thanks, but no thanks

Even amazon thinks I should get out more...

andre, again

Remembering is bittersweet

I can't deny that certain songs, no matter how much I hate them, are linked to memories. Unsually specific but fragmented, these are sometimes my clearest recollections.

For example, both "My Name Is" and "Slim Shady" make me think of a week at my grandparents house.

It was Spring Break. I didn't have much to do, and being a 14 or 15 year old I had not yet learned how to entertain myself, so I watched a lot of tv. At home we had a more basic cable package, but my grandparents had what seemed like endless options. That week I was introduced to, and became hooked on, MTV. There still showed music videos then, and I watched Eminem over, and over, and over. . . I'm not sure if I even liked the song, but I was so enthralled with music videos that I never changed the channel.

The important things are sketchy. . . It was either the spring break of ninth or tenth grade. I want to say I was with my mom only, but that doesn't make sense. I can't remember anything else about that trip.

Except that, I think, my grandmother was dying.

Her cancer had come back and was destroying her quickly. I remember, later, standing by her bed, barely recognizing her. It was, of course, not her real bed, but a hospital bed they had moved into the bedroom. I remember sitting beside my grandpa when the coroners came to get her body. . . watching them push a covered stretcher through the living room. I remember walking beside him at the funeral, past the casket, for one last goodbye.

I wish I could remember more. More from the happy times, from the remission, when I usually forgot about the cancer. Most of my memories are short and vague, supplemented and sustained by stories and photos.

grapefruit juice.
onions.
the horse across the fence (he was allergic to carrots).
orange and grape soda in the garage refridgerator.
over-sensitive smoke detector.
old man pjs.
"yonder."
wheel of fortune.
bedspreads.
aquanet.
cushioned toilet seat.
boston terriers down the street.
grand.
westark (pre-uafs).
dr. floyd
front porch glider, green.
the crown vic.
long necklaces.
white teddy bears.
touch lamps.
orangsicles.

so maybe I'm a bit of a druggie

So, I've been a little under the weather. No fever as far as I know, but then again my thermometer hasn't read anything other than 96.5 since college.

Monday it was bad; my throat was on fire. I got off work at 3 and crashed for the rest of the night.

Tuesday I started to get snotty and phlegmy, so I dug through my bathroom drawers until I found some old Claritin. The box had long since disappeared, and there's no room for directions on the blister-pack-things.

Sometime in my 24 (24, right? maybe 23) years I came to the conclusion that pills were pills and are to be taken every 3 to 4 hours. I didn't think twice about it, I just swallowed the pill and chased it with a delicious Halls® cherry cough drop.

Apparently I was wrong. Waaaay wrong.

According to the box I bought tonight, the directions are as follows:
adults and children 6 years and over - 1 tablet daily; not more than 1 tablet in 24 hours

In the last two days I've taken 8.


Ah well, I'll bounce back. You're only supposed to eat one cough drop every two hours, too. I've emptied two bags in three days.

The only progenitors my family's gonna see for awhile...

Jax (Jaxon)




Harleigh



Yep, they're the cutest...

eye spy

My eye hurts.



(This picture is a lie)
Its not red actually, but it feels infected. How do I know? Oh, I've only had like 12 eye infections since junior high...ok, maybe only 5 or 6, or 4, but still, I recognize the feeling.

In the past I've always gone to a doctor and gotten prescription drops, but I don't really want to go through all that. (side note: the pharmacy tech at walgreens told me I looked familiar. My response: "Uh...I come here a lot..." Who needs a place like Cheers when you see your pharmacist more than you see your mother?)

My question: Will an infection heal itself, or will I be getting the drops sooner or later?


[I hate wearing my glasses in public. They give me a complex.]

God provides. Sometimes its in the form of giving us more, but sometimes its by teaching us how to live with less. This applies to much of life, but in light of the recent Status podcasts I've listened to, I'm thinking money. So, I present...

How to Live Like a Poor* Kid: a beginning lesson





*and by "poor" I mean not poor at all, but relative to what I grew up with and what many of my peers have or think they have

Il pleut

I need sunshine. I'm blaming my mood on the grey sky, although I suspect there is more to it. . . like work, lonliness, poor sleep. Unfortunately, these (especially the last two) will only become more challenging if my mood does not improve.

Is there a chapter in the Boundaries book on work? I need to review it.

Part of me wants to scream and pound on things, but really I just don't have the energy.




I toured some historic homes today with my mom.


I don't work again until Friday. My goal is to leave my apartment at least once, every day. We'll see.

How do you walk up to someone and say, "I'm not ok."

When "how are you?" is spoken in such a cheery, almost chirpy voice, how do you answer it was anything but "fine"?

How do you know if they want to know the truth, and how do you find the words to tell them?

stormy

I can't say for sure how much the weather affects my mood, but lately, the clouds and storms outside my window are reflected in my soul.



Until last night I have at least been functioning. With some effort, I have done what needed to be done. Still, the moments when I'm aware of my unhappiness are increasing.




I've learned to ignore it, for the most part, when the darkness starts to creep back in. . . but then something happens and my resistance breaks and I am overwhelmed.



I feel defeated. I am doing the right things but getting the wrong results. On one hand, I don't expect life to be fair, but on the other, I unconsciously hope for some karmic justice. . . or just a break.



I realize that there is so much more than I see, and applying Murphy's Law to my life is to only acknowledge as true that which I am aware of, but there's a disconnect between my head and my heart. Although I may recognize this, I still feel like I'm consistently failing.


images from postsecret.com