Worth It

I’m sure I’ll be a parent someday, but until then, my main goal in life is to keep making my mom’s face look like this:

That’s from the new embroidery machine I got her. Next year, I will re-attack the yard that I conquered last summer. There’s no way in hell I’m going out there right now with deafening 13-year cicadas on the loose.

Friday Night Frowns

So now that I’m done with Fringe, I thought I would finally check out Friday Night Lights. It’s great so far.

But, um, I’ve been in a pretty fragile place lately for a lot of reasons that I don’t feel like explaining. And FNL seems like a show that’s pretty sad and heavy in general. The parts with newly-paralyzed Street and Matt’s Grandma, especially, are hitting way too close to home for me.

My question is, does this show lighten up at all? Because if not, I don’t think I can do this, no matter how many great things I’ve heard. I’m four episodes in and I feel like I need some meds. I ran seven miles today and if these endorphins can’t get me through it, nothing can.

I miss Walter Bishop already. He tugs at my heartstrings sometimes, but then he takes acid and gets silly. Should I just start Fringe over?

Oh Rexy, You’re So Sexy

I don’t know what I was doing to make that face or that T-Rex arm, but I am delighted that I did.

Fauxto-booth by Photomation at RØB’s birthday party/Bunnygrunt’s release party for their latest 45, “Lady, You Just Got Von Damaged”.

My Wip is Fat :(

So remember that time I was in Ireland and I barfed on a castle and then my ex-boyfriend dropped me on my face and I looked like Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber?

Well, in addition to a fake front tooth, three root canals, a cyst which has to be drained this summer because it makes my sinuses hurt and a teeny weenie scar on my pinkie, I have this knot of scar tissue on the inside of my upper lip. The details of how I got it are gross, but it’s there and it annoys me and I will never be able to play the harmonica properly. Ireland. The herpes of my memories.

Anyway sometimes I have this nervous tick where I bite it (or maybe I’m trying to get rid of it by doing whatever dogs do that earns them a cone, except that doesn’t work when the offending area is directly in front of your teeth). I was biting it all day because of this:

See that? I was in the shit. The best part was when the top of the storm swirled counter clockwise and almost hit us again. Combined with spiky baseball-sized hail and Joplin and Tornadostock 2011, and yeah. I chomped.

Then I ran six miles, because Justin had my computer on a film shoot so what the hell else would I do? And then I came home and snuggled with Chauncey.

And THEN the day of nervous biting combined with a Chauncey-induced hive to create what Dave Murray would call a “tornadic super cell” of ugly.

I am. So sad.

However, dogs and cones reminded me of this:

Chicky Chicky Parm Parm

I’m busy shrinking, sweating, getting my Fringe on and and writing writing writing. My new co-workers are cool as hell. I’m running farther than ever. Fauxlivia is kidnapped and pregnant. Life is exciting! But also slow.

This weekend, Jen and Katie and I hung out til two in the morning. We even outlasted cool Sarah! I ended up staying up the entire night to adjust my circadian rythem; it was my first all-nighter at the loft and it was pretty fun.

I bought gas a month ago and I haven’t even gone through half a tank, and that includes two trips to Illinois. Justin is in Mad Scientist mode with animation stuff, which frees me up to wander aimlessly around downtown (just remind me to never walk to the 17th and Olive 7-11 ever again because hoooboy).

I’m currently using all my mindgrapes elsewhere with projects for work, freelance, and myself, so this bullcrap is all you’re gonna get at the moment.

I Love You, New OmmWriter

It’s Oh So Quiet

Yeah, I’m not in a writing mood, at least not here. I will be eventually, but here’s the deal:

1. I LOVE my new job and I actually want to do well at it. This means I can no longer blog during work about how much I hate work.

2. More freelance work and collaborations are on my plate, eating the little free time I have. (I don’t get paid much for the jobs, but Mike always gives me a bottle of wine.)

3. My benefits are about to kick in, which means I have to deal with 401Ks and health insurance and bleeeuuugghhh   p=(0_O)* 

4. I’m trying SO hard to get to the Y, you guys! I work on my fitness for an hour a day! I ordered my bridesmaid dress in a size too small, so I HAVE TO OR IT WON’T ZIP UP.

5. I’m still used to working early in the day, but my partner and boss stay late, so I usually end up working at least 9 hours. And I like it?

6. Choreschoreschoreschoreschorescho

7. The ongoing saga of Justin’s puppet film.

8. A social tsunami of weddings, Double Quinceañeras, art shows, happy hours, concerts, showers, parties, Soulard Market, triathlons, NAPA and more happy hours.

9. Watching Fringe while eating parmesan popcorn is still the highlight of every evening and I won’t sacrifice a second of it.

10. Three of my friends are now engaged to people they’ve been dating for a year or less (one friend? Three months). I am also now the last friend standing out of my high school crew to be without a spouse or a baby (an 00ps-i-knocked-up-a-sorority-girl baby, but still). I’m in the best relationship of my life, have a career I couldn’t have reached otherwise, and am clearly in no hurry to lose any more of my free time to wedding planning or babies. But I feel like if I start exploring the fact that I’ve hit “old maid” status this early into my thirties, I will have a Cathyesque breakdown.

11. This whole May 21 Rapture thing. Okay. Y’all. Family Radio is a creepy sect with a billboard budget. Can we please not call them Christians? And can you guys remember for 2 seconds that I grew up in a church where people speak in Tongues  and fall over and believe in this stuff? And that I somehow turned into a nice person who loves gay people and Jesus and canvas grocery bags and education and F bombs and helping orphans all at the same time?

Even though most churches gross me out these days, many Christians are just like me, people who are just trying to be good people and don’t talk about their faith or their politics or how perfect they’re trying to be. You don’t notice these Christians because they’re doing exactly what they should be doing. You only notice the crazies, and then you lump everyone who ever jammed to DC Talk (andmayormaynothaveaDCTalkcassetteinhercar) into that crazy train and then I scroll down my feeds and I see you mocking my past and it hurts my feelings and this is why I can’t even you guys.

P.S. That was me blowing my brains out, courtesy of Glark.

He Made It

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We were on our way to Tombstone when we came across a place that seemed like it was where my dad belonged. We ended up spreading his ashes in Cochise County. My dad gave me a book about Chief Cochise when I was little, and I loved it. So rather than Tombstone, which mostly just sounded cool, Cochise County is a great tribute to his love of history, my memories of him, and a great view of the many places he wanted to explore when he got there.

We had just driven into Cochise when we hit a fertile valley full of farmland. After so much brown and red and yellow, all the green was quite a shock. Better yet, the entire area was surrounded by mountains. My brother pointed out the mountains in Tucson and the ones near Tombstone, and we both agreed that the spot had everything we wanted.

We drove down a dirt road past several farms (growing mostly pistachio trees) full of lots of metal hippy art in their yards, like in Castaway.  Finally, we came to a crossroads, and the scene was beautiful yet eerie, which is the best atmosphere for spreading cremains, I think.

I tried to toss them into the vegetation as far as I could without Lebowski’ing myself (again). I couldn’t wander too far off the road because flip flops are not the ideal defense against rattlesnakes. I spread them by myself. I cried a little. My brother and Justin gave me big hugs. It felt right.

P.S. We drove past a million giant dust devils on the way and honestly, how awesome would it have been to cut open the bag of ashes and set them right in the cyclone’s path? If we had more time, I would have insisted. Actually, if I die before coming up with anything cooler, that’s what I want you guys to do to me.

Tombstone

“I cut down on my drinking (hah, from a lot down to pretty much!)”
– Note from my dad’s unfinished memoir

We’re taking my dad to Arizona tomorrow. Well, tomorrow Justin and I are driving to Texas. Then Friday, lunch in Roswell (wooo!) and giving my niece a big hug in New Mexico. Saturday: Arizona. Sunday we fly out of El Paso, which is 10 feet away from Juarez, so in case we get shot by a drug cartel it was nice knowing you.

My brother and I decided that rather than Tucson, where he was going to move, we’d rather take him to Tombstone. He wouldn’t want to be in Tucson without my mom*, and since this is more symbolic than anything, we thought he would love Tombstone.

He was really close to this lady at our church named Joanie. She would take him out for coffee at Daily Bread almost weekly (he would always get a big blueberry muffin). For someone who couldn’t drive, friendships like that meant a lot to him, and to us.

When I greeted Joanie at his memorial, she blurted out, “I miss him!” with such sincerity.  It was one of the most genuine things that happened that day, and for that I will love her forever.

Today I learned that Joanie’s son works at my company. Not only that, but out of the thousands of places he could work on our campus, he’s in my department, in my building, right downstairs from me. I went and said hi to him; he looks just like her. I’ll bet my dad gets a kick out of this.

My dad was writing a book about his life story, covering everything from growing up in an alcoholic family to losing 80% of his vision and coping through his faith. I found it on his computer.

I’ve skimmed it a bit to make sure I have the best draft, but I’m going to read it in its entirety for the first time on this trip. This way, my final road trip with my dad will be the one where I learn the most about him.

I don’t think I’m ready for this, but I feel like he is. So, off we go.

*I’m the type of person who still thinks stuffed animals have feelings, so you can only imagine how much I’ve anthropomorphized these cremains.

EDITED TO ADD: Not in a creepy serial killer way; I don’t talk to them or sit them in a chair at the dinner table or anything.

May Plus Methodicalness

I’ve been pretty bummed out for the last few weeks. I don’t have a real reason to be (if anything, I have a billion reasons to be happy), which means that it’s most likely physical. I haven’t been very disciplined about sleep or exercise, and my new office (while awesome, full of awesome people, etc.) is very dimly lit – something that, for someone with DSPS, can be very dangerous, both for my sleep habits and my overall mood.

Plus, I’m about to say goodbye to my dad – again. I’ve been crying about him a lot for the past few weeks, much more than usual. Is it because I’m now walking the same grounds he did for 40 hours a week? Is it because of the trip? Am I sad about him because I’m sad in general, or the other way around?

By age 30, I’ve learned that I am susceptible to depression, and all the tiny elements of it can grow into a storm if I’m not careful. I also know that I’m tough enough to attack this now while I can still see daylight.

So I guess what I’m saying is, rather than doing something new for a month or something silly and crazy, I need to just focus on routine. Sleep. Run. Fruit. Veggies. Light. Discipline. Get used to my new environment, new people and a new daily drill.

I bought a Happy Light. I’m going to the Y tomorrow. I’ve reprogrammed my BodyBugg for a fresh start. I’m going to bed late tonight, but that’s just because I marathoned season one of Fringe this weekend and I’m on the last episode. (I may be depressed, but I’m still me.)

This week will still be uncharacteristically nuts, what with Hurricane Puppet destroying our loft and the trip on Thursday, but for the rest of May, methodical is the drill. If I come out of it feeling more like myself, with less tears, less pounds, and less poof under the eyes, then I did it right.

P.S. Somewhere in the middle of typing this, Osama Bin Laden died?