Stuck in the Past

Stuck in the Past

:: 2011 12 March :: 12.29am

5 months
Sorry I'm late. It's been an interesting week. We took you to. The dr. Tuesday because you've had a spot beneath your eye that was puffy and red. She thought it was a Strep infection and so we started you on keflex. Today we got a call from your Pediatrician saying that the cultures were in and that she needed to switch the antibiotic. So... we started you on amoxiciilan today. Hope it works. She said it would most likely cause diarrhea and you've already got what looks like a test infection so...I hope it's worth it! Tomorrow is greenlee's 1st birthday party. Hopefully you can make it. :)
Some milestones for you...
You can sit on your own
You said mama today ( not on purpose I know but still!)
You can roll from front to back back to front
And can turn yourself in a complete circle
You can push yourself backwards across the wood floors
You laugh constantly...especially at your big sister

You're 17.5 lbs and 26 inches!

Oh and obviously that shows you still love to eat... but I've got you up to every three hours instead of two!!!
Don't worry I still love you even though you are attached to me every three hours 24 hours a day.

Pull a combo!

rayray

:: 2011 3 March :: 11.44pm

They say time heals all wounds..
... I am having a hard time believing that time heals all wounds, at least in this situation.

I may seem dramatic, petty, or immature. Some may think I over analyze every situation, just to find the bad in something. But honestly, in this situation, I don't have to look for the negative. It seems to present itself just fine. I didn't ask to be part of this. I didn't ask for an alcohol dependent mother, who uses her addictions to alcohol, cigarettes, weed, and sex, as excuses for how she "copes" with her miserable life. I didn't ask for a mother who chooses favorites when it comes to not only her children, but her grandchildren. Or a mother who stops talking to me when I mention her coming to visit me and my daughter at my house. A mother who blames everyone but herself for her miserable life.

Whether she realizes it or not, she treats me like shit. Like a mistake she'd rather sweep under the rug. I know she loves me, and that she does care, but she has a shitty way of showing it to me.

For years I blamed myself, lost sleep, shed way too many tears, and worried way too much. Blamed myself for her addiction. Even though I now know it wasn't my fault. Never was. Never will be. I lost sleep waiting up at night, constantly looking out my bedroom window just to make sure she made it home safe from the bar. Shed way too many tears because that is the only way I knew how to deal with the stress I put myself under worrying about her. And I worried way too much wondering where she was, or who she was with, or when she'd finally make it home. Those are not things a teenager should have to deal with or worry about.

I saw a different guy after another come into my home, and leave. There were only a couple that stuck around. When she was on again with Jim, the guys weren't so frequent. In fact, they had even stopped... 'til Joe came along. Then for awhile it was just Joe, then it was Joe and Jim, and then it was just Jim. And unfortunately, it was just Jim for awhile. She didn't come to school functions because she had to go to the BAR to watch him perform in his BAND. Seriously? You ditched your daughters school function, something that you can't get back, to watch your alcoholic boyfriend pretend to be a rockstar? Fucking perfect. Sadly, that was the story of my life through high school. In fact, I remember begging her to come to a spring concert, and I even tried to bribe her. Didn't work. Her response was, "Why do I have to go? I've already heard you guys play." That was also her same response to me asking her to go to band competitions, or home football games to watch the halftime shows. Except she'd throw in, "I can sit on the porch and listen to you guys play. And I don't even have to get out of my pj's and I can smoke and drink my beer." Again, seriously?

I knew disappointment all too well.

I am very grateful for my dad. He missed 1 volleyball game (because he was called into work), and missed one, maybe 2 band performances. He didn't care if it was all the same. He wasn't there for the music, or the sport. He was there to support ME, his daughter. Who he loves unconditionally. It wasn't because I was daddy's little girl, or because I begged and pleaded for him to go. I will admit, that him and I do not have the most perfect relationship. It's almost awkward, and he was way too easy on me. I could have gotten away with murder, and I'd still be an angel in his eyes.

Anyway, back to the point.

After graduation, I was extremely unhappy. But I was too scared to do anything about it. I didn't know how to change my life for ME. I was still being controlled by my mother. I was constantly fighting with Jim. And after having anxiety attacks after fights we would have, I knew something had to change. In the meantime, I got mixed up with a guy I met at work. He was 17 years older than me. Not attractive, but he showed interest in me. He said all the right things, and I thought I was in love. When I was with him, I didn't think about my mom, Jim, or any of that mess. Even though that relationship wasn't healthy on so many levels, and he controlled me, he gave me the strength and courage to stand up for myself. I needed to do something, not in a couple of days, weeks or months, but right NOW. While I was at his house one day, I was bombarded by phone calls by my mother, telling me I HAD to get home right NOW, and do dishes before she got home from work, I had to earn my keep. Even though I had not been home in close to a week. On the way home, I made arrangements to move out... 2 days later. I was excited for this change in my life. I didn't want to hurt my moms feelings, so I sent her an e-mail. Telling her that I was done fighting, and I wasn't going to make her choose between Jim or I. I had made that decision for her, because I already knew what her decision was going to be. I was done being hurt, disappointed, and being shoved out of my own house by someone I would NEVER consider family. And I needed a different environment. One where I felt safe, and had called home for the last couple of years, even though I didn't live there. She hadn't said anything to me about the e-mail, so I sent it again, and she still hadn't responded, so I printed it, put it in an envelope, and put it on the shelf in the bathroom before I left for work. I wanted to make sure she had gotten it. She was furious. She tried to talk me out of moving. But I wasn't going to change my mind. She called me on my cell phone, from the house phone, WHEN WE WERE IN THE SAME HOUSE, begging me to stay. She told me she was going to kick Jim out so I would stay. I knew that if I had told her I would stay, she wouldn't make him leave. She'd just tell me things would be different. Needless to say, after work the next morning, I came home to load up all my things, and she was still there. She packed the majority of Jim's things, and was kicking him out. But, I was still not going to change my mind. I didn't just need him out of the house. I needed him out of our lives, if I wanted any kind of relationship with my mom. Or so I thought. Since then, things have only worsened.

She REFUSES to come to my house. She's ALWAYS asking me to come to her house. When I tell her I am busy, she stops talking to me. When I mention her coming to my house, she doesn't respond, and won't talk to me until she asks me to come over again.

I am sick and tired of being the only one to make the effort. She has been to my house so many times that I can count them on 1 hand. I haven't lived with her in 5 and a half years.

Onto what hurts the most..

March 7, 2010.. A day that was one of the happiest days of my life. I found out I was pregnant. I was happy to tell my sister, my dad, and my brother. I knew I would get judgement from my brother, and I knew my sister would ask a million questions. Face it, thats her nature. She's extremely inquisitive. I was scared to tell my mom, and I had every right to be scared. If it weren't for my sister, I probably wouldn't have told her at all. I would have just let her figure it out, or hear it from someone else. Would have been easier that way. Instead, I heard every ounce of disappointment, and judgement she had to offer. There is nothing worse than telling your mother you are pregnant, and getting a giant sigh of disappointment followed by a hesitated "I still love you." Never in my life, have I felt so hurt, or betrayed in my life. I felt like my heart had just been ripped from my chest.

I'd be lying if that was the end of it..

A couple days after her processing the thought of me creating life, and being a mother, she decides to call me. And tell me that she's worried about me, and that I should have been using protection, so that I didn't have an unplanned child. Wait, it gets better.. She follows that up with, "I just have this feeling that Mike is going to leave you, or force you into an abortion." Are you fucking kidding me? Right then, I lost all hope that she'd ever come to terms with me being a mother, and be happy with me.

Unfortunately, she continues to bombard me with hurt..

By the end of that week, my sister announces she is pregnant. And my mother was so unbelievably happy for my sister and her husband. She couldn't wait to tell the world. And she did a great job of telling everyone she was so excited to have 2 grandbabies at the same time. She had so much excitement for my sister, that she let it overflow in to excitement for me, when really she still had judgement.

It was going great for awhile..

She showed up at the hospital when I was about to deliver. I didn't want her in the room, and she knew it. I knew that she was going to start in on me the moment she got there.. And I should have placed bets on Facebook, because I'd be fucking LOADED! As soon as she walked in the room, she started nagging me telling me I was going to hyperventilate if I didn't calm down. Really? I thought I was doing just fine for being in LABOR for the first time in my entire life. She only stayed at the hospital for maybe 2 hours after Reagan was born.

And she continues to find ways to hurt me, and get under my skin..

I sent her a picture text of Reagan. I was hoping for a response, at least saying "give her kisses from Grandma. Tell her I love her." But I got NOTHING. A day later, and still NOTHING. But she posts two links to 2 pictures of my nephews, that my sister had posted.. I don't even feel disappointed anymore. I feel like she is punishing Reagan for being mad at me. And that is not right at all. I am hurt that she doesn't say anything about Reagan. It's always about her Grandsons. I have always tried to fight for attention over my sister, because she is my moms favorite. I shouldn't have to fight for my daughter to get equal attention as well.

I wish things were different. I worry about what I am going to tell Reagan when she's older and wonders why Grandma doesn't come to visit. I want my daughter to have a Grandma in her life, and my mom is the only one she has. I don't want to lie to my daughter about why her Grandma doesn't come to visit, or make up excuses for her. But I also don't want my daughter to feel an ounce of disappointment from my mom the way she has let me down.

So, I have made a promise to myself, and my daughter. I will be the best mother I can be. I will use my mom as inspiration. I won't miss an important moment in my daughters life, unless there is nothing I can do about it. I will always be there for her, and I will NOT treat her the way I was treated. She is the best thing that has EVER happened to me, and nothing will EVER change that. I am so thankful for every moment I spend with Reagan, and I will cherish every single moment I have with her.

...To be continued...

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allyson

:: 2011 2 March :: 12.19am

Callie is in my arms and autumn is asleep upstairs. As I read my two blogs ( one about baby scarlett who has brain cancer and the other about maddie who passed away of Sids feb. 17th at 4 months old) I can't help but feel so blessed to have everything I do. I must tell jared thank you when he gets home this morning. I have my two babies alive and well(minus a cold) and a husband that is perfectly happy working (and working hard) and letting me stay home. Every morning that I wake up and have my husband,daughter and baby alive...I am happy.
My heart aches for those not as fortunate as me. And their pain has made me realize EVERYTHING I have to be grateful for. Callie crying at 2 am.... me changing her clothes because she has pooped through yet another outfit....autumn coughing so much she throws up....and when they look at me with their sincere loving eyes....
I wish they knew what a difference they have made in my life and my childrens. Because of them I treat every second of every day like I might not get another.

Pull a combo!

allyson

:: 2011 2 March :: 12.19am

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allyson

:: 2011 21 February :: 12.44am

exhausted
Seriously. I do not know how a baby can wake up every two hours at night and then wake up bright eyed at 9 in the morning. And still manage on top of that to only nap a couple times a day. Im tired. You're crying right now and have been since at least midnight. Im about to go insane. I thought they say that babies will stop after a certain amount of time. Apparently you're stubborn. I hate it.

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valoth

:: 2011 19 February :: 2.44pm

The rant to end all other rants...I had.
Ive been slowly working on writing something huge. Every event in my life that still haunts me in some fashion. Every event that I recall thats ever kept my mind awake at night frustrating the hell out of me. What I have already is about 6 pages long. So, I can only imagine how bad things will be by the end of it.

The good news is I think putting these things down somewhere will def help.

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spud

:: 2011 18 February :: 2.12am
:: Mood: relaxed

i'm making 'omnanimously' a word, and that's the end of it.
So, i'm on vacation with my family. We go to the k-mart in Petoskey. Not my decision, but in the interest of caving to the more forceful individuals involved, that's where I wound up.

My dad gives me spending money (it would've been much better spent on the slopes, but that wasn't in the cards, apparently. So, I still haven't spent it.), which in and of itself is both sad and cool. With what money I brought up with me, I buy a soda. A 20-ounce bottle of pop. The lady at the register asks me if I have a k-mart rewards card. I have to sound all stupid, and ask her to repeat herself because she's one of those soft talkers. You know the ones. I'm half deaf, because i'm getting over a sinus infection, and i've spent several sessions in the last 24 hours submerged in either a hot tub or a pool. Since I can't fucking be skiing. would you like to sign up for a rewards card? I'm sorry, what was that? Do you want to sign up for one? No, thanks. And in my head, there's a battle raging between the logical part of me that's thinking 'she doesn't know that I never go to k-mart, probably won't again for a long long time, and the only reason i'm here in the first place is because i'm from out of town,' and the other part that's saying 'lady, I don't have one already, and i'm just buying a fucking soda!'. Alright, that'll be a dollar sixty-nine. I didn't actually hear what she said, but I knew it was more than a dollar, but less than two, and deduced the rest from the change.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Just a fun fact (or an FF. See what I did there? I shortened it. Which is automatically more cool. Or cooler. See? Shortened again! Damn, i'm cool), this stems from a game of phone tag that i'm currently in.

I am fascinated, at least for the moment, with the phenomenon of being 'it'. Like, how would you describe being it? (again, short=cool) Defining 'it' is easy, but describing it is nigh on impossible. You're in a position of some singular importance, but at the same time it's something you try to avoid. I guess it all stems from the simplicity of the game. It is competition in its most sublime, simplified form. Still, the human mind needs some context; some rules. Granted, they're basic: if the person who's it touches you, you become the person who's it - The game begins with whoever initiates contact and calls someone else it - Anyone who chooses to join in is potentially it. Them's the rules. Then why is that sensation so difficult to pin down? We all know it (at least, anyone who has ever played tag. Which I omnanimously declare to be everyone), and yet it remains so difficult to put to words. You're either chasing, or being chased, and taking it in turns. And the game is pretty much over when the person who's it gives up, and nobody else in the game decides to take up the mantle.

In some ways, I wish phone tag were more like the game of my youth. Regardless, I still hate being 'it'.

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allyson

:: 2011 9 February :: 12.15pm

4 months old!
Callie,
Wow! You have had a few busy days. Saturday the 5th we started you on oatmeal. You ate probably half and the other half ended up all over your clothes. The next day, you ate all of it! ( my little piggy) Then things started getting harder haha. You decided you wanted to play with it and shoved your hands in your mouth. Yesterday you were too upset to eat and today you ate a few bites, played with some and some ended up on your face and clothes. Every bite you did eat... made you gag...and this horrible expression would come across your face like it tasted so sour. But I tried it before you did and it was NOT that bad.
Last night you rolled from your belly to your back TWICE and it was intentional haha. You don't really like being on your tummy but you still are physically capable of rolling from your back to your tummy. Oooh and another thingbyou started doing a couple days ago was switching your pacifier between your hands and also outrun it back in your mouth. I'm so proud of you! Those skills are way above your current age (6 month skills). Currently you are asleep in my arms. I think you are going through a growth spurt. You used to sleep from 12a- 8am without fail for 2 months straight. The past week or two.. you've been up at 5 and then 9 wanting to nurse for a half hour! Not to mention still eating ever two hours during the day and you've also started nursing on both sides. Piggy.
Happy four months.

Pull a combo!

allyson

:: 2011 6 February :: 12.54am

Callie~
You are 17 weeks old today. In 3 days, you will be 4 months old. I can not believe how fast these 17 weeks have come and go. Each morning when you start rustling around and break out that beautiful smile makes me realize how lucky I am for you to be here with me. I may not have realized it then... but when I had you... we both could have died right there in that bathroom. I apparently.lost a lot of.blood and God only.know how many other things could've gone wrong with the birth in general not to mention all the tlabor that could've been wrong with you. I had been in active labor for 12+ hours and didn't know it. That can put a lot of stress on babies. Lucky for me, you were strong and healthy. Right now you are sleeping right next to me. I'm listening to you breath.
Today, you were so happy. I was able to put you down and play and talk to you...I even left you on the activity mat all alone and you tugged and pulled on the toys attached to it. Grandma and gumpy came over this evening and while grandma had you, you kept looking around the room for me to make sure I was there. I love that now you fuss when I put you in your chair when I have to make dinner or clean. And then when I walk in your direction you start smiling and giggling but as soon as I walk past you, you let out a cry. You love me. And I love you. At least today while I made dinner and sister was talking you decided to talk back. Goo this gaah that. " a goo a goo" over and over. You even put your pacifier back in your mouth after it fell out.

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spud

:: 2011 18 January :: 2.08am
:: Music: SuperLibrary - it continues to grow

so.... you hit it and then it works?
yes. yes it does.

so, i live on a cul-de-sac (which is a word i despise, but there really is no other word for it...). at the very end is a path that leads to the school behind the house. by the path are a fire hydrant and a streetlamp. now, for the past year or so, the light wouldn't always turn on automatically. sometimes you'd have to kick it, nudge it, whatever you felt like doing in order to jostle the thing to life. now, at first it was just every once in awhile. then it got to be once a month. still a novelty at this point, as i spend a lot of time visiting with the neighbors across the path, and he would usually beat me to it. but eventually it got to be once a week.... then every fucking day. that got old for him (i was excited to have a fighting chance to be the first one to kick it), so he called up the township or whoever is in charge of maintaining the lights (yay 'burb life) and asked them to come fix it. they say yeah, sure, first thing.

about a month later he calls them back, reminding them of their promise to fix the damn thing... he even has the file number they gave him from the first call he made so she could look it up. she said the number didn't really matter. okay, whatever. "but yeah, someone needs to get out here to fix this soon. i'm getting sick of kicking it."
"i'm sorry? what seems to be the problem with it?"
"well, it doesn't turn on when it gets dark, so you have to hit the pole so it turns on."
"so, you hit it, and it comes on."
"yes ma'am, i'm not pulling your leg. it really turns on when i kick it."
"huh. you sure?"
"yup."
"alrighty, well i'll send someone out within the week. your file number is 1928340987-"
"-i thought you said the number didn't matter."
"oh. well, yeah, right. you have a good day then."
"thanks, you too."

i'm only semi-bullshitting the conversation there. it's not verbatim but that's the gist of what he described to me.

i just didn't realize that hitting things to make them work could be so foreign to somebody. it's like, the first thing i do. not violently. just to see if there's a bad connection or something. i guess maybe she was just surprised that hitting it actually worked. she must have a bad track record of hitting things and having them remain woefully unmended or something. guess i've got the magic touch.

all i know is, about a month ago they finally fixed the blasted thing, and now it's brighter than blazes all effing night long out there. it seriously hurts my eyes to look out the window. and it's got this weird pinkish hue to it. i almost liked the broken one better.

see what i mean? bright.

-----------------------------

in other news, i'm still a sagittarius, pluto's still a fucking planet, and triceratops is still the most badass herbivore this side of the big bang. the bce/ce from bc/ad didn't bother me as much. i mean, change typically comes slowly for me, if at all, so i still use the old ones, but i don't mind seeing the new ones because of the unholy ruckus the bible-bangers made about it. if you're too shortsighted to see that changing the name of something doesn't change the thing itself, then i really don't care about whatever got your panties in a bunch. we need some way to measure time. the modern world is too fast paced for people to say "year of our lord twenty-hundred and eleven." and the documentation on christ's life and when exactly that was is a little ... spotty. science demanded a more precise measurement, for whatever sciency things it is there doing in there. as long as they don't burn the place down i guess i'll let them stay. until i get pissed about whatever they pry from my unwilling fingers next week. fuckers.

--------------------------

so i've been tutoring this kid for the past couple of months. he's mildly autistic, which means he's in normal classes, and social enough, but it makes my job difficult. it's not that he can't focus. he can focus plenty, if it's something that interests him. it's that he can't focus on algebra 2 when he doesn't feel like it. which is most of the time. so, instead he's always telling me about all this different stuff that does interest him. like some cartoon he was watching with his brother, or this video game he's designing. tonight he was regaling me with how there are different types of fruit. shit you not. he's got this bowl of fruit, and he comments on how the strawberries are making him pucker. i sample one and concede that it's a little tart, for a strawberry, at which point he launches into this thing about how there are different types of fruits within the same species. well, not species, but that's the word he'll use (i'm not entirely convinced he was wrong on that count). "like, apples. there are all sorts of different kinds of apples. macintosh. jonathan. that one's named after me."
"alright, so, the opposite of b, plus or minus the square root of b squared minus 4ac, all over 2a." he stops to pet the dog. and play with the 2 remaining chunks of strawberry.
"but it's all food, i guess. i mean, it's not alive, like animals, but it still provides sustenance." i kindly explain that fruit is indeed a living organism until we kill it, much the same as animals, though admittedly less mobile.
"well, it's still food."
"okay, so in this function b is 4, a is negative one, and c is 8, so...."

and that's pretty much how it goes. he talks about his girlfriend a lot too. apparently she wasn't at school today because her mother felt she needed to be home to celebrate martin luther king day (she's black, after all). seemed justifiable to me. i'm just trying to figure out how she can do that, when it's exam week. whatever. you know, i want a white person holiday. you know, one where we celebrate how our ancestors took advantage of all the minorities to their own personal gain. and all of them (our ancestors) are dead now! one ethnic dead person holiday deserves another!

oh, god, when the shit happened with the birds and fish in arkansas, he was telling me about how she thought there was a volcano in arkansas that was going to erupt and destroy the world. her particular brand of autism apparently has a penchant for the doom and gloom, so it doesn't take much to get her going. but this was a very real concern in her mind, and so it becomes that much more real for those in her life. the unerring font of knowledge i doubtless am in his mind, i felt obligated to elucidate. and honestly, i tend to figure i might as well, since i'm not convinced i've actually taught him anything about math at all. i know his folks are paying me to help with school, but i figure any seed i can get to germinate, whatever the topic, is a mini-success and makes my time worthwhile. so i told him about how there was some speculation that yellowstone - decidedly not arkansas - may erupt "soon". in geologic terms, soon is probably not in our lifetime. but it's a possibility. even if that does happen, it's not going to be the apocalypse. it'll do a dandy number on most of the US, michigan included, but i doubt it would completely kill off all the humans on the planet. he seemed reassured by that; mission accomplished.

---------------------------

so this book i'm reading right now is basically robin hood, as this guy thinks it should be, or might have been. he's based it in the 11th century in what is modern day wales. he's changed things completely, but it's well written and actually seems far more realistic than most of the romanticized robin hood crap we're used to seeing at the movies. if you're genuinely interested, you should start with the first book in the trilogy, though. anyway, the language tends to have this overly formal archaic type of style to it. most of the books i've read by him are that way, at least at times. but once i start to get into the swing of it, i think i could really run rampant and emulate that voice fairly well. i think it would be a fun experiment to try. maybe not as accessible to readers, but fun. and i could be verbose without it seeming like as much of a stretch. condescension and overly flowery language are pretty much expected from that dialect. i couple probably pull it off. i'm halfway there already, right?

right.

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tuwang

:: 2011 14 January :: 4.34pm

this weekend will be the 6th weekend in a row Ive gone out all night and come home on the first train in the morning. Im not entirely sure how I feel about that.

I had a dream last night that I went to a bar with my friend Benedict. I paid 2000 yen at the door, got my wristband and two tickets, and entered. When I got in, a fat lady with a poorly shaped bob haircut and thick horn-rimmed glasses stops me and asks me for proof that I had paid. I show her my wristband but she says, `that proves nothing`. I pull out one of the two tickets I had and I get the same response, followed by the other only to yet again hear how useless it is. She starts chuckling and I say, `what do I have to do to prove to you that I paid?`. She grins and replies `Tim should have given you what you need.`
`Then Ill go find time`
`Tim wont give it to you now, Im sure`
She is laughing hysterically and Im getting incredibly frustrated at this point. I start cursing in Japanese, to which she responds with laughter.
`Its no use really` she says and continues laughing, her belly jiggling rythmycally.

Its then that I pull out a Colt .357, cock it, aim at her face, and pull the trigger. I hear nothing but see a flash of white, at which point I wake up in a cold sweat.

what does this mean?

For a reality update, Im still alive. Thats nice yeah?

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tuwang

:: 2011 6 January :: 9.12am

back then they didnt want me, now Im hot they all up on me.

I wish it were easier to make apostrophes on this keyboard.

Bitches need to learn to take a joke, especially when the implied meaning isnt inately evil by any means.

my three thoughts for today.

Akemashite Omedetougozaimasu.

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spud

:: 2010 27 December :: 4.33pm
:: Mood: apologetic

Me, delinquent? Never!

so, obviously the goal of one post per week was achieved for approximately one week.

part if it was simply the hustle and bustle of the holidays. and the other part was me trying to get my life in some semblance of order, failing, and burying myself in fantasy fiction instead. i'm indulgent like that.

so, i'm still here, and i'd still like to keep posting more relevant/interesting stuff, but it's going to take me time to gather the material and compose the entries. i've got plenty of fodder, so it's just a matter of taking the time to assemble it.

sure i could post some bullshit once a week and stick to my deadline, but i'd rather go for quality than quantity, so i'll post whenever i damn well feel like it, and you fuckers will just have to deal with that. just know that when i DO post, it will be what i consider to be at least passable, since i rarely think any of my writing is particularly excellent, and never perfect.

in the meantime, i hope everyone is making the most of their holidays! eat, drink, and be merry! god knows i am.

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spud

:: 2010 12 December :: 10.56pm
:: Mood: memories

That's why they call it dope.
Alright kids, gather 'round and listen up, because it's - story time!

This story in particular has all of the qualities that any great story has: drug use, police involvement, and general stupidity. I trust now, that your interest is adequately piqued, and you have all you can do to keep from salivating. No, seriously. Go get a napkin or something. That shit is grossing me out.

That's better.

Now, this was a few years ago, back when I was in college still, and had even fewer responsibilities than I do now. I also had a girlfriend. Said girlfriend - we'll call her Lady - lived in an apartment on campus with 3 other girls. This was the end of exam week, so 2 of the gals had already left and gone home to regale their parents with all these stories of how we were all very responsible and had gotten loads smarter over the last 9 months. So that leaves Lady, other roommate - we'll call her Kay - and myself with this apartment to ourselves, and we were appropriately celebrating the end of the semester. Kay was the drinker out of the group. I may have had a couple, but was for all intents and purposes, sober. I can't honestly recall if Lady had been drinking or not. Doesn't much matter either way. So, anyway, we're all happy that the bullshit is over, and are very much looking forward to a summer of well-mannered frivolity. By lucky happenstance, I had recently acquired about a quarter ounce of pot that was in desperate need of smoking. However, they were getting ready to vacate the apartment, and didn't want it to smell like weed when the people came through for final inspection, so obviously we couldn't smoke there.... (we totally could've. It's a wonder what a bathroom fan and fabreeze can do. But what happened happened.)

After a few minutes of weighing our options and debating with one another about the best course of action, Kay suggests that we go and smoke in her car. Beautiful! So, we gather up the necessaries, and go out to the car in the unfortunately well-lit parking lot outside the building. Well, that just wouldn't do. Kay doesn't want to drive, as she'd been drinking, and Lady doesn't want to drive because ... well, because she's a puss. That's how yours truly got landed with driving duties. Even still, so far, so good. We hop in Biffy, the affectionate epithet Kay had chosen for the vehicle, and I'm speeding us off into the night. I don't want to smoke while I'm driving, so I set the girls to the task of finding us a place to park. We see a bunch of cars parked along the road outside of a house off-campus. It's like 2 in the morning. Guess we're not the only ones celebrating the end of the semester, eh? Well, cool, we'll just park on the side of the road with these other cars and blend in with the crowd. Great idea! So, we park, and I have to pack the bowl, because the other two are utterly worthless and I am their slave, apparently. So we spark it up, and pass it around until it's gone. I say "okay, I'm good, let's go back now." Kay wants to smoke some more. Lady decides to join in. I make them pack their own damn bowl this time. It's starting to hit, so I'm a little edgy, and am increasingly more eager to get back to the homestead and sit down with a movie and a bag of doritos. Is that really so much to ask?

Right as they're about ready to light round 2, we see our friendly neighborhood campus security officer cruise by, obviously scoping out the party. They can't break it up because it's not in their jurisdiction, but they can call in the county sheriffs if anything seems amiss. So far, they're just cruising. So, Kay and Lady finish the job, and we see the campus police make yet another loop around the block. At which point I say screw this, let's get out of here. Unfortunately, neither I, nor any of the other occupants of the vehicle had noticed the droves of people now stumbling their way from the house to all of their parked vehicles on the road. FUCK. Party's over. So, now it looks like we're also leaving the party, even though we were never there in the first place. And then I remember that Biffy has a bum headlight and a taillight housing that Kay had destroyed by backing into a parked car. Fanfuckingtastic. And in my infinite wisdom (that's why they call it dope), I pull out directly behind the cop car, which then turns left, down the same road that I need to use to get back to the apartment, and rather than just go straight and figure out an alternate route, I continue to follow them. They notice the headlight, or lack thereof, pull off to the side and allow me to pass, and then begin to tail me. It's right around this time that the faintest notion of winding up in jail begins to surface in my brain. But still, they're not doing anything, just following me. Not wanting to speed, I'm pretty sure I went 25-30 the whole way. Longest half-mile of my life - or, at least, it felt that way. As some of you may know, marijuana affects the way you perceive time. We finally make it to the parking lot outside the apartment building - woohu! I signal my turn, hit the brakes to slow down, and pull into the lot, at which point the damn blue and red lights rear their ugly head. Abandoning its fairly benign beginnings as a fuzzy notion, jail is suddenly becoming a very real concern. We do the whole pep talk with each other before the cop has time to get to the door. If you've ever been pulled over, you know the drill. Stashed the weed? License and registration? Seatbelts on? Everybody has their IDs? Fuck. I left my wallet upstairs.... not like I was planning on getting pulled over or anything. And we have a quarter sitting under the passenger seat that is technically mine, and I doubt the other 2 would have too much hesitation in throwing me under the bus.

So to recap; we're in Kay's car, which has a bad headlight and a bad taillight. I'm driving. And Lady is the only one who had enough sense to bring her identification. Bloody fucking brilliant. I can already smell the soap on a rope. Officer knocks and I roll down the window. I hand him the registration and insurance info, along with Lady's ID. He asks for the other IDs and I kindly explain that Kay and I forgot ours. He asks for my name so he can go look it up on the computer. Christopher is a really long name, and is difficult to spell when you're stoned - even though I've had it my whole life. Even still, it's pretty common, and I use the normal spelling. My last name is easy, but people tend to overthink it. I don't know how many times I've given someone my name, and they're like "best? How do you spell that?" The same way Noah fucking Webster spells it, you dumbass! Stop making it more difficult than is has to be. It's the worst over the phone. Anyway, he goes and checks his fancy-pants computer for me. He comes back and says he can't find me on the system (probably because my name is so difficult to spell). He asks if I've been drinking tonight. I say nope, haven't had anything to drink. He does the finger test. You know the one (no, not that one). "Keep your eyes on my finger and don't move your head. My head remains stationary as my eyes attempt to burn holes into the most fascinating moving finger I've ever seen. (I was very high at this point. I couldn't not stare at it.) He's like, "well, there's the smell of intoxicants coming from the vehicle." Thankfully Kay pipes up at this point and explains that she'd been drinking, which is why they had me drive. Nice save! I owe you one! After I get done giving Kay mental high fives and having him commend us for being responsible, he lets us off with a warning and gives Kay a repair and report for being lazy in her vehicle maintenance.

I'm still in shock from the whole thing and have so much adrenaline going, I can barely park Biffy and walk inside. We all agree that we can't just go to sleep yet, even though it's 3:30 in the morning at this point. So we decide to watch Finding Nemo. It was a nice comforting familiar sort of movie, which helped calm us down, but every time I've tried watching it since, it's just not the same anymore. Thanks guys for ruining a perfectly good pixar movie and nearly landing me in jail for my efforts.

Next time, we're just smoking in the bathroom. F'realz.

P.S. I wound up having to take a drug test for my summer job like 3 days later. I think I drank about a gallon of water that day. Somehow, I passed.

Pull a combo!

spud

:: 2010 7 December :: 1.41am
:: Mood: reflective
:: Music: plain white Ts (it's okay to judge me)

what the fuck is a weblog anyway?
it has recently come to light in christopher-world that i pretty much treat this like a diary, only other people can read it. which is fine. suits my purposes nicely. but at the same time, it could be so much more than that.

my stepdad, bruce (who some of you have had the pleasure of meeting) started his blog maybe a year ago. i was a pretty avid follower at first, even though i've heard it all before, but haven't been able to keep up with his frienzied pace of posts and comments and have ultimately decided to let it fall by the wayside. that, and he started pimping out all these other blogs, a few of which are pretty fucking cool. (although, bruce's evil twin is usually a fun read. especially if you feel there's a lack of cussing in your daily life) like i said, i've heard all of his bullshit before. i'm more interested in hearing this new, fresh stuff that i've discovered is out there. and it's kind of weird how they're all like this little virtual community. not that woohu isn't just that, but it's interesting for me to be viewing the community from the outside this time around. and it is making uncomfortably apparent all of the shortcomings of my own blog.

a couple of the guys that make me feel like such a slacker are simple dude, who lives in a complex world, and jeff over at content unrelated.

simple dude is basically what i could one day aspire to be (and i think it's interesting that he always talks about his "lady friend" and "sexy times", because that's the exact terminology i always used with shannon), and jeff is pretty much what i would be now, if i was actually really funny, and lived someplace warm.

i mean, it's too fucking late to start working on any content of value tonight, but i'm thinking that in the future, i might start trying to be a bit more professional - and consistent - about what i'm doing with this thing and when i update. i think one a week is a good goal to have, but it is me we're talking about, after all. regardless, i could stand to benefit from changing the way i approach blogging in general, and actually writing as if i have an audience to entertain. it seems like a fun challenge.

so, is there any shit going on in the world today that you want to hear my spin on? if so, leave a comment.

now, let's go see if there's any inspiration left in that tequila bottle upstairs....

Pull a combo!