

The strange thing is, I really have no idea how he feels about me. I would think if he cared he would call or write. I just hope that he is either busy or taking his time getting back to me. I hope that means he is at least thinking about what to say. I think if the answer was no, it would have come rather quickly. The thought of getting no answer at all kind of makes me sick. I am already hanging my tomorrows on his reply.

If I was a friend of mine, I would slap my face and say "get a grip" ... but at this point, I can only hope that whatever is left of my dignity and self-esteem will kick in and do it for me.

NOON UPDATE:

I had made another promise to myself today that I couldn't keep. In the car on the way back from lunch, I started crying, the one thing I didn't want to do today. I haven't made it one day since I the last day I saw him. There are other factors in my life that make me sad, put pressure on me, and stress me out. But the combination of all that plus the fact that I have no answers made me break down. Even if Chris were to say he wants to see me, then I have a whole new set of problems, in a way. It's the uncertainty that's slowly grinding away at me. And I am starting to buckle under the weight of it all, feeling like I should consider getting my shit together before I try "being with" anyone.

I spent the weekend going through my mother's apartment - readying it for the movers on Monday. Although I'd done a lot of culling a month ago when I was there, there was still a lot to do.

It's very hard to dismantle someone's life. We all know you "can't take it with you" but when you are moving someone of their home for the last time, there are a lifetime of treasures that one has to sift through and make choices about. For both the old person and the caregivers - some of it is fun - reading old letters, looking at old photos. Some of it feels good because you can give things away to others who will cherish and enjoy them. Some of it is sad because you have to part with things you've loved. And some of it feels downright threatening for the old person who's life is being disassembled piece by piece.

My mother is fortunate we have a large home. She is bringing her bedroom suite, her piano, my father's leather wingback chair, her piano, her books, her best china, art collection, and her personal effects. But everything else has been given away (or tossed).

The movers packed up on Monday morning and we flew to Edmonton on Tuesday night. Now we're in a limbo period where she's arrived but her "stuff" is still in transit and won't arrive for another week or two. I can tell she feels unsettled. She's "home" but she's not home. She's in a familiar and comforting environment at my house, but it's not her house.

And she's exhausted. So am I.

My husband, daughter, two grandchildren, and Jed the Boxador dog are doing the reverse trip (3200 kilometers in 48 hours) and should arrive in about four hours. I will be glad when they arrive safe and sound.

These past two weeks have been especially hard for me. I've been learning a great deal about just how death affects me.

For my grandfather on my dad's side, death was slow coming. I'd prepared myself day after day, week after week, month after agonizing month. I loved that man, but I was ready for him to die.

When his death finally came, it was like I could finally move on - something I couldn't do for almost a year and a half. This relieved me, because it was getting hard to breathe.

But my grandfather's death on my mom's side was sudden. I'd expected him to live to see my grandchildren (and I still don't see that happening anytime soon), much less die before I even got married. One minute I was talking to him about his time in the Navy, his pick-up of my grandmother's ring from an ad in the paper at a sketch house, and how they met in PA. The next minute I was watching him wither away, quite unlike the strong, personable man I'd grown to love and adore.

And his death hit me much harder. I still don't feel like I'm over it, and he died last June. I remember how I'd ride my tricycle around the house, and he'd feed me a bite of food. How I seemed to break down his walls of hatred and anger. How he fell in love with me from the very first time he saw me. How he ran over my bike with his Bobcat.

And now with Zoe. It just makes me realize:

It’s strange how things get away from you. The little things, the important things. The simple relationships you take for granted, yet the significant ones that mean so much.

One moment you’re there, stroking her coarse hair, basking in her simple, yet substantial presence; the next, she’s gone – *snap* just like that. You can’t reach out and touch her white fluff. You can’t hear her tail beating on the hardwood floor, greeting you as you walk through the hallway at the end of a long, tiring day. You can’t feel her warm breath in your armpit as you hug her face the way she likes. Well, liked.

You can’t open the freezer to grab her an ice cube because yours are exactly the right size for her mouth. You can’t watch her take it over to the carpet, because that’s just where she went to eat it. You know, so it didn’t slip and slide around on the linoleum like a reckless puck on newly Zamboni-ed ice.

You can’t hear her nails click and clatter on the linoleum floor as she tries to figure out which door you’ll be coming through. She wanted to greet you with the biggest greeting she had – that is, if she could just figure out which door you’d pick.

No more, “Where’s my Poodle-Zo?” or “Help me, Zoe, help me!” or “Where’s your monk-monk?” No more leg humping. No more ripping poor defenseless monkeys to bits and pieces. Or, better even, the cats.

No more car rides or trips to see Daddy. No more frisky business that turned into trying to get her tail, and then not knowing what to do with it once she got it. Or pawing at legs so we’d know to rub her more in just that certain place underneath her neck. No more quiet (and in later years, not so quiet) begging to get that last green bean. You know, the one she’d just chew up and spit out anyway.

You can’t cuddle during the big storms or when the fire truck sirens come wailing by two or three times daily. No more walks and races to telephone poles and stop signs, the ones she always won, of course.

You remember these things, and you’re sad.

But you’ve gotta keep in mind that now, there is no more pain. And that is what makes it all ok. This new absence, that is. To know that she isn’t feeling any pain. That beats missing her every time you walk through the living room, and you don’t see her thumping her tail on the sofa, looking up at you with those big, brown sleepy eyes.

You remember the last year of her life, and realize that it’s impossible to forget that even though she loved you with everything she had, she still suffered a great deal.

And now, she’s not. She’s finally at peace. And maybe one day, you’ll get to see her again. Just maybe.

So moving on...I walked past my ex's house on the way home, got in, and my phone started ringing. I answered it, and it was L (my ex). He said he hadn't seen me in a while and wondered if I wanted a chat. So we chatted outside his house for ages, and he asked me if I wanted to go in for a bit, but I said no I had better be going home. I gave him a cuddle goodbye and then I started crying because as I'm leaving soon, that would be the last time I'd see him.

I started talking about how I like D and all, but no-one can replace L, and how I've suffered from depression all my life but when I was with L I felt happy. So we had a long chat, and I kept resisting the urge to kiss him. Our faces were so close together. He was holding me close and kissed me on the cheek. Then he said how he felt the same way, how things are different without me. How he's started drinking even more. He said that he made a mistake, splitting up with me, and I said "really?" extremely tearfully. We kissed for a long while, he said "I love you" and I said "I hope you mean that". He said that he did, and I asked him what he wanted to do. He said he wanted to give it another go. So from that moment we were back together.

He asked me to stay the night, which I did, and we watched Lee Evans on the sofa with his parents. We slept on a mattress in the lounge, and spent the night chatting, and..........

So I feel bad towards D. I have basically cheated on him, and if you want to be technical, I currently have two boyfriends. But I am going to finish with D today.

At the end of the day, I am in love with L, and no-one, nothing in the world can make me happier, and I had to do what I had to do, however bad and immoral it was. But I will never cheat on anyone again.

In all honestly I have avoided the local news for many reasons, Zimbabwe's fake talks - not one Zimbabwean believes it to be true or useful. They still have their 7pm curfews. They still fear their lives every moment of every day. They still have to cross the border to get milk and coffee. You go to the shop and there are different loaves of bread. There is more than just 500ml milk bottles and what is more you will find that you can choose between non fat, 2% and full cream... they don't get a choice, if they get milk at all it is a miracle, if they get a loaf of bread that they didn't have to bake there is a party. Jam or Jelly? Hell that is a true luxury to Zimbabweans.

In our news we get reports of who the police have caught because, yes, it is a true news worthy event, something that happens very rarely.

Cape Judge President Hlophe allegedly approached some of the Constitutional Court's judges improperly while they were deciding on cases involving African National Congress president Jacob Zuma. That is the polite way of saying he tried to bribe them. Jacob Zuma is said to be the next president of our country, he is currently up for corruption and who knows what else.

The world loves Zuma because he says what they want him to say, the western world thought the same about Mugabe *shrug*. By the way what number wife is he on now? No not divorce I mean at the same time? Is it his 4th or 5th? Ah Africa we love you.

Right now for the big one that just solidifies in my mind why South Africa is the definition of hypocrisy and contradiction. One moment a politician is caught saying "The foreigners are taking all our jobs, they are causing all our problems" next moment we have Xenophobic attacks killing well over 50 people and causing devastation. Then the next week the lovely man from the ANC Youth League announces that they will kill for Zuma. Fabulous I tell you. Least now you know who you are currently killing for.  There is death everywhere we look. You know, it really does make me feel a bit more calm, a bit better, knowing there is a purpose and reason for all the killing, murder and pillage. The relief I can not quantify into words, heaven in Africa!

Sorry I got side tracked so easy once I get started on South Africa, can't exactly just narrow it down considering there is so much to cover.

Now my favourite human in all of the world...

Jon Qwelane

He is a man that either has really small raisins, I mean forget prunes, I am talking raisins now or is gay and just can't come to terms with it. What is the big fuss? I won't add any more, Amandzing (Jon Qwelane) and Sanitypoint (Jon Qwelane is gay) said it all.

I just have one thing to ask...

What would happen if the topic was race?

What would happen if it was any other topic of human rights?

What would happen?

One day soon I will write about the similarities of then and now

You will be sickened to your core.

Enough

I will leave you with this....

Two recent court cases have earned the attention of newspaper readers in South Africa .

1. One person was fined R1 000 ($130) for not having a TV license.
2. Another was released on bail for R500 ($60) after being arrested for murder.

The moral of this South African story:

If you do not have a TV license and the inspector comes round, kill him. You'll save R500.

....It's the Right Thing To Do....

(yes we need licenses to own TV's...)

Now how do I achieve what I set a goal to? Ok I met a guy, and although I was in a long distance relationship back den (I got out of it pretty soon afterwards.. I didnt love him I guess), I felt this pull, this urge to hold onto him... more than our own doings I believe, somewhere destiny was at play too.. there were so many small incidences and coincidences that inspite of the invariable faith in Karma I was astonished..

It was a perfect setting, he was hurt and heartbroken after a long haul relationship broke (4 yrs to be precise) and I was so in his charms... also we both had reached our confort zone with each other... I knew about his actions and he mine..
So, it was a perfect setting for a rebound relationship for him i.e.

I like to believe that some people when hurt once have a tendency to fool themselves about love.
Then they always live a life of leading people on and taking up with anyone who falls for them. They know someone's absolutely in love with them and secretly they couldnt care less. Knowing they can pull the plug at anytime, and not be hurt because they haven’t invested any of their feelings.It doesn’t even bother them that they are destroying someone emotionally and wasting their time. They use them to fill that void. For company. For attention.

This is the kind of guy *A* is or has been, frankly I have no clue. So he never really cared to know how serious I was for him and how much he hurt me in his revenge-against-all-females-coz-the-one-I-love-dumped-me spree...

And now he's back... apparantly all guilty and sorry for what he's done.. What I dont understand is -- Why me???
Out of a half a dozen other females he's hurt pretty badly.. Why come back to me??? I would like to believe that he has some feelings for me now, being in another fling (which is still going on btw) after dumping me brutally and realising what I was to him, but I would be fooling myself.. he isnt the sort of guy who would do such a thing.. I love to think of him as an asshole coz then everything he does or did or thinks just fits then.

Now y I'm confused is, y am I so vulnerable??? y cant I be a bitch,I like to believe I am, and give him a piece of his own booty. Y am I letting my guard down? Y am I making myself prone to immense hurt and a heartbreak AGAIN???
After calling him names and fighting with him he still pings me everyday.. where has his overblown ego which he used to sport at his sleeve gone all of a sudden???

And above all this feeling that the guy I was totally head over heels for, I made myself turn that feeling off -- and then it has come back.. slowly.  It haunts me. It makes me toss and turn at night literally.

I have gone into my post heartbreak deep-thinking-no-output-no-result-only-a-sense-of-discomfort-all-day-long phase.
I've even started snapping at random ppl just coz being sweet takes a tad more effort.... which I'm totally incapable of now...

Hell!!! What do I do????

κωërτ

       I finished The Perks Of Being A Wallflower just after eleven last night. In a way I was putting it off. Finishing the book. And as I got to the end, and read the final words, my heart was sad. Sad that there wasn’t more Charlie. Sad that there wasn’t more Sam, or Patrick, or even Mary Elizabeth. Sad that the letters wouldn’t be there to read anymore. And then I thought about the similarities to my own life, and it made me feel both happy and sad. And I remembered Denise Roma who was truly my best friend. And how we used to scribble pages upon pages within notebooks and exchange them via post. And how she sent me my first mixed tape, full of artists and songs I had never heard before. And how much I liked listening to the songs, and the melodies. And how I used to crawl into my closet, slide it shut, and listen to the music as I read through the scribbled pages she had sent. And all this time, her secret was safe with me.
       Scattered throughout the feeling infinite, were the sad and dark times. Times I try not to think back to. And in a lot of ways, it seems they outnumber the feeling infinite. I was naïve—and didn’t really understand things until it was either too late, or the damage had been done. That’s why I was so grateful when Denise came along. It was like for the first time, the world was opened up to me and I learned… and she learned… and we both learned from each other. And just as the world opened up to me, it was taken away. And that was that.
       It’s late, and although I’m not tired, I’m going to lie down anyways. I don’t know why I mentioned all the stuff above. But I need to leave it. I have my own reasons that I might get to in an upcoming letter. I just wanted to tell you that I finished The Perks, and that it’s great!

Love always,
Garrett

Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.

Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine's Day,  and Easter.

Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable with a funeral than a wedding or birthday party..

Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming, because you just don't like to sit through anything.

Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's & why didn't I's go through your head constantly.

Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.
Normal is having the TV on the minute I walk into the house to have noise, because the silence is deafening.
Normal is staring at every baby who looks like he is my baby's age. And then thinking of the age she would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.

Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.

Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal".

Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child's memory and her birthday and survive these days. And trying to find the balloon or flag that fit's the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really.

Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special my baby loved. Thinking how she would love it, but how she is not here to enjoy it.

Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.

Normal is making sure that others remember her.

Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.

Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.

Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.

Normal is taking pills, and trying not to cry all day, because I know my mental health depends on it.

Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.

Normal is disliking jokes about death or funerals, bodies being referred to as cadavers, when you know they were once someone's loved one.

Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone stricken with grief over the loss of your child.

Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child.

Normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in England, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands and all over the USA, but yet never having met any of them face to face.

Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.

Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this because..." I love God, I know that my baby is in heaven, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why healthy babies were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.

Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did laundry or if there is any food.

Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have two children or one, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when you say you have one child to avoid that problem, you feel horrible, as if you have betrayed your baby.

Normal is avoiding McDonald's and Burger King playgrounds because of small, happy children that break your heart when you see them.

Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours and asking if there even is a God.

Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.

And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".

********************************************************************
Oh how achingly true this all is. Reading it just brings so much of what I expertly suppress every day to the surface.  My loss is everywhere. Everywhere.  Today  coming back into Canada from the US, Tim mentioned that we have to pick up passport renewal forms, 3 of them this time, as Evan's never had one. I looked at him and said "not four" and he said "I know, I was thinking it too." There are just so, so many reminders of the fact that our daughter is not here every single day.  It's exhausting, feeling them, attuning to them, wasting energy on them. We are being reminded over and over again that she's not here, nor will she ever be. We'll never be that perfect family of four. Even if we do go on to have another child, we'll still never be it. We'd then be a fractured family of five. There is no win. I used to be so relieved when families I'd known who'd lost would conceive again, as though I thought they were 'fixed'.  Oh, the naivete. What I wouldn't give for a dose of that right now.

God I'm missing you tonight, my beautiful girl. Every second I feel your absence, a gaping, empty hole in my life where you should be.  There are so many things I do that I shouldn't be able to. Spending hours online, staying up late, getting drunk camping with friends. None of this should be my life right now. I should be on maternity leave, with my vibrant 10 month old, pushing you on the swing at the park, splashing with you in the bath, singing you songs goodnight. My body should be providing milk for you, I should be buying you fuzzy pajamas for fall. All of this is so wrong, so confusing and messed up. I have learned to 'get by' in the world every day; survive, if you will, but I have not learned how to live again. How to desire, or want or thrive. I am basically existing.  All I think about every second of every day my sweet baby is you, and how incredibly unjust it is that you're not here. You were an innocent child, whose life was taken before you had a chance to take one breath of sweet air, hear our voices tell you we love you, feel our hands stroke your newborn soft skin, feel a gentle kiss from your brother, who was so excited to meet you. How can any of this be real? How can it be forever? How can I possibly go on to lead a 'full' and 'meaningful' life, as I'm promised I will?  Oh baby girl, I ache all the way through for you.  I am wrung out, there is nothing left. Nothing but pain.  I am so tired.

Anyway, I am starting it tomorrow, officially.