My great Aunt Chris passed away last night. I have become obsessed with death lately. I'm having a hard time imagining a life without my parents, aunts, uncles, etc. Aunt Chris was the twin sister to my Aunt Ernie who is now the only one still living on my grandfather's side. She was 89.
This song keeps running through my head by Arcade Fire. One of the band member's mother died and she wrote this song:
In The Backseat
I like the peace
in the backseat,
I don't have to drive,
I don't have to speak,
I can watch the country side,
and I can fall asleep.
My family tree's
losing all its leaves,
crashing towards the driver's seat,
the lightning bolt made enough heat
to melt the street beneath your feet.
Alice died
in the night,
I've been learning to drive.
My whole life,
I've been learning.
I like the peace
in the backseat,
I don't have to drive,
I don't have to speak,
I can watch the country side
Alice died
in the night,
I've been learning to drive.
My whole life,
I've been learn----Oh....
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
What If?
I often have these "What if" scenarios that go through my head. These aren't my day-mares, just "what if this happened, what would I do?"
The one that occupies most of my time is the "Dies The Fire" scenario. "Dies The Fire" is a book by S. M. Stirling where one day everything stops working. It's not an EMP, so one really knows what's happened, but technology ceases to work in any way. Oh, and guns are out. Apparently the laws of physics have changed ever so slightly to where gun powder just sizzles and doesn't explode. So, no guns. Everyone is back to riding bicycles and killing each other with swords and bow and arrows. There are even Zombies. Ok, not ZOMBIE zombies. Just people run out of food and, well, some start eating other people.
My particular "what-if" is kind of like this. Nothing works. If this really happened I wouldn't live very long being an insulin dependent Type 1 Diabetic. So I guess I should really ask myself why I even bother thinking about it? Because my brain doesn't listen to me.
If something happens where nothing works I'm pretty screwed. We don't own any bicycles. We don't own a sword or any bow and arrows. We don't have access to fresh water. At least Paul can make a fire from nothing and hunt so we may be able to eat. I think the first order of business would be to get out of the city since that is where all the zombies will live. Anarchy will reign supreme and the weak will become stew. If we could get out to the lake house (on foot?) at least we'd have water and fish... for a while. We'd have to devise some plan for defense since we will constantly be defending our little plot of land. We'd have to find others and band together. Build a wall maybe. To be a vital part of the new Tribe each of us would need a "Talent" to prove that we were viable and not obsolete. I have no Talent that doesn't include a computer. Paul has had a little survival training and the boys are the future guardians and providers, so they would get to remain. Farmers, cooks, crofters, fighters, metal workers, engineers and women of child bearing age will be desperately needed. I possess none of these abilities. I fear that I'd make a tasty addition to the stew pot.
The one that occupies most of my time is the "Dies The Fire" scenario. "Dies The Fire" is a book by S. M. Stirling where one day everything stops working. It's not an EMP, so one really knows what's happened, but technology ceases to work in any way. Oh, and guns are out. Apparently the laws of physics have changed ever so slightly to where gun powder just sizzles and doesn't explode. So, no guns. Everyone is back to riding bicycles and killing each other with swords and bow and arrows. There are even Zombies. Ok, not ZOMBIE zombies. Just people run out of food and, well, some start eating other people.
My particular "what-if" is kind of like this. Nothing works. If this really happened I wouldn't live very long being an insulin dependent Type 1 Diabetic. So I guess I should really ask myself why I even bother thinking about it? Because my brain doesn't listen to me.
If something happens where nothing works I'm pretty screwed. We don't own any bicycles. We don't own a sword or any bow and arrows. We don't have access to fresh water. At least Paul can make a fire from nothing and hunt so we may be able to eat. I think the first order of business would be to get out of the city since that is where all the zombies will live. Anarchy will reign supreme and the weak will become stew. If we could get out to the lake house (on foot?) at least we'd have water and fish... for a while. We'd have to devise some plan for defense since we will constantly be defending our little plot of land. We'd have to find others and band together. Build a wall maybe. To be a vital part of the new Tribe each of us would need a "Talent" to prove that we were viable and not obsolete. I have no Talent that doesn't include a computer. Paul has had a little survival training and the boys are the future guardians and providers, so they would get to remain. Farmers, cooks, crofters, fighters, metal workers, engineers and women of child bearing age will be desperately needed. I possess none of these abilities. I fear that I'd make a tasty addition to the stew pot.
Monday, November 28, 2011
You Worry Too Much
I often hear the phrase "You worry too much". Aside from stating the obvious, it's not terribly helpful advice. I worry too much. Yes, it's true, I worry about everything and it's becoming worse over time.
I worry about small things and large things. My worries make their way into my dreams at night and my day-mares. I become paralyzed with indecision which makes me feel impotent. What could be so bad? I'm aware that this is ridiculous, but I can't seem to knock myself out of it.
Here are few things I worry about every single day.
I worry that when Paul and the boys leave in the morning that it will be the last time I ever see them. I worry that every time I get into the car I'm playing Russian roulette, and this time may be my last. I worry that someone will steal my beautiful boys and that I would rather die than go on living. I worry that I'm a terrible mother and I'll somehow screw my kids up. I worry something will happen to my parents and that I won't be around to help them. I worry about why I haven't heard from friends and family in a while. I worry that I've done something wrong. I worry about people thinking I'm an idiot, when all I ever do is try my best. I worry that my best will never be good enough. I worry about money. I worry that I won't be able to provide for my parent's retirement in a way that will keep them out of a careless nursing home. I worry that we'll never be able to sell this house so my kids can go to a better school. I worry that if we can't sell this house then we won't be able to move to Rockwall where I can better look after my parents. I worry about whether there is a God, and then I worry that, by just having made the thought, I'm going to Hell. I worry about not being around long enough to see my boys grow up. I worry that I'm going to develop Glaucoma too soon. I worry that I could get a batch of bad insulin and fall into a coma. I worry that when I go to bed at night I may never wake up. I worry that no one would really care. I worry that by just typing out these thoughts that they could come true.
There are more, but these are the ones that occupy my daily thoughts.
I worry about small things and large things. My worries make their way into my dreams at night and my day-mares. I become paralyzed with indecision which makes me feel impotent. What could be so bad? I'm aware that this is ridiculous, but I can't seem to knock myself out of it.
Here are few things I worry about every single day.
I worry that when Paul and the boys leave in the morning that it will be the last time I ever see them. I worry that every time I get into the car I'm playing Russian roulette, and this time may be my last. I worry that someone will steal my beautiful boys and that I would rather die than go on living. I worry that I'm a terrible mother and I'll somehow screw my kids up. I worry something will happen to my parents and that I won't be around to help them. I worry about why I haven't heard from friends and family in a while. I worry that I've done something wrong. I worry about people thinking I'm an idiot, when all I ever do is try my best. I worry that my best will never be good enough. I worry about money. I worry that I won't be able to provide for my parent's retirement in a way that will keep them out of a careless nursing home. I worry that we'll never be able to sell this house so my kids can go to a better school. I worry that if we can't sell this house then we won't be able to move to Rockwall where I can better look after my parents. I worry about whether there is a God, and then I worry that, by just having made the thought, I'm going to Hell. I worry about not being around long enough to see my boys grow up. I worry that I'm going to develop Glaucoma too soon. I worry that I could get a batch of bad insulin and fall into a coma. I worry that when I go to bed at night I may never wake up. I worry that no one would really care. I worry that by just typing out these thoughts that they could come true.
There are more, but these are the ones that occupy my daily thoughts.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Dinner With Aliens
Dreams - Inner Self
I recently had a dream where I realized that there was a room in my house that I'd never noticed before. It was quite big and I was a little annoyed that I hadn't seen it before. It really would have been helpful when the boys were younger! I also realized that every other room in the house opened up to this one. How had I never seen it before? It was fully furnished but a little untidy. But it wasn't filthy.
This reminded me of another dream I had when I was living in Tyler, Texas. I was probably about 24 years old at the time.
I was looking for my sister. Something had happened and she ran in fear to hid. I was desperately searching for her when I came upon an abandoned house. It was old but probably beautiful in it's day. And with a little love it could be again.
I tried to peek in the windows to see if I could see my sister, but the windows had a film on them and I couldn't see anything. So I found an opening and crawled inside.
It was FILTHY. There was no color and the entire house was covered in a dark grey, dirty film. Every single piece of furniture was broken. I realized I couldn't see into the house from the windows because they were covered in this strange dust.
I heard my sister and ran into the room where I thought I heard the sound. It was difficult moving around because there was so much dirt and broken furniture. All I remember is that I never did find her and I couldn't find my way back out. I was forever locked inside that house.
I actually looked up something about what dreams meant and found that the house was supposedly really me. The exterior was how others perceived me and the interior is how I perceive myself. This made some sense to me since, at the time, I felt broken and dirty.
The fact that I'm now dreaming of a nice, big room that isn't insanely destroyed gives me comfort. Instead of being dirty and broken, I'm just untidy. And the improvement only took 20 years. :-)
This reminded me of another dream I had when I was living in Tyler, Texas. I was probably about 24 years old at the time.
I was looking for my sister. Something had happened and she ran in fear to hid. I was desperately searching for her when I came upon an abandoned house. It was old but probably beautiful in it's day. And with a little love it could be again.
I tried to peek in the windows to see if I could see my sister, but the windows had a film on them and I couldn't see anything. So I found an opening and crawled inside.
It was FILTHY. There was no color and the entire house was covered in a dark grey, dirty film. Every single piece of furniture was broken. I realized I couldn't see into the house from the windows because they were covered in this strange dust.
I heard my sister and ran into the room where I thought I heard the sound. It was difficult moving around because there was so much dirt and broken furniture. All I remember is that I never did find her and I couldn't find my way back out. I was forever locked inside that house.
I actually looked up something about what dreams meant and found that the house was supposedly really me. The exterior was how others perceived me and the interior is how I perceive myself. This made some sense to me since, at the time, I felt broken and dirty.
The fact that I'm now dreaming of a nice, big room that isn't insanely destroyed gives me comfort. Instead of being dirty and broken, I'm just untidy. And the improvement only took 20 years. :-)
Monday, November 21, 2011
Dreams - Pink Floyd
I've had quite a few dreams in my lifetime that have never left me. These are dreams I remember and worry about from time to time. While I am not psychic in ANY way, I still think about what my subconscious might have been trying to tell me.
Several years ago when I was in my 20s I was having re-occurring nightmares involving catastrophic events caused by me. I never intended these things to happen, but from some random, small mistake I had caused this diabolical thing to happen.
I call this one Pink Floyd.
I was in a car - a sports car with leather interior and I was sitting on the "hump" or the in-between space in the small, but very roomy backseat. Sitting in the passenger side was a "dark man". He was dirty and dressed in rags. He had a hood over his head and I couldn't see his face. The driver was a big brown Grizzly bear. I was holding a straw. I was watching the landscape go by as we drove down a scenic road. We were speeding, but I wasn't afraid and the landscape was very beautiful. We did not pass any cars at all.
We made a turn and stopped the car. The Bear and Dark Man turned to me. I remembered. We had made a pact. We were to sacrifice ourselves into the straw and bring forth Pink Floyd. And in case you were wondering, Pink Floyd is The Beast.
The Bear started to dematerialize and his essence flowed into the straw. The Dark Man did the same thing. The entire car then dematerialized and entered into the straw. I was left alone, staring into the straw head and I realized that this is wrong. Why was I here? I couldn't do this thing. I wouldn't do this thing. What the HELL was wrong with me???
As soon as I made the decision not to complete the ritual, screams started to come out of the straw. The Bear and Dark Man were screaming. They were being tortured because of me, because I wouldn't finish the ritual and bring forth Pink Floyd. So, I guess PF was pissed. Water started shooting out of the straw. Well, it wasn't really water. I knew it was really blood. It just looked like water.
I started running, but I didn't have anywhere to go. And the straw started to grow. Pink Floyd was coming anyways. He found a way out without my help. And he was coming for me.
I somehow found a city and I ran downtown. Everywhere I looked there were children running around. There were no adults. The children all had guns and they were shooting at anything and everything. I stopped one kid as he ran by me and shouted at him to stop shooting his gun. Floyd was on his way and everyone needed to hide. The kid just looked at me and said, "These aren't real. They're filled with water. See?" And then he shot himself in the head.
I woke up.
Several years ago when I was in my 20s I was having re-occurring nightmares involving catastrophic events caused by me. I never intended these things to happen, but from some random, small mistake I had caused this diabolical thing to happen.
I call this one Pink Floyd.
I was in a car - a sports car with leather interior and I was sitting on the "hump" or the in-between space in the small, but very roomy backseat. Sitting in the passenger side was a "dark man". He was dirty and dressed in rags. He had a hood over his head and I couldn't see his face. The driver was a big brown Grizzly bear. I was holding a straw. I was watching the landscape go by as we drove down a scenic road. We were speeding, but I wasn't afraid and the landscape was very beautiful. We did not pass any cars at all.
We made a turn and stopped the car. The Bear and Dark Man turned to me. I remembered. We had made a pact. We were to sacrifice ourselves into the straw and bring forth Pink Floyd. And in case you were wondering, Pink Floyd is The Beast.
The Bear started to dematerialize and his essence flowed into the straw. The Dark Man did the same thing. The entire car then dematerialized and entered into the straw. I was left alone, staring into the straw head and I realized that this is wrong. Why was I here? I couldn't do this thing. I wouldn't do this thing. What the HELL was wrong with me???
As soon as I made the decision not to complete the ritual, screams started to come out of the straw. The Bear and Dark Man were screaming. They were being tortured because of me, because I wouldn't finish the ritual and bring forth Pink Floyd. So, I guess PF was pissed. Water started shooting out of the straw. Well, it wasn't really water. I knew it was really blood. It just looked like water.
I started running, but I didn't have anywhere to go. And the straw started to grow. Pink Floyd was coming anyways. He found a way out without my help. And he was coming for me.
I somehow found a city and I ran downtown. Everywhere I looked there were children running around. There were no adults. The children all had guns and they were shooting at anything and everything. I stopped one kid as he ran by me and shouted at him to stop shooting his gun. Floyd was on his way and everyone needed to hide. The kid just looked at me and said, "These aren't real. They're filled with water. See?" And then he shot himself in the head.
I woke up.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Friday Morning Woes
My sister suggested I blog about this. I suppose she found my grief amusing :-)
My day started poorly with Christopher waking up at 4:00am. I put him in bed with us and he fell right back asleep, but I never sleep when he's in bed with us. So, I've been up since 4.
I had a harder time than normal getting ready this morning. Chris wanted to be held and, since Daddy was cooking his casserole for his pot luck at work, I got behind getting ready. It's difficult applying mascara with a toddler attached to your hip.
While getting ready, I sliced my nail to the quick (and it freaking HURTS) on an opened razor in my makeup bag that shouldn't have been there in the first place. How the hell did it get there???
Dropping the boys off, a car stopped in the driveway to let me pass and he got honked at by an impatient person wanting to back out his parking space - which made me feel bad.
When leaving, I always do a U-y at Walnut Hill and Church. While waiting for the light to change I decided to drink my tea. I didn't have the lid screwed on all the way and dumped nearly the entire thermos on me. My finger still hurts and I'm now covered in tea. There were no napkins in the center console of the car, but there were some on the passenger floor. I put the car in neutral to bend over to pick some up. The light turned green and I'd forgotten to put the car back into drive, so when I tried to go I just revved. The mean man behind me laid on his horn and hurt my feelings and made me cry.
The radio started playing the Smashing Pumpkin's "Today is the greatest, the greatest day I've ever known" - so now the Universe and possibly the Multiverse is mocking me.
After getting my Starbucks and calming down, I started to pull away from the window and some douche bag decided to pull out of his parking space at the speed of light and I had to slam on my breaks to keep from hitting him.... spilling the entire contents of my open purse on the floorboard.
Silver lining? I still have my Starbucks, but I have a nearly severed finger, mascara running down my face, wet tea all over me, and I'm cold from spending 10 minutes in the office parking lot trying to locate all the contents of my purse in the floorboard of the passenger seat. AND it's not even 8:00am yet.
Oh, icing on the cake... I left my phone at home so I can't play Words With Friends all day. And now I'm crying again.
My day started poorly with Christopher waking up at 4:00am. I put him in bed with us and he fell right back asleep, but I never sleep when he's in bed with us. So, I've been up since 4.
I had a harder time than normal getting ready this morning. Chris wanted to be held and, since Daddy was cooking his casserole for his pot luck at work, I got behind getting ready. It's difficult applying mascara with a toddler attached to your hip.
While getting ready, I sliced my nail to the quick (and it freaking HURTS) on an opened razor in my makeup bag that shouldn't have been there in the first place. How the hell did it get there???
Dropping the boys off, a car stopped in the driveway to let me pass and he got honked at by an impatient person wanting to back out his parking space - which made me feel bad.
When leaving, I always do a U-y at Walnut Hill and Church. While waiting for the light to change I decided to drink my tea. I didn't have the lid screwed on all the way and dumped nearly the entire thermos on me. My finger still hurts and I'm now covered in tea. There were no napkins in the center console of the car, but there were some on the passenger floor. I put the car in neutral to bend over to pick some up. The light turned green and I'd forgotten to put the car back into drive, so when I tried to go I just revved. The mean man behind me laid on his horn and hurt my feelings and made me cry.
The radio started playing the Smashing Pumpkin's "Today is the greatest, the greatest day I've ever known" - so now the Universe and possibly the Multiverse is mocking me.
After getting my Starbucks and calming down, I started to pull away from the window and some douche bag decided to pull out of his parking space at the speed of light and I had to slam on my breaks to keep from hitting him.... spilling the entire contents of my open purse on the floorboard.
Silver lining? I still have my Starbucks, but I have a nearly severed finger, mascara running down my face, wet tea all over me, and I'm cold from spending 10 minutes in the office parking lot trying to locate all the contents of my purse in the floorboard of the passenger seat. AND it's not even 8:00am yet.
Oh, icing on the cake... I left my phone at home so I can't play Words With Friends all day. And now I'm crying again.
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