There was no warning. It could have just as easily been me.
As I pulled up to the beginning of that sharp curve in Shadyside Road, I saw a stopped car and beyond that red, twisted metal and broken glass that once was a red car. I fearfully got out of my car, and walked up to the wreckage to ask:
Is anybody hurt?
The man who had been driving the red car was not hurt, but his clothes were speckled with blood from the bits of glass that had dug into his skin. He was about 40 years old, and his worried, startled forehead wrinkled in a sexy kind of way. There was a cut there on his brow and another one on his left cheek, with small streams of red flowing down his face. He said that he had been wearing his glasses and was worried about having glass in his eyes. We found a towel in his car and I helped him to stop the slight bleeding and clean up a bit. After that he couldn’t stand still and began pacing back and forth in the middle of the road. I asked the lady in the car behind me to call 911 and then I went back to talk to the man.
And then all the lights came flashing. Blue and yellow. White and red. Incessantly flashing. And in their flashing I felt the question:
Is anybody hurt?
Another car, further ahead in the turn, was up on the left shoulder of the road…nearly up on the railroad tracks. It had come to rest on its side, with headlights gazing in directions that they should not. I could not see the color in the dark, but I could see the smoke pouring out from the wreckage. And I was too afraid to walk up to it. Too afraid of what I might find. Lucky for me, the people in the green car just ahead of me had decided to do what I was afraid to do. To walk up and ask:
Is anybody hurt?
Cars in a row, waiting behind me with headlights glaring.
One by one those lights dimmed and the people got out of their cars, one by one.
A sporadic procession came forth. A waitress in her brown apron and then a cashier in her bright red smock. An older couple in khaki shorts holding hands. A middle-aged mother and her pre-teen daughter. A man with his infant son. All of them walking down the side of the road to ask:
Is anybody hurt?
More lights came. All orange now. They announced the arrival of a couple of wrecking trucks come to tow the crushed vehicles away.
But the thing that struck me the most about the whole incident was the quiet. When I first arrived there was nothing but the sounds of the crickets and my car engine. Even after the police came, and the firefighters, and the paramedics, and even the wreckers, all that you could hear were the sounds of crickets chirping, the calm, professional voices of the emergency crew, and the steady rumble of engines.
And somehow I never found out if anyone was hurt.
I want somebody who sees the pointlessness and still keeps their purpose in mind;
I want somebody who has a tortured soul...some of the time;
I want somebody who will either put out for me
or put me out of misery;
Or maybe just put it all to words and make me say, "You know, I never heard it put that way".
Make me say, "What did you just say?"
~Ani Difranco "Asking Too Much"
Saturday, June 29, 2002
Wednesday, June 26, 2002
Merrily, merrily, merrily...Life is but a dream...
Dreams. Dreams are strange, strange things.
Some dreams are pure whimsy and nonsense…just my brain letting off steam.
Others are directly related to the desires and/or fears of my waking life.
Some that I’ve had have been prophetic. Others…the Nightmares…are just
pure terror that by brain throws together to make sure that my heart can still
race with fright. There are some that seem so close to reality, you’d swear
you really did the things you dreamed. And then there are those that are just
plain humorous. So humorous, in fact, that I sometimes wake myself up laughing.:)
I had one such dream a couple of nights ago. I think I scared the shit out of Ben, breaking the quiet of the morning with my full, body-shaking laughter. I suppose it must be kind of creepy…everything being still and then the person sleeping beside you bursts into laughter for no apparent reason. :) Poor guy.
Anyway, I’m blogging this because I know you guys will get a kick out of the dream.
Don’t worry…no one is being skinned in this one.
The dream begins with Ben and I walking through the door of our friends’ new apartment in Lexington. We’ve come to visit and help the boys get settled into their new place. Shawn went out to pick up some pizza for us all to munch on, so only Ken and Chris are there when we arrive.
It seems like a nice, very large apartment with two levels, beige carpet, and off-white walls. Ben and I walk into the living room to find Chris sitting on a plump, blue sofa and Ken sitting on the floor. It appears that they’ve both broken into a bottle of some sort of liquor. (Scotch?) And Ken is pretty well drunk, while Chris seems fairly sober. The boys have just moved in so there are boxes everywhere, some unopened, some half-unpacked, some totally empty except for packing peanuts and newspaper.
After everyone greets everyone, Ben and I sit with them and chat. We haven’t had any dinner so we’re all really hungry. In fact, on the way in Ben and I were so hungry we stopped and bought a box of generic cereal at a gas station. It was a cereal sort of like Fruity Peebles (just as colorful and fruity) but it also had brightly colored marshmallow dinosaurs in it. So I’m still munching on this cereal as we’re talking, waiting on Shawn to come back w/ the pizza.
Well, in a fit of silliness, Chris jerks the box from my hands, sending a bit of the cereal flying up into the air, to land on him and on the couch. He then starts mocking the fact that I have generic cereal…and then makes fun of the toy that the box says is inside. The toy is some sort of little man.
“There’s a man in every box! There’s a man in every box!” Chris repeats over and over with a crazed look in his eye and a high-pitched squeak to his voice.
Ken takes up the chant and then holds his index finger, pointed skyward, in front of his mouth and lets out a loud, “SSSHHHHHHH!!!!!!”
Then he dramatically stands up and takes the box from Chris’s hands and holds it up close to his face.
“Don’t you see?” he says. “There’s a man in every box! There’s a man in every box! There’s a man in every box!”
And then he throws the cereal down and runs and jumps head first into a large box at the far end of the room. As Ken’s mass pushes into the box, little white packing peanuts come violently flying out. Once Ken’s dive is done, all you can see of him are his legs and feet hanging out of the box. He makes no move to get out and just lays there cackling.
Ben, Chris, and I are rolling with laughter. And this is when I woke myself up actually laughing.
Okay…so maybe it’s not all that funny. Maybe you just had to be there. :)
At any rate, we can now proceed to the dream analysis. What does the generic cereal represent? What do the packing peanuts represent? NOT A GODDAMNED THING IF NOT CEREAL AND MOTHA’ FUCKING PACKING PEANUTS!!!!!
You see, this dream is about having fun being silly with my friends. It means that I miss my friends and anticipate the day that we’re all a little closer together so that we can do stupid shit together! :)
I love you guys and I miss you!!!! Here’s to good times in the future!!!!!
Dreams. Dreams are strange, strange things.
Some dreams are pure whimsy and nonsense…just my brain letting off steam.
Others are directly related to the desires and/or fears of my waking life.
Some that I’ve had have been prophetic. Others…the Nightmares…are just
pure terror that by brain throws together to make sure that my heart can still
race with fright. There are some that seem so close to reality, you’d swear
you really did the things you dreamed. And then there are those that are just
plain humorous. So humorous, in fact, that I sometimes wake myself up laughing.:)
I had one such dream a couple of nights ago. I think I scared the shit out of Ben, breaking the quiet of the morning with my full, body-shaking laughter. I suppose it must be kind of creepy…everything being still and then the person sleeping beside you bursts into laughter for no apparent reason. :) Poor guy.
Anyway, I’m blogging this because I know you guys will get a kick out of the dream.
Don’t worry…no one is being skinned in this one.
The dream begins with Ben and I walking through the door of our friends’ new apartment in Lexington. We’ve come to visit and help the boys get settled into their new place. Shawn went out to pick up some pizza for us all to munch on, so only Ken and Chris are there when we arrive.
It seems like a nice, very large apartment with two levels, beige carpet, and off-white walls. Ben and I walk into the living room to find Chris sitting on a plump, blue sofa and Ken sitting on the floor. It appears that they’ve both broken into a bottle of some sort of liquor. (Scotch?) And Ken is pretty well drunk, while Chris seems fairly sober. The boys have just moved in so there are boxes everywhere, some unopened, some half-unpacked, some totally empty except for packing peanuts and newspaper.
After everyone greets everyone, Ben and I sit with them and chat. We haven’t had any dinner so we’re all really hungry. In fact, on the way in Ben and I were so hungry we stopped and bought a box of generic cereal at a gas station. It was a cereal sort of like Fruity Peebles (just as colorful and fruity) but it also had brightly colored marshmallow dinosaurs in it. So I’m still munching on this cereal as we’re talking, waiting on Shawn to come back w/ the pizza.
Well, in a fit of silliness, Chris jerks the box from my hands, sending a bit of the cereal flying up into the air, to land on him and on the couch. He then starts mocking the fact that I have generic cereal…and then makes fun of the toy that the box says is inside. The toy is some sort of little man.
“There’s a man in every box! There’s a man in every box!” Chris repeats over and over with a crazed look in his eye and a high-pitched squeak to his voice.
Ken takes up the chant and then holds his index finger, pointed skyward, in front of his mouth and lets out a loud, “SSSHHHHHHH!!!!!!”
Then he dramatically stands up and takes the box from Chris’s hands and holds it up close to his face.
“Don’t you see?” he says. “There’s a man in every box! There’s a man in every box! There’s a man in every box!”
And then he throws the cereal down and runs and jumps head first into a large box at the far end of the room. As Ken’s mass pushes into the box, little white packing peanuts come violently flying out. Once Ken’s dive is done, all you can see of him are his legs and feet hanging out of the box. He makes no move to get out and just lays there cackling.
Ben, Chris, and I are rolling with laughter. And this is when I woke myself up actually laughing.
Okay…so maybe it’s not all that funny. Maybe you just had to be there. :)
At any rate, we can now proceed to the dream analysis. What does the generic cereal represent? What do the packing peanuts represent? NOT A GODDAMNED THING IF NOT CEREAL AND MOTHA’ FUCKING PACKING PEANUTS!!!!!
You see, this dream is about having fun being silly with my friends. It means that I miss my friends and anticipate the day that we’re all a little closer together so that we can do stupid shit together! :)
I love you guys and I miss you!!!! Here’s to good times in the future!!!!!
Sunday, June 23, 2002
Today was Ben’s 25th birthday. We had a cookout at his Mom’s house, with his
entire family and some of mine. On the whole it was a very enjoyable day and,
of course, the food was fantastic and plentiful. :)
There was volleyball and badminton and there were water guns. And there
were mothers and fathers and children and babies. And there was cake
with ice cream and a table loaded with presents. And margaritas!!!!
Tonight, after everyone had gone home, Shawn, Ben, Charlotte, and I sat
out on the screened-in back porch and talked and told each other jokes
and laughed. The moon was so full and bright so the sky was a deep,
midnight blue…not black. The fireflies were furiously sparkling in the
trees and the grass. :) When I saw that I thought, “No wonder people
believed in faeries.”
It was a good day.
Happy Birthday, Baby.
“Into your arms I will run
Soft limbs browned by the sun
And in your heart I will hide
Gleaning peace from the love in your eyes.”
~ c.g. from Not a god
entire family and some of mine. On the whole it was a very enjoyable day and,
of course, the food was fantastic and plentiful. :)
There was volleyball and badminton and there were water guns. And there
were mothers and fathers and children and babies. And there was cake
with ice cream and a table loaded with presents. And margaritas!!!!
Tonight, after everyone had gone home, Shawn, Ben, Charlotte, and I sat
out on the screened-in back porch and talked and told each other jokes
and laughed. The moon was so full and bright so the sky was a deep,
midnight blue…not black. The fireflies were furiously sparkling in the
trees and the grass. :) When I saw that I thought, “No wonder people
believed in faeries.”
It was a good day.
Happy Birthday, Baby.
“Into your arms I will run
Soft limbs browned by the sun
And in your heart I will hide
Gleaning peace from the love in your eyes.”
~ c.g. from Not a god
Thursday, June 20, 2002
Dream A Little Dream
And so my fucked up nightmares seem to have started up again. For those of you
not familiar with the nightmares I've had in the past...well let's just say that they
can get pretty horrifying and gory.
Anyway, last night I had this dream that I was hanging out at mine and Ben's
apartment with these three chicks and we were maybe a little younger than I
am now. Maybe 19 or so? And so, this guy comes over that was, at one
time, involved with one of these girls in a love relationship. (Keep in mind that
I have no idea who these women are. Not real life friends at all.)
The guy had ended the relationship with this girl in a bad way and she was a
bit pissed about the whole thing, but showing a friendly front to him. So
these people are all in my living room chatting and laughing and I go down-
stairs for something. I'm halfway down the stairs when I hear the sounds of
struggle coming from upstairs and I hear the guy let out a horrible scream.
I'm too stunned to do anything and too terrified, so I just back up against the
wall and slide down and listen to my friends murder this guy in my living room.
When I do finally go upstairs, somehow all the blood has been cleaned up
and the body has been disposed of. The only thing that remains is a large
sack which contains the guy's possessions and clothing...and his skin.
The girls skinned him after they killed him. My friend asks me to keep this
sack until she can come back for it and I, disoriented and too terrified
to say no, agree.
I put the sack in the back of the little closet in the living room, with the
beanbag, stuffed animals, and Christmas wrapping paper. I'm very paranoid
...terrified that Ben will find out and hate me. Terrified that the police will find
out. Terrified at what I was doing...covering up a murder that was committed
in my house by my friend.
Being paranoid, I act all freaky when Ben goes to get something out of that
closet a few days later.He knows that I'm hiding something from him in
there and decides to search the whole thing. He eventually finds the bag
with the human skin. It's getting a little rank, now too.
He is obviously disgusted, frightened, and angry with me at first. Then I
explained what happened, and how fast it all happened, and how I just
didn't know what to do. So he believes me and decides to help me.
Then we started to consider our options. Could we go to the police?
Would the police believe us if we told them about it? Would I get away
without being convicted as a murderer? And it had been several days
at this point with no word from my murderer friend. She probably wasn't
coming back. We decided that we had to get rid of this bag.
But where? Where could we dump it and not have it connected to us?
Well...then the police became involved. A missing person investigation
started on the guy and since our place was the last place he was seen
alive...the cops came interview me. Luckily Ben was out with the sack
of skin trying to find a good place to dump it, so when they searched
the house they found nothing and I made up some story about the
guy leaving about an hour after he arrived. (which wasn't altogether
untrue...he just didn't leave alive.)
So the cops leave and Ben comes back with the sack in hand.
No luck. He decides that we're going to have to call in the help of
his family and has his sister fly down from Chicago. Once here we
show her the skin and tell her the story. The story spreads through
Ben's entire family and before I know it, they're all terrifed of me.
I tried to tell them that I didn't do it...that my friend did, but they
somehow don't believe the girl who has a sack of human skin in her closet.
And then I woke up.
Fucked up.
And so my fucked up nightmares seem to have started up again. For those of you
not familiar with the nightmares I've had in the past...well let's just say that they
can get pretty horrifying and gory.
Anyway, last night I had this dream that I was hanging out at mine and Ben's
apartment with these three chicks and we were maybe a little younger than I
am now. Maybe 19 or so? And so, this guy comes over that was, at one
time, involved with one of these girls in a love relationship. (Keep in mind that
I have no idea who these women are. Not real life friends at all.)
The guy had ended the relationship with this girl in a bad way and she was a
bit pissed about the whole thing, but showing a friendly front to him. So
these people are all in my living room chatting and laughing and I go down-
stairs for something. I'm halfway down the stairs when I hear the sounds of
struggle coming from upstairs and I hear the guy let out a horrible scream.
I'm too stunned to do anything and too terrified, so I just back up against the
wall and slide down and listen to my friends murder this guy in my living room.
When I do finally go upstairs, somehow all the blood has been cleaned up
and the body has been disposed of. The only thing that remains is a large
sack which contains the guy's possessions and clothing...and his skin.
The girls skinned him after they killed him. My friend asks me to keep this
sack until she can come back for it and I, disoriented and too terrified
to say no, agree.
I put the sack in the back of the little closet in the living room, with the
beanbag, stuffed animals, and Christmas wrapping paper. I'm very paranoid
...terrified that Ben will find out and hate me. Terrified that the police will find
out. Terrified at what I was doing...covering up a murder that was committed
in my house by my friend.
Being paranoid, I act all freaky when Ben goes to get something out of that
closet a few days later.He knows that I'm hiding something from him in
there and decides to search the whole thing. He eventually finds the bag
with the human skin. It's getting a little rank, now too.
He is obviously disgusted, frightened, and angry with me at first. Then I
explained what happened, and how fast it all happened, and how I just
didn't know what to do. So he believes me and decides to help me.
Then we started to consider our options. Could we go to the police?
Would the police believe us if we told them about it? Would I get away
without being convicted as a murderer? And it had been several days
at this point with no word from my murderer friend. She probably wasn't
coming back. We decided that we had to get rid of this bag.
But where? Where could we dump it and not have it connected to us?
Well...then the police became involved. A missing person investigation
started on the guy and since our place was the last place he was seen
alive...the cops came interview me. Luckily Ben was out with the sack
of skin trying to find a good place to dump it, so when they searched
the house they found nothing and I made up some story about the
guy leaving about an hour after he arrived. (which wasn't altogether
untrue...he just didn't leave alive.)
So the cops leave and Ben comes back with the sack in hand.
No luck. He decides that we're going to have to call in the help of
his family and has his sister fly down from Chicago. Once here we
show her the skin and tell her the story. The story spreads through
Ben's entire family and before I know it, they're all terrifed of me.
I tried to tell them that I didn't do it...that my friend did, but they
somehow don't believe the girl who has a sack of human skin in her closet.
And then I woke up.
Fucked up.
Wednesday, June 19, 2002
Well, I haven't slit my wrists open so you can cheer or cry as you see fit.
I'm feeling much better. The whole depressive episode sprang from some issues
that Benjamin and I are working out. We've had a very...interesting relationship.
Sometimes perfect...sometimes hell. I suppose it's like that with most people.
But a nice long heart to heart and a cry did wonders. Now I even feel hopeful. :)
Alright, nothing more to say, I guess. Just wanted the world to know I'm not dead. Not yet. :)
"It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine, everything (everything) will be allright (alright)."
~ Jimmy Eat World from the song The Middle on their Bleed American CD
I'm feeling much better. The whole depressive episode sprang from some issues
that Benjamin and I are working out. We've had a very...interesting relationship.
Sometimes perfect...sometimes hell. I suppose it's like that with most people.
But a nice long heart to heart and a cry did wonders. Now I even feel hopeful. :)
Alright, nothing more to say, I guess. Just wanted the world to know I'm not dead. Not yet. :)
"It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine, everything (everything) will be allright (alright)."
~ Jimmy Eat World from the song The Middle on their Bleed American CD
Monday, June 17, 2002
I am in desperate need of Prozac, Zoloft, or some friend action.
I have been so melancholy all freaking weekend. What the hell is wrong with me?
Isn’t the time for mental breakdowns over? I mean, I’m actually out of school now…shouldn’t I have had one while I was struggling to get through?
Maybe I was pushing and pushing and pushing so hard to finish that I just didn’t have time to feel anything. I think that’s true. Push it all away…worry about it tomorrow.
I should know that’s not healthy behavior, considering what B.A. the College of Liberal Arts awarded me.
But now I feel. And I feel…empty. All except for a dull ache in the place where my heart should be.
Well, at least I haven’t gotten to the point where I’ve stopped bathing. When that happens I give you all permission to douse me with Clorox and spray me down with the water hose.
I have been so melancholy all freaking weekend. What the hell is wrong with me?
Isn’t the time for mental breakdowns over? I mean, I’m actually out of school now…shouldn’t I have had one while I was struggling to get through?
Maybe I was pushing and pushing and pushing so hard to finish that I just didn’t have time to feel anything. I think that’s true. Push it all away…worry about it tomorrow.
I should know that’s not healthy behavior, considering what B.A. the College of Liberal Arts awarded me.
But now I feel. And I feel…empty. All except for a dull ache in the place where my heart should be.
Well, at least I haven’t gotten to the point where I’ve stopped bathing. When that happens I give you all permission to douse me with Clorox and spray me down with the water hose.
Friday, June 14, 2002
Ben and I went to a carnival at St. Albans mall this evening.
We rode five rides in all and topped it off with some cotton candy. Poor Ben got a bit nauseous…I suppose his age is catching up with him at long last. But with all of the twisting of the Tornado and the G-force of the Hurricane and me slamming into him repeatedly on the Sizzler (a Scrambler rip-off), it’s truly no wonder that the poor guy got a little ill.
The Sizzler was our third ride and while zooming around and around and laughing and watching the multitude of flashing, brightly colored lights…I found my way back to a memory of me at about 6 or 7 years-old.
I was at a carnival with my Mom, my Grandma, my Uncle Roy, and my siblings. I had forever been “too little” to ride anything but at long last I was able to ride the tiny Scrambler!!! My brother rode it with me and I remember slinging around and laughing, and watching the lights. I don’t recall exactly what was going through my mind…only that I was blissful at that moment. That was the most exciting thing that had happened in my short life up to that point. It was so exhilarating and I felt so free. :) To be that innocent and carefree again.
After the ride, my Uncle Roy, played the dart game where you try to pop the balloons to win a prize for me. Uncle Roy was about 45 years old then…maybe 50…his hair was salt and pepper gray, his hairline was receding, and he wore thick rectangular glasses.
He is a Vietnam Veteran who is entirely too obsessed with the Rambo and Rocky movie series. And he only has three fingers on one hand. One of his favorite sayings is “I got three. How many you got?”
(He lost his fingers as a child. His older brother, Frank, was chopping wood and Roy kept sticking his hand out in front of the axe, daring Frank to cut him. Frank, who had a quick temper and had been fending off his pesky little brother for over an hour, finally lost his patience. He told Roy, “The next time you put your hand down there, I’m chopping anyway. I’ve to get this wood chopped and you’re in my way. I’m warning you, Roy. I’ll do it.” Roy didn’t think he would do it. And he was wrong.)
Anyway, I don’t know how long Roy stood there throwing darts or how much money he spent, but he finally won me a prize. And what a prize it was.
He won me a 6’0” Pink Panther stuffed animal. My mother nearly shit a brick. :)
I was so overwhelmed and I’m sure I was convinced that it was the best day in my life.
We stuffed the Panther in the trunk, piled in the car, and went home. I was so thrilled with my new toy and so thrilled with crazy Uncle Roy, God love him. :) Eventually I had to give the Pink Panther up. You must remember that I grew up in a trailer and the rooms in singlewide trailers are not very large. A life-size Pink Panther doll just gets in the way a lot. :) So I ended up giving it to one of my cousins.
May I never forget my first carnival ride and how my three-fingered Uncle won me a giant Pink Panther. May I never forget how wonderful cotton candy tastes.
May I never forget going to Beckley carnivals as a teenager, in hopes that I would meet a cute boy or two. May I never forget the magic of the carnival. :)
“Carnival dancer, magical time of youth
And as the day draws nigh
Dreams fill my heart
I'll sing while he plays his guitar
I'll sing as the night wakes the dawn
Will love come my way on this magical day?
And will hope stay in my heart?”
~ from “Carnival” on the Mission Impossible 2 Soundtrack
We rode five rides in all and topped it off with some cotton candy. Poor Ben got a bit nauseous…I suppose his age is catching up with him at long last. But with all of the twisting of the Tornado and the G-force of the Hurricane and me slamming into him repeatedly on the Sizzler (a Scrambler rip-off), it’s truly no wonder that the poor guy got a little ill.
The Sizzler was our third ride and while zooming around and around and laughing and watching the multitude of flashing, brightly colored lights…I found my way back to a memory of me at about 6 or 7 years-old.
I was at a carnival with my Mom, my Grandma, my Uncle Roy, and my siblings. I had forever been “too little” to ride anything but at long last I was able to ride the tiny Scrambler!!! My brother rode it with me and I remember slinging around and laughing, and watching the lights. I don’t recall exactly what was going through my mind…only that I was blissful at that moment. That was the most exciting thing that had happened in my short life up to that point. It was so exhilarating and I felt so free. :) To be that innocent and carefree again.
After the ride, my Uncle Roy, played the dart game where you try to pop the balloons to win a prize for me. Uncle Roy was about 45 years old then…maybe 50…his hair was salt and pepper gray, his hairline was receding, and he wore thick rectangular glasses.
He is a Vietnam Veteran who is entirely too obsessed with the Rambo and Rocky movie series. And he only has three fingers on one hand. One of his favorite sayings is “I got three. How many you got?”
(He lost his fingers as a child. His older brother, Frank, was chopping wood and Roy kept sticking his hand out in front of the axe, daring Frank to cut him. Frank, who had a quick temper and had been fending off his pesky little brother for over an hour, finally lost his patience. He told Roy, “The next time you put your hand down there, I’m chopping anyway. I’ve to get this wood chopped and you’re in my way. I’m warning you, Roy. I’ll do it.” Roy didn’t think he would do it. And he was wrong.)
Anyway, I don’t know how long Roy stood there throwing darts or how much money he spent, but he finally won me a prize. And what a prize it was.
He won me a 6’0” Pink Panther stuffed animal. My mother nearly shit a brick. :)
I was so overwhelmed and I’m sure I was convinced that it was the best day in my life.
We stuffed the Panther in the trunk, piled in the car, and went home. I was so thrilled with my new toy and so thrilled with crazy Uncle Roy, God love him. :) Eventually I had to give the Pink Panther up. You must remember that I grew up in a trailer and the rooms in singlewide trailers are not very large. A life-size Pink Panther doll just gets in the way a lot. :) So I ended up giving it to one of my cousins.
May I never forget my first carnival ride and how my three-fingered Uncle won me a giant Pink Panther. May I never forget how wonderful cotton candy tastes.
May I never forget going to Beckley carnivals as a teenager, in hopes that I would meet a cute boy or two. May I never forget the magic of the carnival. :)
“Carnival dancer, magical time of youth
And as the day draws nigh
Dreams fill my heart
I'll sing while he plays his guitar
I'll sing as the night wakes the dawn
Will love come my way on this magical day?
And will hope stay in my heart?”
~ from “Carnival” on the Mission Impossible 2 Soundtrack
Well…what’s new in the life of Christina Louise Garris?
I finally received my diploma from Marshall today and it was a bit more emotional than I thought it would be. I knew I had graduated before…I knew it was real…but it didn’t seem real until I held my diploma in my hands and read it over to myself a couple of times. All the while smiling.
All I wanted to do was take it over to my brother’s house and show him and my mom.
(Spoken in the voice of a little girl) “Look at what I did Mommy!!! Look and be proud of me!!!”
And she was. She was already in bed when I got there, but she wasn’t asleep. I think she doesn’t sleep very well at night anymore…her knees and her back ache…my poor wonderful mother.
I walked in the room and whispered for fear of waking little Megan in the next room.
“Mom, I have something I want to show you.”
“What Chris?”
And as she laboriously sat up in bed, I flicked on the light switch and sat down beside her. She smiled and took it from my hands and said excitedly, “Your diploma!”
And as she opened the green bound diploma and read it, tiny tears welled up in the corner of her eyes. Well, you know things like that are a chain reaction. When your mother starts crying because she’s proud of you, you can’t help but cry too. And I did.
I hugged her until our brief bouts of tears dried up and we sat and talked for a bit. It reminded me of the talks that we would have while I was in high school, sitting on my bed each night, just before I would go to sleep. Back then I would talk to her about my current “love” or crush. I would ask her advice on friendship issues. And I would dream a lot about the future. I used to tell her what I wanted to do when I got out of high school…and about how much I wanted to go to college. She would always tell me that if I worked hard enough, I could do anything. Anything at all. “Just believe in yourself and work toward what you want, and it will be yours.”
I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful mother, who has done nothing but encourage me and show pride in me every step of the way. And I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful friend as Diana D. Garris.
"Think where man's glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends."
- William Yeats
I finally received my diploma from Marshall today and it was a bit more emotional than I thought it would be. I knew I had graduated before…I knew it was real…but it didn’t seem real until I held my diploma in my hands and read it over to myself a couple of times. All the while smiling.
All I wanted to do was take it over to my brother’s house and show him and my mom.
(Spoken in the voice of a little girl) “Look at what I did Mommy!!! Look and be proud of me!!!”
And she was. She was already in bed when I got there, but she wasn’t asleep. I think she doesn’t sleep very well at night anymore…her knees and her back ache…my poor wonderful mother.
I walked in the room and whispered for fear of waking little Megan in the next room.
“Mom, I have something I want to show you.”
“What Chris?”
And as she laboriously sat up in bed, I flicked on the light switch and sat down beside her. She smiled and took it from my hands and said excitedly, “Your diploma!”
And as she opened the green bound diploma and read it, tiny tears welled up in the corner of her eyes. Well, you know things like that are a chain reaction. When your mother starts crying because she’s proud of you, you can’t help but cry too. And I did.
I hugged her until our brief bouts of tears dried up and we sat and talked for a bit. It reminded me of the talks that we would have while I was in high school, sitting on my bed each night, just before I would go to sleep. Back then I would talk to her about my current “love” or crush. I would ask her advice on friendship issues. And I would dream a lot about the future. I used to tell her what I wanted to do when I got out of high school…and about how much I wanted to go to college. She would always tell me that if I worked hard enough, I could do anything. Anything at all. “Just believe in yourself and work toward what you want, and it will be yours.”
I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful mother, who has done nothing but encourage me and show pride in me every step of the way. And I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful friend as Diana D. Garris.
"Think where man's glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends."
- William Yeats
Thursday, June 13, 2002
I finally got the chance to spend some time with my family this past Sunday. And that means I got to visit with my adorable niece, Megan.
She will be a year old June 29th. One year. God, time just goes, doesn't it? Every time I see her she amazes me a little more.
Her eyes are so blue and beautiful. And she's finally growing a bit of hair, all of which is a dark blonde color. She's got four teeth now and honestly loves vanilla wafers, but she hates green beans. I was helping her mother feed her this weekend and she furiously rejected the green beans. So furiously, in fact, that they found their way all over her face and clothing, on to the floor, on to her mother, and on to me just a bit. :)
She actually understands the things that you say to her now. We were playing with her and her mother asked her to find Aunt Chris's belly...
she crawled over and pulled my shirt up a bit to reveal my belly button. And then proceeded to try to dig it out or rip it off, which tickled and hurt
simultaneously. A one year old child should not have such a strong grip. :)
Another game we play with her is hiding something under a pillow or blanket and letting her find it. My brother sat little Meg on his stomach and
hid his face with a couch pillow. We asked her, "Where's Daddy, Megan?" and she reached down and uncovered his face and then smiled
and laughed so beautifully. :) It was so cute. After that she started hiding his face with the pillow and finding him again...and we all got a laugh when
she was pressing the pillow down hard over his mouth with one hand pressing down on his throat. Megan was trying to kill Daddy. :) How sweet. :)
But truly, there is something so special...so precious about her and the relationship I have with her...and especially the relationship she has with her parents.
She knows without a doubt that they are hers. People who love her, people she loves. How can a one year old know this? I don't know. But I see evidence of it
whenever my brother comes home from work and she is so excited and wants to go straight to him. I see evidence of it when she wants someone to hold her and
she chooses one of her parents above anyone else. Some might say that its because they spend the most time with her, but that's not really true. My mother spends as much time as they do with her, while she watches her through the week. She just knows...it seems as though there's this strange bond of sorts. It's truly beautiful and baffling.
It makes me wish that I were in a psychological and monetary position in which I could have children. God save the world the day that I ever have children.
What little angel demons they will be!
She will be a year old June 29th. One year. God, time just goes, doesn't it? Every time I see her she amazes me a little more.
Her eyes are so blue and beautiful. And she's finally growing a bit of hair, all of which is a dark blonde color. She's got four teeth now and honestly loves vanilla wafers, but she hates green beans. I was helping her mother feed her this weekend and she furiously rejected the green beans. So furiously, in fact, that they found their way all over her face and clothing, on to the floor, on to her mother, and on to me just a bit. :)
She actually understands the things that you say to her now. We were playing with her and her mother asked her to find Aunt Chris's belly...
she crawled over and pulled my shirt up a bit to reveal my belly button. And then proceeded to try to dig it out or rip it off, which tickled and hurt
simultaneously. A one year old child should not have such a strong grip. :)
Another game we play with her is hiding something under a pillow or blanket and letting her find it. My brother sat little Meg on his stomach and
hid his face with a couch pillow. We asked her, "Where's Daddy, Megan?" and she reached down and uncovered his face and then smiled
and laughed so beautifully. :) It was so cute. After that she started hiding his face with the pillow and finding him again...and we all got a laugh when
she was pressing the pillow down hard over his mouth with one hand pressing down on his throat. Megan was trying to kill Daddy. :) How sweet. :)
But truly, there is something so special...so precious about her and the relationship I have with her...and especially the relationship she has with her parents.
She knows without a doubt that they are hers. People who love her, people she loves. How can a one year old know this? I don't know. But I see evidence of it
whenever my brother comes home from work and she is so excited and wants to go straight to him. I see evidence of it when she wants someone to hold her and
she chooses one of her parents above anyone else. Some might say that its because they spend the most time with her, but that's not really true. My mother spends as much time as they do with her, while she watches her through the week. She just knows...it seems as though there's this strange bond of sorts. It's truly beautiful and baffling.
It makes me wish that I were in a psychological and monetary position in which I could have children. God save the world the day that I ever have children.
What little angel demons they will be!
Monday, June 10, 2002
All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
And their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tommorow, no tommorow
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
'Cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very
Mad World
Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
Made to feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
Look right through me, look right through me
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
'Cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very
Mad World
~ "Mad World" by Tears for Fears
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
And their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tommorow, no tommorow
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
'Cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very
Mad World
Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
Made to feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
Look right through me, look right through me
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
'Cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very
Mad World
~ "Mad World" by Tears for Fears
Wednesday, June 05, 2002
I met my boyfriend, Ben, on May 31, 1997 at a friend's high school graduation. June 1st was the 5-year anniversary of our first date. We had sex three times that first night. I had never done anything like that before. Actually, I had been a virgin until two weeks earlier.
The story goes like this. I was going through a religious crisis...questioning my faith for the first time...and I decided I didn't believe what I had been taught all those years. My virginity was the symbol of my purity and my faith. I had worked very hard to keep it so long, what with all the desires floating around in my lusty little brain and all the boys that had asked me to wrap my long legs around them. But I resisted for so long. Until I was eighteen years old. At this time, during my religious crisis, I finally decided that I was going to cast off the symbol of my faith. I wasn't going to let the fear of losing my virginity “keep me chained” any longer.
And so I met a guy. He really didn't have a personality. He was just kind of cute and he was nice. He was my chosen victim. I hung out with him for a month or so and then one night I decided I wanted to do it. It was time. God, was that the most awful experience of my life! I was so disappointed. Truly, I’ve received more pleasure out of masturbation that that poor sap was ever able to give me. The word that came to my mind while I was lying beneath him and he was going at it was "rutting". Rutting is what horses or cows or pigs do in the barnyard. That's what I felt like he was doing with me. After it was all over I thought to myself, "There has to be more to it than that!" And so a few nights later I tried it again. Still, I felt nothing. I remember getting up and putting on my clothes on that last night. I dressed slowly, the whole while just looking at him lying naked on the bed. I walked out into the living room and waited while he dressed. When he finally came out of his bedroom, I picked up my jacket and handbag and walked out to the porch. He followed. We stood there, looking at each other in silence for a moment. And in his eyes I saw…nothing. I smiled and hugged him and said, “Thanks.” He thanked me back. And then I said, “Well, this is it, then. I’m going. I won’t be back and I won’t call you again. You take care and have a nice life, okay?” He smiled and replied, “Okay, I will.” I walked to my car and drove home. I never saw him again.
So I spent two weeks trying to figure out if my actions had been the right ones. Was I fucking insane? Why did I lose my virginity to THAT guy of all the guys out there? Why that loser? And then I let it go. Why worry about it? I had had safe sex…it was over. Now I was free of the fear of losing my virginity. It was over.
Then I was simply out to have fun...and I guess that you could say that I did. :) Like I said, I met Ben two weeks after losing my virginity. I was over at my friend David’s house before we met up for our first date. I remember going into the bathroom and looking at myself in the eye in the mirror and saying, “Christina, you’re not going to have sex with this guy. You’re just going to get to know him. Only have sex with someone you love.” Like Alice wandering through her fucked up little Wonderland, I always give myself such good advice…but I never fucking follow it. We had sex on our first date and every meeting thereafter. And though the decision was pretty foolish…having sex with some guy I didn’t know at all…it was extremely fun. :)
Two weeks after that first date, after having hot, sweaty sex in the back of his old Thunderbird, Ben asked me to be his girlfriend. I thought, "Oh how cute!" and giggled and said yes. That was five years ago. Five years. Five years is a long time to do anything. A long, long time. :)
The story goes like this. I was going through a religious crisis...questioning my faith for the first time...and I decided I didn't believe what I had been taught all those years. My virginity was the symbol of my purity and my faith. I had worked very hard to keep it so long, what with all the desires floating around in my lusty little brain and all the boys that had asked me to wrap my long legs around them. But I resisted for so long. Until I was eighteen years old. At this time, during my religious crisis, I finally decided that I was going to cast off the symbol of my faith. I wasn't going to let the fear of losing my virginity “keep me chained” any longer.
And so I met a guy. He really didn't have a personality. He was just kind of cute and he was nice. He was my chosen victim. I hung out with him for a month or so and then one night I decided I wanted to do it. It was time. God, was that the most awful experience of my life! I was so disappointed. Truly, I’ve received more pleasure out of masturbation that that poor sap was ever able to give me. The word that came to my mind while I was lying beneath him and he was going at it was "rutting". Rutting is what horses or cows or pigs do in the barnyard. That's what I felt like he was doing with me. After it was all over I thought to myself, "There has to be more to it than that!" And so a few nights later I tried it again. Still, I felt nothing. I remember getting up and putting on my clothes on that last night. I dressed slowly, the whole while just looking at him lying naked on the bed. I walked out into the living room and waited while he dressed. When he finally came out of his bedroom, I picked up my jacket and handbag and walked out to the porch. He followed. We stood there, looking at each other in silence for a moment. And in his eyes I saw…nothing. I smiled and hugged him and said, “Thanks.” He thanked me back. And then I said, “Well, this is it, then. I’m going. I won’t be back and I won’t call you again. You take care and have a nice life, okay?” He smiled and replied, “Okay, I will.” I walked to my car and drove home. I never saw him again.
So I spent two weeks trying to figure out if my actions had been the right ones. Was I fucking insane? Why did I lose my virginity to THAT guy of all the guys out there? Why that loser? And then I let it go. Why worry about it? I had had safe sex…it was over. Now I was free of the fear of losing my virginity. It was over.
Then I was simply out to have fun...and I guess that you could say that I did. :) Like I said, I met Ben two weeks after losing my virginity. I was over at my friend David’s house before we met up for our first date. I remember going into the bathroom and looking at myself in the eye in the mirror and saying, “Christina, you’re not going to have sex with this guy. You’re just going to get to know him. Only have sex with someone you love.” Like Alice wandering through her fucked up little Wonderland, I always give myself such good advice…but I never fucking follow it. We had sex on our first date and every meeting thereafter. And though the decision was pretty foolish…having sex with some guy I didn’t know at all…it was extremely fun. :)
Two weeks after that first date, after having hot, sweaty sex in the back of his old Thunderbird, Ben asked me to be his girlfriend. I thought, "Oh how cute!" and giggled and said yes. That was five years ago. Five years. Five years is a long time to do anything. A long, long time. :)
Sunday, June 02, 2002
A friend of mine wrote in his online journal about how, while visiting with his old friends whom he hasn’t been around in a while, his behavior changed…and according to his perception, it changed for the worse. He feels that he regressed into a persona that he’s trying to leave behind.
That started me thinking. This is a very typical human behavior. I’ve done it, my boyfriend does it, and my friends do it. Most likely every human being on the face of this earth has altered his or her behavior due to the company that they’re sharing at any particular moment. So why do we do it?
It’s pretty simple, really, when you think about it. People want to be accepted and loved. They want to find a niche into which they fit to ensure their survival. If others accept them, they have a place, a meaning. They are given purpose and are defined by others perceptions of them.
So we meet people…we act a certain way with them…and let’s say we gain acceptance with them. Now we know that a certain behavior is acceptable and proper or impressive behavior with this certain group of people. So we’ll continue to act this way whenever we are with them.
Often, as in my friend’s case, as we grow up we decide to walk different paths and we move from home and our groups of friends. We’ll find new groups of friends and we’ll probably behave differently within these new groups. As we grow, we learn, and our behaviors change…become more mature. We try to improve ourselves…become better human beings. But when we step back into those old environments with old groups of friends, we will often find ourselves regressing back to behaving with them in the way we used to…we’ll leave the new facets of our personality at the doorstep. Why do we do this? Because we know that the old form of behavior is acceptable to the old group. We may think subconsciously that this behavior is what the group expects and if we don’t deliver, well perhaps we’ll no longer have acceptance. And so we fall into old patterns.
We’re afraid of bringing in the newer, more mature behaviors into a group of friends…especially a group of friends from high school…because these behaviors may make us more vulnerable. High school students, especially boys, will tend to raze each other…taunt each other as a form of camaraderie. When we grow older we may find that we’d like to express compassion to these old friends, but instead of doing that we find ourselves busting on them with some sarcastic humor. Instead of saying, “I understand…I care...I’m here for you” we say sarcastically, “Well if you weren’t such a dumb-fuck, you wouldn’t have this problem!” and then we laugh it off.
It’s difficult to integrate behaviors…very difficult…but it can be done. We just have to trust our friends enough to be more vulnerable in front of them. We have to trust them to accept our new persona. And being that they are your true friends, they will accept you for all that you have been, all that you are, and all that you will become.
Why? Because that’s the way love works.
That started me thinking. This is a very typical human behavior. I’ve done it, my boyfriend does it, and my friends do it. Most likely every human being on the face of this earth has altered his or her behavior due to the company that they’re sharing at any particular moment. So why do we do it?
It’s pretty simple, really, when you think about it. People want to be accepted and loved. They want to find a niche into which they fit to ensure their survival. If others accept them, they have a place, a meaning. They are given purpose and are defined by others perceptions of them.
So we meet people…we act a certain way with them…and let’s say we gain acceptance with them. Now we know that a certain behavior is acceptable and proper or impressive behavior with this certain group of people. So we’ll continue to act this way whenever we are with them.
Often, as in my friend’s case, as we grow up we decide to walk different paths and we move from home and our groups of friends. We’ll find new groups of friends and we’ll probably behave differently within these new groups. As we grow, we learn, and our behaviors change…become more mature. We try to improve ourselves…become better human beings. But when we step back into those old environments with old groups of friends, we will often find ourselves regressing back to behaving with them in the way we used to…we’ll leave the new facets of our personality at the doorstep. Why do we do this? Because we know that the old form of behavior is acceptable to the old group. We may think subconsciously that this behavior is what the group expects and if we don’t deliver, well perhaps we’ll no longer have acceptance. And so we fall into old patterns.
We’re afraid of bringing in the newer, more mature behaviors into a group of friends…especially a group of friends from high school…because these behaviors may make us more vulnerable. High school students, especially boys, will tend to raze each other…taunt each other as a form of camaraderie. When we grow older we may find that we’d like to express compassion to these old friends, but instead of doing that we find ourselves busting on them with some sarcastic humor. Instead of saying, “I understand…I care...I’m here for you” we say sarcastically, “Well if you weren’t such a dumb-fuck, you wouldn’t have this problem!” and then we laugh it off.
It’s difficult to integrate behaviors…very difficult…but it can be done. We just have to trust our friends enough to be more vulnerable in front of them. We have to trust them to accept our new persona. And being that they are your true friends, they will accept you for all that you have been, all that you are, and all that you will become.
Why? Because that’s the way love works.
Saturday, June 01, 2002
Driving home yesterday from working out I saw the most glorious sunset. The sun was only partly visible over the tree-covered hills, a swelled orange-red orb that filled the sky with tones of pink. Soft, fading blue sliced by slivers of pink and, somehow, soft, lavender clouds. It was lovely. It was and then it was gone.
After the sunset I noticed the hills all around me seemed so lush and green and alive. The trees, they hugged the road, their broad arms making a canopy overhead, all along the drive home. I had my window down letting the wind make a tangled mess of my hair…and it reminded me of the summers I spent hanging out, just driving around with my best friend Nikki. We’d roll the windows down, put our sunglasses on, and just go. And then we'd drive home in the evenings from wherever we had been, tired and content....just feeling the evening coming on and knowing that tomorrow was another wonderful day filled with more wonderful things. I remember being so happy. So fucking carefree. It’s a nice memory. And it’s nice that I can still have those moments.
As the evening began to fade to dusk, I saw that the hills in the distance lose the lush green and wrap themselves in shades of blue. I turned the radio off and just listened to the wind rushing by…and the trees. When the wind blows through the trees you can hear them. Leaves rustling, branches bending and swaying. Sometimes I like to think that they have a language all their own…the sounds, the movements, are all part of some communication long forgotten or never known by humankind.
Truly I sometimes wonder what they would have to tell us if they could speak or if we could understand. Would they impart the knowledge they have learned in their time? Would they tell us of the changes of the landscape? Of the floods, the rains, the snows? Of the autumns, the silent winters, and then describe their joyous rebirth in the springs and reign in the summers? Would they be able to recount human history? Human history told to them by the older trees who have returned to the Earth and are no more?
Or would there be something deeper? Some philosophy and secret to life…something known only by those things deeply connected with the earth, which would help us to understand how to be at peace? How to find happiness and balance?
But maybe they already do that. And we just have to learn to stop and listen.
As I pulled into my driveway I picked up the scent of the honeysuckle that grows down over the hill, right next to the railroad tracks. The sky was, in one direction, golden and glowing above the dark green-blue hills, and in the other direction, a deep, evening blue. I breathed deeply, taking in the honeysuckle and the smell of the green, lush twilight. The wind had picked up and I could hear the gentle whispering of the leaves. For that moment I was content and wanted nothing more than to be there as I was.
After the sunset I noticed the hills all around me seemed so lush and green and alive. The trees, they hugged the road, their broad arms making a canopy overhead, all along the drive home. I had my window down letting the wind make a tangled mess of my hair…and it reminded me of the summers I spent hanging out, just driving around with my best friend Nikki. We’d roll the windows down, put our sunglasses on, and just go. And then we'd drive home in the evenings from wherever we had been, tired and content....just feeling the evening coming on and knowing that tomorrow was another wonderful day filled with more wonderful things. I remember being so happy. So fucking carefree. It’s a nice memory. And it’s nice that I can still have those moments.
As the evening began to fade to dusk, I saw that the hills in the distance lose the lush green and wrap themselves in shades of blue. I turned the radio off and just listened to the wind rushing by…and the trees. When the wind blows through the trees you can hear them. Leaves rustling, branches bending and swaying. Sometimes I like to think that they have a language all their own…the sounds, the movements, are all part of some communication long forgotten or never known by humankind.
Truly I sometimes wonder what they would have to tell us if they could speak or if we could understand. Would they impart the knowledge they have learned in their time? Would they tell us of the changes of the landscape? Of the floods, the rains, the snows? Of the autumns, the silent winters, and then describe their joyous rebirth in the springs and reign in the summers? Would they be able to recount human history? Human history told to them by the older trees who have returned to the Earth and are no more?
Or would there be something deeper? Some philosophy and secret to life…something known only by those things deeply connected with the earth, which would help us to understand how to be at peace? How to find happiness and balance?
But maybe they already do that. And we just have to learn to stop and listen.
As I pulled into my driveway I picked up the scent of the honeysuckle that grows down over the hill, right next to the railroad tracks. The sky was, in one direction, golden and glowing above the dark green-blue hills, and in the other direction, a deep, evening blue. I breathed deeply, taking in the honeysuckle and the smell of the green, lush twilight. The wind had picked up and I could hear the gentle whispering of the leaves. For that moment I was content and wanted nothing more than to be there as I was.
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