10 November 2009
01 November 2009
27 October 2009
19 September 2009
25 August 2009
02 July 2009
She was the kind of girl whose gaze and thoughts were almost always aimed at the sky. She was dismissed as dreamy, aloof, but no one seemed to notice that her habits were the result of being so firmly stuck in the ground, buried to her neck in earth and its realities.
21 May 2009
I've managed to more or less unpack. My room is still a really big mess though. There are a lot of things I need to sort through on my floor. And under my bed. It almost looks like my brother's room.
I seem to have developed some kind of rash on my arms, worse on my left. I thought it was heat rash at first, but it stops where my shirt sleeve was last night, which is where I'd think a heat rash would start, since it's hotter under a shirt than on bare skin. Who freaking knows? I'll see if it goes away in a day or so.
I'm working tomorrow. I knew it was going to happen. I called my boss and was going to tell him that I'm back and wanted to discuss work this summer, but he interrupted me and said he was kind of in a bind, and asked if I could work tomorrow, so I'm doing that after I drop my brother off at his friends' house to go to prom. I hope it won't be crazy busy. I also hope that I can work tables again, and that I can set up a more steady schedule for the summer, rather than having to guess when I work and wait to plan my life until mid-Sunday.
Yesterday, I picked up Bill from the airport, and we spent the day together. I was so happy. I missed the cuddles, and falling asleep on my bed. It was just wonderful.
I miss being in school, though. I miss the freedom. I miss going to bed whenever I felt like and not getting lectures about it. I miss going places, and loitering in Wegmans, I miss doing the dozens of things I've done with Lisa over the past two years, and when I think about that, I get terribly sad, because it's then that I realize that I won't be doing those things very often at all anymore. I can't go to class with Lisa anymore, or go to dinner with her. I have to wait for hugs and bedcuddles and Wegmans adventures and trips to Tim Horton's and the EggPlant and everything. It sucks. It's going to suck. It's going to be hard to leave my room sometimes.
We've been teaching Dante to go outside without a leash and stay in the yard. Today, I walked out with him, and he went past the fence, near the garage, and I had to yell at him until he came back. And then he nearly went into the road to investigate a barking dog across the street. It was really scary.. I don't think I'll be letting him out without a leash for a little while. He's been surprisingly good other than that, though.
I have an overwhelming feeling to leave.
14 May 2009
Today, I'm trying to find some good qualities about me. It seems like, lately, I've only discovered bad ones - self esteem, for example - and it worries me, because I suddenly feel like I have nothing good about me, nothing that keeps people around me anymore. I'm worried that these things are going to destroy my relationships unless I find some good qualities to strengthen, as well as targeting the bad ones.
I'm really sick. I saw a doctor yesterday, and she told me I have tonsilitis, and gave me an antibiotic. I've discovered that I'm congested enough to make it too hard to play hide-and-seek, which I tried to play with my brother and some of our friends yesterday. I've lost a lot of sleep over it. I can't breathe through my nose, because I'm congested, but breathing through my mouth is painful, so I keep waking up and then I'm not able to go back to sleep. Hopefully, I'll start feeling better soon.
Dante hurt his paw on Tuesday, when I got back. He managed to open the screen door by himself and ran to my car and jumped all over me when I opened the door, and I noticed he got blood on my pants. He's been licking and biting at his paw ever since. He's actually been pretty well behaved thus far, so I'm happy about that.
Earlier, when I was looking for my comb, I fell onto the floor and just started crying hysterically. I have no idea why. It's not like losing my comb was so devastating, and I even asked myself why I was suddenly freaking out. It's kind of scary. I hope that doesn't happen again.
11 May 2009
The semester is over, and I never had a say in it. I wish I had. I want things to keep going, just a little while longer. It won't happen. The kind of pain I'm feeling has no words, but every word.
How do you smile when your lungs are screaming for air?
20 April 2009
I don't really feel like writing stuff, so here's some photos of the crazy things I got for my birthday.
Not actually a birthday present. I saw this little glass owl in Ananda's Bliss today and had the desire to own it.
From my dad. So silly.
From Kaira. I told her to give me a dinosaur for my birthday, thinking it would be a ridiculous request, and this was her response.
From my dad. We all love ninjas.
From Lisa. It's Al, from Fullmetal Alchemist
From my brother. I saw it in Hot Topic, tried it on and loved it. He responded by taking it from me, telling me "shhh" and buying it.
From Jamie. It's a pillow. So crazy.
From Naoko. Cuute.
Also from Naoko.
14 April 2009
I feel uneasy.
I think it's because of this girl who was overtly staring at me in Friendly's yesterday. She watched everything I did, and her eyes followed me to and from the bathroom. She honestly made no effort to hide her interest in me.
For some reason, this incident brings to mind a couple of summers ago, when this girl came up to me in Cumberland Farms when I was getting a slushie. She said to me, "Wow, you're seriously ugly," and brought her sister over to confirm, who was extremely eager to do so. She then asked, "Why do you even bother to go out in public? Do you really think anyone wants to look at you?" I remember telling her that I liked the way I looked, and I wasn't going to change it for a bratty teenager. And she told me that that was a shame, because I really did look terrible. She sounded so angry, so upset, so... offended that I happened to be in her presence that day. I didn't say anything else as she left the store.
I remember that my first thought was wondering where her mother was. I wondered if her mother would have done anything, or would have also told me that I am indeed ugly.
I was angry for a while. I felt like it was rude to go up to someone you don't know and verbally assault them for no particular reason.
My final thought was that this was probably how quite a few people saw me. This is how the people whose eyes had followed me throughout the years were thinking, but never said. I wondered if it really meant that I was ugly.
I guess this little girl, probably thirteen or fourteen, just threw me off. Maybe she was thinking the same thing about me. Maybe she was just curious because my hair is about six different colours. There's really no way to know. I guess I shouldn't really worry about it, but it was just something that has been stuck in my mind.
I bought some toys in Boston. Here's one.
04 April 2009
I guess that means I seriously need to reevaluate my thoughts, and how I'm handling things in life. Although the first step is really to figure out what the crap is bothering me so much.
I keep having this overwhelming sense of loneliness, even when I'm around people. It's like... I'm sitting in the background watching people talk and laugh and hug, and I just can't get in. Or shouldn't. I don't even know.
I took an organic exam yesterday. I studied for two or three days straight for it [I don't really remember..], and it was really hard, because there were a lot of reactions to remember. I had to remember Friedel-Crafts acylation, and what the Tollens reagent is [Silver oxide, I think], and which reactions are proton transfers, and which nitrogen-based nucleophile yields an imine versus an enamine... Just so much. And when I study, I feel like I can't remember anything just moments afterwards. I'll read over, like, the reaction mechanism for acetals and hemiacetals, and stop and try to go through them in my head again, and I can't remember anything. It's scary. It makes me wonder how I remember anything for the exam. Somehow, I do.
Anyway, the exam seemed kind of easy. I even finished early enough to be able to look through all my answers again and redid some of them. I'm thinking another 80something for this one. I don't know what I'd do if I got a 90 on an exam for that class. Die, maybe. Or just cry. Or think Mullins just felt really bad for me and raised my grade.
Oh, the Dante quiz I thought I messed up really bad... I actually got a 91 on. ...so yeah.
Took an exam in Dante on Wednesday. I'm kind of worried about my essay answers, because it felt like I was just rambling about stuff that may have been irrelevant, but who knows? He grades pretty quickly, so I'll know probably by Monday.
Also, I finally got my philosophy midterm back, and it only served to affirm that I don't have to pay attention in the class pretty much at all. I got a 95, and I spent most of the time of the beginning part of that class playing on my iPod and doodling. So.. that class is crap.
When I was studying for my organic exam on Thursday, I suddenly got ideas for a story, and wrote them down in a notebook. I've started working out a profile for my characters, something Linda suggested to the class to "get to know your character better." I'm hoping that by doing this, my story won't suck that much.
There are some good things, lately. I cut my hair, but I guess that was mostly because I went insane and decided it was too long and couldn't wait until I went to my dad's to have it cut. Also, I got my ear pierced. It was kind of scary, but it's doing fine now. It hurts a little sometimes, but it hasn't started draining yet, although when it decides to do so, I'm sure it'll do it with a vengeance.
I got to see Bill over the weekend, and then again for a day during the week, so that was really fun and delicious. It's so nice to sleep with him and cuddle and stuff. It just makes me so happy.
My brother is coming to visit in a couple of weeks, so that's pretty exciting. He's going to come for a few days during his spring break and I'm going to bring him back with me and Lisa when we go to my dad's for my birthday.
The Boston trip is also coming up next week, and that's going to be pretty fun. I'm pretty excited about going to museums and art galleries and coffee shops and food and all over the place.
24 March 2009
I keep getting distracted from my homework. I'm starting to do things at the last minute again. I'm getting frustrated with customers who call and say "I just unzipped this file that has a program in it, but I can't find it," and I have to remind them that it's probably in the programs folder, and that's a good place to check fairly often. It bothers me that I get so many calls about people forgetting their passwords.
I totally freaking messed up my Dante quiz on Monday because I didn't study as well for it Sunday evening.
I thought I did really well on my Organic exam. In real life, I got an 84. Most of those points came from the Part II short answer questions, because I only missed one of out 40 there. All the points were taken from the multiple choice questions because I can't remember things.
I freaking failed my stupid Calculus exam with a 2.4/4.0. And he wants us to correct it for a quiz grade.
I feel lonely all the freaking time.
I feel like I have no time to do anything, but I still say "Let's go to Wegmans for two hours," because it's way more enjoyable than homework.
My dad is being a total jerk about my brother's grades.
I had a really terrible dream about my brother. One of the ones that make me cry and feel lonely when I wake up.
I hate stupid lab, even though that's probably the class I'm doing the best in.
I can't pay attention in philosophy, even when I don't screw around with my iPod the whole time, because then I just start doodling all over the place.
I'm uncomfortable all the time. My skin is dry, my muscles hurt, and every single position that I sit, lay or stand in is uncomfortable.
I have terrible self-esteem issues.
I feel like a failure and a disappointment to everyone, including myself.
I'm having panic attacks... pretty much every day. At least one, sometimes more. Same thing goes for crying.
My legs feel weak when I'm walking. Which means I'm insane, I'm sick, or there's so much crap in my blood vessels that I'm barely circulating blood anymore.
Good things in the past week:
Saw Bill on both Saturday and Sunday, both under unusual but pleasant circumstances.
Erin is having her baby next month.
22 March 2009
15 March 2009
Both stars on my earrings broke. I guess I'm never buying earrings from Hot Topic again.
I went to Saugerties with my mom and bought her lunch. I promised her I would for her birthday. She then decided it was my birthday, and gave me earrings.
I made cookies and corn muffins.
I might have done pretty well on my organic exam.
I am really excited to play Guitar Hero in the Mary's basement tonight.
I don't feel like doing work at all.
I made brontosaurus and mario star mini toys. It was a lot of sewing, but it was fun.
Sometimes just before the break, Stephanie decided she wanted to talk to me again. She seems to be doing well, and there's no way I was just going to say "no" and abandon her. I can't abandon anyone again. It was nice to talk to her and see her again. Even if I was mad at her, I'm still her friend, and I'll still be there for her if she needs me to be. She seemed really happy, and that's the only thing I could have wished for.
Watched The Last House On The Left with my brother, chibi and Steph. It was pretty good. Well shot, and pretty well written, so I was satisfied.
I ate a lot of vegetables over break. My dad got mushrooms, broccoli, zucchini and green beans, and I sauteed them. It was lots of delicious.
I got to see Bill yesterday, and that was really nice. We ended up sleeping in my bed trying to decide if we should get coffee and ice cream for the movie. It was kind of a difficult process.
Went to Emily and Renee's house and did homework and hung out. Had some of Catherine's yummy homemade wheat bread.
Went bowling with my brother and beat him in two games.
I'm excited for the sleepover I'm having with Lisa tonight!
That's all that I can think of I guess.
21 February 2009
I started thinking about this when we had to rewrite common cliches as something more descriptive, something better, for Creative Writing class. I remember that, when we got the assignment, I thought, "Why? What's the point?"
Obviously, the point was to develop a level of descriptive writing that enabled us to go beyond the cliches in daily life, in order to make our writing more interesting. But then something weird happened.
As I was working on the assignment, I found it pretty difficult to rewrite some of them. Surely, I could use synonyms and expand it into a longer, more flowery sentence, but it felt wrong. Like it never quite said what the cliche itself did. And I think that this was a larger point of the assignment: Can you write in such a way that cliches not only become irrelevant, but your work sounds better than them? For some of these, the answer was no. It was too hard. The cliches sounded way more natural.
And therein lies the problem. We, as a society, have become reliant on cliches. "Love at first sight" and "dead as a doornail" and the like are things that we have assimilated into our minds to mean and express certain things. Surely, these phrases had some real, genuine meaning and feeling to them, but now, the are overused, in effect, something we use, being jaded to romantic and descriptive language, since we're told as children to use more detail when we write. Those who hate it recoil to cliches, and those who don't can work past them.
But think about it. "Love at first sight" is a nice thing, and surely something that everyone wants. We can all imagine the feeling we would get if this happened to us, this wonderful, fluttery emotion that swells our hearts, and makes us feel things we have never truly felt before. But the cliche is easier to say. It takes less work. It gives us a general feeling that we can adapt to ourselves in the way we see fit.
I guess my main concern [and maybe I'm just insane and need to go back to bed], is that language is becoming disingenuous. That is, the things that make language beautiful, description, and wonderful words and the like, are being pushed aside in favour of more generalized phrases. For cliches. For example, to say "I hate this weather" is general. Sure, it is an accurate and valid way to describe your feelings, but how much do you hate the weather? Why? What is so horrible about it? Perhaps I am looking at this from the point of a view of a writer a little too much, but who uses the word abhor anymore? If you say it out loud, it's rough, kind of hard to pronounce because "b" and "h" aren't usually together. And it is in fact a synonym for "hate." So why does no one use this word? Hate is so general, when someone tells us "I hate this weather," we can use our imagination to decide how much that person hates the weather. But using a word that sounds harder, it is easier to discern just how much the person dislikes the weather.
Of course, tone and inflection are important in speech, but I'm looking at this from simply a word-by-word standpoint right now.
Now, I am not trying to say that I myself am not guilty of using cliches and generalized terms to get my point across. We all do and we always will. Just sometimes, when I talk to people in a class, I find that the conversation is something that is so common and unfeeling that I would rather talk to my dog, and all he does is bite my body. Just a concern of mine. I'm sure I'm insane or something.
When looking for this, I also found out there was a band named Abhor, and some porn, of course.
Whilst writing this, I discovered that "ingenuine" is in fact not a word. "Disingenuous" is the correct word when trying to describe the opposite of "genuine."
18 February 2009
Once so strong it
carried me across great distances,
And I sit adrift at sea,
in a tiny boat.
I've been here for days.
I huddle in the counterfeited warmth
Of blankets insufficient for multiple
On the sea.
I've nearly run out of all the things
that are supposed to keep me
A cruise ship passed yesterday.
I called to it, to someone, anyone,
to help me,
but no one heard.
Everyone was too busy dancing
in the ballroom,
Spending time with families,
Brothers, Sisters, Lovers.
And now, today, a small boat,
adorned like mine, drifted by.
Two people, a man and a woman,
Greeted me. I tried to gesture to them my need for help,
but my voice was gone from shouting at the cruise ship.
They gleefully waved back at me, in each other's arms,
And I, who have been carried away
on a current I cannot control;
I, who have been separated, thrown aside
by these strange waters…
I have no choice, but to lay under these
blankets, as inadequate as my broken engine,
and wait until the morning never comes again.
15 February 2009
This weekend, I went to visit Bill. I really wanted to go [despite my dad saying that we were breaking the rules with this visit because I had just made one, but what does he know?], and I could not have been happier that I made the choice to do so.
Friday was spent driving and spending time with both Bill and Lisa, so the whole team was together again. [I feel weird saying that, but that's kind of how it feels I guess. Like we're some team of... I don't know. Maybe love. I'm sure the world hasn't seen a love like the one shared between the three of us in a long while. But I digress.] We got some food at the P&C, and that felt weird, but I guess that's because most of my shopping is done at the dimly lit Wegman's now.
When we got back, Bill made some food for us: steak, broccoli, mushrooms. It was so delicious! It's the kind of meal that is so good, you wish you could have it every day, but you realize that doing so would ruin it's delicious...ness. I helped a little I guess. I mean... I helped to set things up and whatnot, but I didn't do much. I wish I could. Hopefully, when Bill and I are living together, cooking for meals will be more of a team effort than me just staring dumbly not knowing what to do. It was still really fun though. For some reason, watching Bill cook made me extremely happy and peaceful, and not in the way you hear housewives talk about how they are happy that their husbands can cook because that means they don't have to all the time. It was something different. Something just...wonderful.
Then we had to bring Lisa to her parents' house. I was really really tired, but I drove anyway, and everything went fine. I guess the smarter thing to do would have been to pass the wheel to someone else, but I felt like.. I guess like I would be inadequate if I did that. Like "Sure, I'll drive you to your parents' house, Lisa. By which I mean, do it yourself, with my car," or something. I don't know I guess. Same thing happened today, too...
Saturday, I spent with just Bill. We woke up a bit later than usual, but we didn't have anything all that major to do, so it was okay. We had some more delicious food, and did some homework. We went to Mongolia for dinner. It was really yummy [this weekend's trend was yummy, if you can't tell], and I ate so much!
Then we did some calculus, during which I felt kind of dumb, but that's usually how I feel around calculus, so it's okay I guess.
Earlier in the day, we exchanged Valentine's gifts, and I was really happy! I just love seeing Bill smile, especially when I make something and it doesn't look horrible. I make stuff so people can be happy, because that makes me happy. Bill gave me fountains, and some chocolate, and some crazy lottery love card... things. That's kind of how Mongolia happened. But fountains! I love those, and I've always wanted one, and now I have two! It's very exciting stuff. I ran one for like, an hour in here, earlier.
Today, Lisa came back to Bill's, and we had hot chocolate and talked. And Bill gave Lisa her Valentine's gift, so I went into the bedroom and just slept I guess. It would have been nicer if Yu Hon wasn't writhing in the other bed...
Other than that, I've just been doing homework tonight. I wish I had gotten more done than I actually did, but I can't stay up much longer - I want to have breakfast before Organic tomorrow... It doesn't help much that I'm a slow reader, either. Oh well. I'll just have to work really really hard tomorrow between classes.
Bask in the warmth of happy days,
for when the
Cold winter of
Loneliness stalks behind you,
It will be the only thing that
keeps you from
12 February 2009
On Tuesday, I visited Professor Leo after work, and she gave me some more stuff to work with. Then I visited Joe Mullins, and he went over a few problems with me, and then I went to calculus, and then back to see Mullins. And just before I left, my advisor, the Analytical/Instrumental Chemistry professor, Anna O'Brien, came in, and suddenly, the three of us were talking about movies! I left after a few minutes, though. I know OBrien had something to discuss with Mullins, and I had already kept him late, so I didn't want to continue to prolong his return home.
In terms of work on Tuesday, it became another time where I just wanted to punch Kirby. He scheduled an appointment for me to work on his computer whilst he has a class, which means I can't enter his office, because he did not give us permission prior to the appointment. UGH. It probably means I'll have to visit his office tomorrow.
Today was also busy. Wednesdays, I have two more classes than Mondays, so I don't really get much rest until I get out of lab. And during my breaks, I was working on studying for Dante and NMR. I have to remember to do conjugated dienes tomorrow.
I also have to start a short story for creative writing on Tuesday. My idea is pretty interesting, and when I mentioned it in class [we were supposed to talk about all of our ideas so we could get feedback], it sparked a really big discussion! I didn't really expect it, as it was just my "this is really silly and could be cute" idea, but everyone seems to like it a lot, so I've chosen that one. I've nearly written a page already, so we'll see how it goes. This is the idea:
The journey of the wheat in bread, as it goes from seed to plant to dough to bread to house and consumption. The bread, being a humourous and light hearted character, explains the journey step by step in the first person. A feeling of fulfillment is reached just as it is about to be eaten. An allegory on the journey of a human from life to death, and the finding of a sort of “Nirvana” in fulfilling one’s life goals.
It's really fun to write so far. I hope I can pull it off well.
Today, I picked up my jacket, and it's really cool! I'm so excited, but the weather isn't quite warm enough to wear it, so I'll have to wait, I guess.
It's time for me to go to bed. I have to work at 900am. Ew.
10 February 2009
Also, I've been having trouble with NMR Spectroscopy, which is a technique common to chemistry and known to the medical world as MRI. I have to review it a lot, and luckily, Barbara Leo has offered to help me learn it, as well as Joe Mullins. Hopefully I can get it by Friday, if I work hard. Conjugated Dienes is a little harder than I remember it being when we went over it in lecture, since I had a hard time with it in workshop, so I have to remember to work on that, too.
On a much brighter note, I'm going up to Potsdam to see Bill this weekend, which makes me really happy. I just hate being away from him. Not because I can't handle it, but because, over a weekend, I get so used to that amazing warmth of cuddles, and sleeping in his bed that I can't help but feel a little lonely when I come back here. Like my bed is too big. Too cold. Things are just too empty. But it's okay, because I can tell myself that someday, we won't have to wait several weeks or a month to enjoy each other's warmth, and when I think of it that way, I can snuggle up with his pillow and sleep well. Most of the time, anyway, but then again, I think about a lot of things come bedtime, so I almost always have a bit of trouble sleeping.
I guess I don't know what else to say tonight. I'm going to bed, so I can get up pretty early and work on NMR so I have questions for Leo and Mullins, since I plan to visit both of them at some point tomorrow, and I need to do it before work, which is at 10am. So, goodnight, I guess.
This picture has nothing to do with my mood. It's just freaking adorable. But maybe I just really like Riza :-/
07 February 2009
She married right out of college, to her high school sweetheart, a handsome boy with messy hair and distant eyes. He was so kind and loving, showing her every form of affection imaginable, that we were all so happy for her. Could we possibly have been any less happy?
Their marriage was private; only a few friends and family members were allowed to see it, as they were uncomfortable with having a big extravagant ceremony. They denied the Christian God his apparent right to join them in union, opting that a judge marry them instead. Everyone was invited to the reception. There was so much food, which was surprising, since neither of them seemed to have enough money at any point in their lives. We joked that they had robbed the food pantry for the meal.
They decided to wait on children for the first few years of their marriage, and it was a good idea, from my point of view. This gave them the opportunity to spend as much time with each other as they could, basking in the warmth of their new life together. They took vacations and went to dinner and plays, and they spent nights cuddling, sleeping so that they were never more than inches apart.
One day, he came home, his eyes focused on the floor. She rushed to him, but her welcoming arms were pushed away as he shrugged off his coat, kicked off his shoes, and slumped into bed. He stayed there for hours, staring at the ceiling, before she finally came in, her eyes wide with fear and worry. She quietly lay beside him, and placed her head on his chest, wrapping an arm around him. There, they lay in silence for a long while, before he whispered, "Sean was killed his morning."
Sean was his brother, his best friend. He explained to her that Sean had been on his way to class when a speeding car hit him. He had lay there on the pavement for ten minutes before paramedics reached him. He asked for his brother. The driver never stopped.
He visited Sean in the hospital as soon as he got the call. He watched his brother, bruised, broken and mangled, die in his sleep. He returned to work, where he stared out the window, down at the streets, imagining that each driver was the murderer.
She held him as tightly as she could manage, knowing that no words would make anything better, and cried for Sean. They had known each other since kids, and he had been like a brother to her.
Shortly after Sean's funeral, she noticed something in her husband. It started simply; at first, he forgot to kiss her sometimes when he returned from work. Then he stopped altogether. Soon, he even ceased to say hi to her when he walked in the door. Eventually, he started sleeping on the other side of the wide bed, so that the only time they met each other in sleep was by accident.
She became terribly worried. What if he was blaming her for the accident, somehow? What if he was so depressed that he forgot she was there? She decided to try to help him, by making special dinners, and buying expensive liquors for them to enjoy on the weekends. One day, as we sat for coffee in her home, I watched as she diligently cut construction paper hearts to glue on a card for him. There was no special occasion, other than her love for him. She let her coffee get cold as she fretted over the task, and when one didn't come out just right, she tore it to pieces and put them in a pile to be tossed. She threw away far more than she kept.
She managed to talk to me through the silvery sound of scissors searing through paper, and we talked about normal things: work, classes, family, friends. She even managed a laugh as she told me a story about how a coworker had torn her skirt after her stiletto caught on a loose hem. Then she was silent for a long time.
"I really hope he likes this," she said quietly as she shaped another heart.
His only response to all her hard work was a "Thanks," and a short kiss on the cheek. She told this story to me with the utmost of excitement.
"It's the first time he kissed me in a week or so," she recalled happily.
I remember that I wanted to scream at him, hit him, throw him out of the house he had helped to pay for. Didn't he realize that she was doing everything she could for him, despite his pain? Didn't he realize that Sean's death hurt her too?
One day, about a month after Sean was killed, she woke up in her husband's arm. She glanced at the clock to find he was late to work. She tried to wake him, but he only squeezed her tighter and smiled softly. She looked at the clock again, thinking she had read it wrong, but the same time was glowing on the little screen. Then she noticed something next to the clock, a vase overflowing with brilliant irises, her favourite flower. She turned to look at her husband, but he was sound asleep, the smile engraved on his lips.
When she woke up again, he was gone, but the flowers were not. She sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes and stretching, when she caught the scent of something cooking in the kitchen. She tip-toed out of bed, through the living and peeked around the corner to find her husband swaying and humming in front of the stove. He had set out two plates, poured milk and juice, made toast. She backed up, accidently stepping on his cat's tail, and the cat's screech was replaced his voice as he pinned her to the wall.
"Got you!" he exclaimed, placing his lips on hers before she could let out a startled yelp.
Before she knew it, they were having breakfast. He spent the meal talking about how work had been over the last month, as she just gaped at him, uneasily enjoying the omelet he had prepared for her with extra cheese, just how she liked it.
After breakfast, he insisted that they cuddle on the couch and watch a movie. He picked her up and carried her to the living room before she could protest, and sat with her in between his legs as he rested against the arm of the sofa. When he was sure she was comfortable, he turned on the television, and magically found a good movie to watch. They sat in silence, his arms tightly around her, before she spoke.
"What's going on, honey? Are you okay? Shouldn't you be at work?"
"I took today off. I wanted to spend the day with you."
"Where did those flowers come from?"
"I just got them this morning. I went to the florist this morning and got them. I wanted them to be the first thing you saw when you woke up. I got there a half hour before they opened, though, so I had to wait around a bit. I guess I was just really excited."
"The florist opens at six, honey. You woke up that early just to get me irises?"
"You really like them!" he exclaimed, tickling her belly.
She snuggled closer to him.
They sat around for an hour or so, before she turned around and kissed him. She had to go to work, as she had a big presentation to give today, and unlike him, she couldn't take the day off. He let her go, not without at least three kisses, and she dressed, brushed her teeth and left, also after three kisses. She called me on the walk to work.
"It's amazing," she was saying. "Suddenly, it's like Sean was still alive. He's perky and animated and wants nothing more than to be near me. It's just like when we were married. I know it sounds strange, but I can't but wonder if something is wrong with him. But you know, Mary, he really is wo--"
There was a deafening sound, and distant screams. I called for her, but she didn't answer. I heard someone talking.
"He just came ripping around the corner! Did you see that? That asshole didn't even slow down!"
Someone hung up her phone. I paced around anxiously for a few minutes before another call came. Paramedics. "Do you know a Mrs. Renee Baker?" the man asked. Of course. She's my little sister. "She's just been hit by a speeding vehicle. We're rushing her to the hospital. Is there someone else we should call? Is she married?" I told them to call Danny.
I lived closer to the hospital, but Danny was there before me. He must have driven ninety miles per hour to beat me here. He was staring at her, my dear little sister, his wife, tangled in tubes and wires that whirred ominously in the corner. He was crying silently, holding her hand, petting her hair, matted with blood.
Six broken ribs, shattered pelvis, cracked skull. She was in a coma and her kidneys were failing. Neither of us were a match.
Danny stayed with her religiously, holding a constant vigil over her. He left the hospital only to get a week's worth of clothes and the irises. He placed them on the table next to her bed, along with a small box. Other than that, he ate and slept in that little dim-lit room. He took showers in the hospital, using the one used by doctors when they have to stay for several days. He called his work.
"I won't be at the office for a little while," he said, choking on the words. "My wife is in the hospital. She's been hit by a car."
They finally found a kidney donor. The operation would be risky, though, for someone in her condition. Danny told them to go ahead. He hated the dialysis machine that ripped her blood from her and put it back into her veins. The procedure was a complete success. A catheter attached to a bag, replaced once a day, replaced the menacing machine.
Danny and I watched as coworkers and friends took turns bringing cards and flowers for her. Our parents came, and Danny stood outside as they wailed over her body, fueled by the power of machines. I wanted to tell them to think of Danny, how their overwhelming sorrow and pessimism was killing him.
Danny had replacement irises brought to her room every week, when the old ones had died. He saw me standing the corner, watching him accept the fourth batch of flowers.
"They're her favourite. I want her to see them when she wakes up."
The next day, the doctors told us she would probably never wake up.
"She is breathing on her own now, and that's good, but she shows very little nerve response to any form of stimuli. She might be brain dead."
Danny let their words fall to the floor, refusing to accept the possibility of losing her. He said he would keep her on life support. He didn't care about the costs, which ranked in the thousands of dollars. It was the best decision he made since marrying her.
She woke up three weeks later. By now, Danny's face was covered with a beard, and his eyes were dull from little sleep. He was reading Dante's Inferno to her when her eyes fluttered open.
"What? Can you repeat that line, please?" she rasped weakly.
Instead of fulfilling her request, he dropped the book and threw his arms around her neck, kissing her.
"Renee!" he shouted. "You can hear me! You're awake!"
She smiled softly. "I heard you the whole time, honey. I tried to tell you to save some of your chocolate pudding for me, but I couldn't I guess."
"Jesus, Renee," he whispered between kisses. "Even in a coma, you want dessert!"
She was kept on close watch for the next week, during which she started to eat, and even stood up without help. The doctors said she would need intense physical therapy for close to a year before she was able to walk again. She defied them, as we thought she would, and was walking on her own within two months.
Despite her reassurance, Danny walked with her everywhere he could, and was wary about her crossing the street for months after her recovery. She started teaching, instead of returning to her job, and spent her free time writing books.
Every night, when Danny came home from work, he kissed her, and they cuddled. In bed, they could not have squeezed closer together. He never let a day go by without telling her he loved her.
Within the year, she was pregnant, and the end of the summer was welcomed with baby Hannah Baker, a beautiful and healthy baby girl who is the joy of her parents' lives. One day, as I was having coffee with Renee and Danny, with Hannah swatting at the toys that hung from the top of her stroller, Danny, gripping his wife's hand, looked at her with a smile and whispered "I love you to her." She responded with a kiss, and he pulled a small box from his coat pocket.
"I bought this for you when you had your accident, but I think that now, with all that behind us, with Hannah... well, I think now is the right time." He stood up, standing her with him, and opened the box, revealing a brilliant diamond ring. He looked into her watering eyes, which stared back at him in wonder. "Renee Baker, my beautiful wife, my friend, my everything, will you marry me again?"
"Yes, Danny. Yes I will," she whispered behind tears. She stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him. I smiled, feeling tears roll down my cheeks.
They remarried the following autumn, under a golden sun and brilliant leaves.
I had to stop writing this at least three times. Writing this story made me cry.
06 February 2009
I feel like there are so many things in my life that I'm doing wrong. Like, I'm bad at Organic, Calculus, paying attention in classes, work, being a good friend/girlfriend/sister/human...
My stupid heat is broken again. Or rather, I should say, as usual. I'm so sick of it. I've put on a long sleeve shirt and a sweater and socks. I'm warm now, but I did just get out of the shower a little while ago. And I can feel heat rising to my cheeks. There's no one here to be embarrassed to, so why am I flushing? But I digress. I am simply so annoyed at the heat. It's on, and it's blowing air out, but the air is cool. Lukewarm. Like the temperature I keep my air conditioner on in the summer when I actually have it on. It's disgusting. I don't even know if it's worth it to call the physical plant again. They're probably already so sick of me calling about my heat, they'll probably lower the temperature for the room further. That'll show me, right? Whatever.
I find myself annoyed at nearly everything again. At this point, I have to wonder if I'm clinically depressed. I tell people that they're perfectly allowed to have bad days, because it's true. But with as many bad days as I seem to have... well, it can't be normal.
I guess today in itself wasn't that bad. The worst part was the cold, and having to do a job for crapping Don Kirby, who was my junky religion professor from last semester. And a I had a horrible headache all day. It's still kind of hurting, but whatever. It's better. But I had lots of delicious food, and I got paid, and got groceries and some Valentine's stuff.
Lisa and I went to the mall, and I bought a warm weather coat that I've been wanting for a long time at Hot Topic. It's the only thing I've decided to get for myself from the money Dad gave me as a yearly allowance from the taxes. I guess I'll save the rest or something. The coat is only in Medium at the mall here in town, so they had to ask another store for a large. So I haven't bought it yet, but technically I have. I'm pretty excited about it. It's a cute coat.
There's some chaos happening in my hall tonight. Very loud chaos.
I want to write. So I will
She tipped the glass back, draining its contents with a grimace. Brandy was not her favourite drink, but the frigid winter weather warranted something to warm her, and so she ordered some brandy on the rocks. Vanilla brandy, actually. The bartender saw her take it down, and came over to the place where she sat at the bar, far from everyone else, with the bottle, ready to refill her glass.
"No thanks," she whispered hoarsely. "I just needed one to keep me going tonight."
She placed some money, too much for just one brandy, on the counter, gathered her coat and scarf, and left. As soon as she stepped outside, the fierce wind, bringing a blizzard with it, blasted her in the face, screaming through her ears, distant cries of someone in pain. She shrugged her coat on, wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck, and stuffed her hands in her pockets. She had a long way to go before she got home. She hoped that the brandy kept her warm.
The bartender watched as she walked, not towards the cars, but into the woods. He shook his head; there were plenty of dangers in the streets, but walking in the woods at night was not something even the burly man would do. He could not help but wonder why she headed into the woods.
The wind was calmer in the woods, but it gave an eerie wail as it sidestepped through the trees. She was reminded of Dante's Divine Comedy, in which the character, Dante himself, heard such horrible cries and wails as he passed through the Inferno. This little town is certainly like some sort of hell. She dared not open her mouth to speak these words to herself. She knew that on nights like this, the wind would whisk your breath away as soon as you parted your lips, so she kept her head tucked into her scarf up to her nose. Her lungs still froze with each breathe she took behind the knitted barrier.
Finally, after an eternity of an hour and a half, she arrived at a little shanty. An old house, robbed of electricity and heat years ago, it was a foreboding place. Ivy crept up the walls and windows, though now, only vines stuck their tethers into the crevices in the brick. The leaves had dried and fallen months ago.
more to come, maybe.
05 February 2009
This is how I feel today. It was the best I could find for "frustrated." The rest was... porn. Or Charlie Brown. I don't feel like Charlie Brown. Today, I feel like an angry Edward Elric. At least it's a familiar face.
Today was a total disaster. I didn't get up on time, since I was [once again] too tired to get up, and slept for another half hour. Organic was... I don't know. Better than usual. At least I understood what was going on.
Philosophy sucked. I said words in the class today, which I hate doing regardless of the situation, but no one wants to comment on things the professor says. I'm sure I'm not the only human in that class who doesn't agree with the things being discussed so much so that feel compelled to actually think. Or maybe I am. Who knows? The professor just kind of answered it with "the way Sextus Empiricus would answer it," which made no sense. I didn't agree with those things either. Maybe that's why Greek philosophers are dead. [I mean famous ones, I guess.] Natural selection doesn't favour those who suck at answering questions correctly. I'm exaggerating. Natural selection has nothing to do with philosophers.
Calculus lab sucked. I was stuck with that Thomas human again, with his stupid grin. "Want to work together?" he asked, that lame shy smile from high school on his face. "Yeah. I guess." What I meant to say was "Yeah. Because Miller is going to make us anyway." I'm turning this class into a story... ew. But that's not the point. He started asking me all these questions. Like about my major, and if I read some book that probably no one has ever heard of before. And when I said "no" he replied with "I saw a kid in the hall just now who walked like the main character in that book." Um....wtf?
Dante was probably the best class today. It usually is. It's just interesting for me, and Steve Wrinn is just insane enough to make it fun. Thanks, Steve.
Then Organic lab. I don't think I can even talk about that right now. It was a mess. In short, I messed up right off the bat and had to start over. And the stupid thing took forever. And I had low blood sugar and coffee jitters. The friggin' end.
Today, I was working on Calculus homework. It's due in an hour. It's done, but the point is that I did it last minute. I hadn't planned to. I thought I would have it done by Monday. Guess what failed.
Also, I talked to Barbara Leo, my professor from Gen Chem. She said she could try to teach me NMR, since I obviously can't get it in lecture or workshop. I have to remember to send her times tomorrow.
Denny's. Lisa and I went to Denny's for dinner. It was delicious. I needed delicious. And we talked a lot. And then we talked a lot in the hallway. As it stands, Lisatime was the best part of my day. Then Dante. Then... when I go to bed in a few minutes.
I feel frustrated.
Yesterday at work, this woman called the helpdesk and yelled at me forever about some problem she had the night before, and how IT didn't help much. It was a projector problem. Classroom Services deals with projectors. Not us. Stop yelling at me. No, we are generally not supposed to leave when we are the only person on. She didn't stop yelling. She didn't let me talk. Then she said "Please look into this, okay?" and hung up. I didn't get a name, or number, or anything. I got yelled at by Joan. I wanted to hide. I hate these situations. I need to learn to deal with them better. I'm horrible at any form of confrontation.
Bed. I work at 900am tomorrow. That's already 5 1/2 hours of sleep. At least I only have calculus tomorrow. Too bad I generally fail at calculus during lectures, so I would want to sleep in the hopes of better understanding. Oh well.
02 February 2009
I've decided to try to use pictures and photographs as much as possible. I suppose they'll show my mood, or maybe it'll just be something that made me smile. It might get me writing better things again. Or at all. I don't write much anymore, and that's not good for an aspiring author.
I guess I should really start this post with the weekend. It was really great. Lisa and I talked and stuff a lot on the way to Potsdam, and sang in the car, too! It was so crazy and energetic. Until I fell asleep, anyway. I'm not really sure how it happened anymore...
When we got there, we talked and cuddled and hugged and ate and watched movies and slept in a bed apparatus that we constructed. It was wonderful to not have to sleep alone. Sleepcuddles are definitely the best kind.
We watched Blindness, which sounded really good from the trailer, but it turned out to be not very good at all. Or maybe it was just that I didn't understand it. I don't think any of us have quite decided yet.
I hated leaving. It happened so fast. Like a flash of lightning, and then came thunder, in the form of devastation, loneliness, and a feeling of almost dread.
I feel like I need to scream. Maybe at no one at all. Maybe at myself. This same part of me wants to go to bed for the next three months.
I said a while ago that I desperately need to work on my self-esteem. I tried. It's hard. I've gone no where. What am I supposed to do? It's something I'm hesitant to discuss. My failure to do anything useful about it makes me feel like a disappointment. Like when I studied for six hours for the organic exam and got a 75. Maybe I was just failing myself at that point. But this is exactly it. This is my self-esteem problem, written, right in front of me. I can identify it, write it down, think about it, dwell on it cry about it, but no matter what I do, I can't make it better. Why? Is there some... deficiency in my mind that prevents me from accurately addressing the issue? I have no idea. Maybe I'll have low self-esteem forever. It's these kind of thoughts that made me fear that someday, people will just get sick of me and I'll be alone. I hate being alone. But there I go again, I guess.
Journals are hard. They kind of force you to write things that are disturbing or painful, because they're meant for whatever thoughts come to your mind. I always feel like mine are incomplete. I close mine, and I feel like there's something more I should have written, but by the time I close it, I don't want to open it again. It's a weird philosophy, I guess.
Speaking of philosophy, in class today, we made philosophical punnett squares.
I guess I should go to bed, since I have to crapping work tomorrow. I feel like I'm working way more than I actually should I guess I kind of am, since all the problems I'm encountering these first few weeks are really time consuming. Oh well. It's moneys.
Today, Lisa introduced me to a friend:
He's adorable and fuzzy. I need to find a place for him to be happy.
We also went to Wegmans. Weggies for short and demented sounding if you try to pronounce it.