>Ü< CareaBearaSara >Ü<’s Neighborhood

• 15:25 @dearbarbz your Christmas tree in the back looks so cute! #
• 15:27 @meghanthefox that's definitely a smart one. #

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Jason and I do not live in the same city.  In the beginning, this was okay.  We have busy lives, seeing each other only on the weekends was fine.  I liked it.

Then came the summer.  Together all the time.  Throw in the fact that we didn't work in August and it really was all the time.  For me, it was wonderful.  I love Jason and I was so happy to spend so much time together.

When September came around, a little part of me screamed out in pain.  I wish it would have died and I could have forgetten about it.  Oh no, it has kept screaming.  I miss Jason.  Both of us have been busier than busy (like everyone else) this fall.  Jason has no problems with the fact that we don't talk everyday and we don't see each other for 102 hours at a time.  In case you are wondering where I got that number, 6:00 am Monday to 6:00 pm Friday.  It's just an estimation, we don't really have rules.  It's not like prison.  Maybe I shouldn't compare our relationship to prison.

As that last paragraph would suggest, I am in turmoil.  It's not fair to say that Jason doesn't miss me.  He just misses me rationally.  Like "Well Babe, we have things to do and places to be and I miss you and all but I'm gonna go ahead and do stuff and get over it.  See you later."  I miss him more like this, "(sob, sob, sniffle) I miss you!  Why don't you care?  Why am I not important to you?  Why would you rather do ANYTHING besides see me?(choke on tears)".  I realize that I have it easy.  I have only travelled to see him twice in the past four months.  I have realized that I get stuff done on weekends like a normal person.  He has to get all his stuff done while being super busy during the week.  Then, he has to drive for an hour or so and that's not so fun. 

Basically, I have it easy.  But it's still so hard.  I just wish I could see him whenever I want to.  I wish that I was a strong and independent person who loved my own space and wanted to do my own thing.  I'm pretty sure I used to be like that.  I think I have it in me.  I guess I need to find that part of me, shake it awake and put it back into action.

Or I could just cry.

Disconnect #1:

Puddin's text message was simple: "J hung himself."

The implications are far more complicated. Puddin has the sense of relief that her ex-husband won't be stalking her anymore, that the past few years' nightmare of frivolous custody suits, unsent child-support, and threats has ended. The down side…how do you explain to a seven year-old that the father who has only been there sporadically is dead? How do you explain that this father loved you, but he hanged himself?

A few miles up I-75, my friend's daughter, Eliza, has coded four times in the past week. She's fighting for her life, fighting the way she's had to her entire 16 years. She's waiting on a heart-lung transplant, eager to grow up and have problems.

There's a disconnect somewhere in this world. How one person can hate life so much that he snuffs it, while another person has battled her entire 16 year life to stay alive--I wish we could just transfer the healthy life spark from one person to another. I mean, it would have been no big deal for J to code--he wanted to go. Let Eliza be up and walking around, and J could segue into wherever abusive bastards are sent afterwards.

Disconnect # 2:

A couple weeks ago, I was surfing around the interwebs, and I stumbled across the video of Bud Dwyer, then the Pennsylvania Treasurer, holding a press conference. After making a statement, in which he professed his innocence, he gave envelopes to three of his aides, then pulled out a .357 Magnum and shot himself in the head. BOOM! Right there on live TV. (you can link to the video from wikipedia's article on Bud Dwyer) All I could think of was, "That doesn't even look real."

The next night, I watched "Boys Don't Cry," in which the protagonist is shot under the chin. All I could think was, "Now THAT is what it's supposed to look like!"

It was vaguely discomfiting seeing an actual gunshot suicide happen; even more horrible was that I judged it as lacking compared to the special effects extravaganza in the movie.

Disconnect #3:

I've written before about my extreme dislike of X-mas, which I differentiate from Christmas. X-mas contains all the frenzy: shopping, parties, stress, presents, et cetera ad valium. Christmas is a pretty straightforward message of peace. Once again, I'm up to my ass in X-mas, and have been since Black Friday. Christmas will be fine and peaceful, but it only lasts a day. Is it worth it? All the madness and mayhem--just for one day where people are less dickish to one another?

Don't ask me that tonight.

Last night, I lay in bed thinking about my life. I've been depressed and alcoholic, where my first thought upon awakening each day was, "Oh, shit; again?" I've also been really sick, where I was 24 hours away from dying. As I lay there, I focused on my breathing, on the fact that I'm not battling for breath. I thought about my job. Yeah, it's stressful as hell this time of year, but it's not too bad. I thought about my people, about Team Punkin and my various partners in crime, about friends nearby and afar. I treasured that even though I'm not wealthy, I have a nice apartment I can afford. Even though it was muggy outside, it was cool inside. I was breathing on my own, without equipment to assist me or monitor me.

I thought how nice it would be if Eliza gets her ultimate Christmas gift, and if Puddin' and her son can find a little peace somewhere in this mad X-mas frenzy.

Tom has a pulse

reba is a cwazy bitch

i don't know why this makes me laugh so hard but it does. so
hard. that's the theme of my blog tonight. oh yeah yeah yeah.

i love that reba's a black dude in a red wig. c'mon how else
could it be better>

sidenote: i went to a basketball camp in ok.  it was a week
long. it sucked. i didn't even want to go but i did want to be
better at basketball and my best friend elizabeth wanted us
to go.

the camp was in an old high school and we slept on musty
mattresses in empty classrooms and showered in the
communal bathrooms and ate in the cafeteria.  their claim to
fame was that reba mcentire went to basketball camp there
and used to sing to all the campers. well we all know what a
great basketball player she became but who knew she
could RAP!

i like this girl so much.

so talented and pretty and smart

at first, i was like this is a dumb flashy vidoe for a so-so song and then i
listened to it 5 more times and realized that i like it.

hacker and i don't like the SAME music but we like a similar kind of music.
after visiting my brother, we had this conversation...

hacker: your brother likes white music
me: yeah...

for the record: hacker and i are both white and i do like lots of white
music but i'm also in love with a lot of "stereotypically black" music.
i just look way whiter than i am

Hope no planes are trying to land.

My phone isn't great at night. But trust me in that this is a beautiful night.

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plus pumpkin lasagne.

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My lady ...

I just walked into the kitchen and found Mr FD standing at the bench waiting for the kettle to boil to make his coffee. He was murmuring "My husband and I..." to himself.

I know that I am a goddess, but I have no intention of delivering a Christmas message ... too much caffeine?

Allan Houser sculpture in front of saguaro.

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