Am I the only person who didn't love 300? I'm sorry, the American sitcom died... one-liners should have been burried with them. It was beautiful, but I could do without any of the 46 different cliches.
I've had a really violent weekend. Saturday night I rented and watched The Departed. Tonight I saw 300.
It was also a really cute weekend. Klausse is also a really cute cat.
Hopefully soon I'll have a real bed. I'm looking forward to it.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Friday, March 23, 2007
I just realized that in the last blog I used the word "beleaver". That would be a cool word if it existed.
That would be a cool mascot! He could travel to Christian schools across the country: The Beleaver Beaver. Turning those former public school misfits into little Christian soldiers. All with the help of his big, beavery tale.
-I'm really tired.
But seriously, I BELIEVE that I'm not so bright. So please, feel free to correct me on my spelling. Always.
That would be a cool mascot! He could travel to Christian schools across the country: The Beleaver Beaver. Turning those former public school misfits into little Christian soldiers. All with the help of his big, beavery tale.
-I'm really tired.
But seriously, I BELIEVE that I'm not so bright. So please, feel free to correct me on my spelling. Always.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da...
has been stuck in my head all day.
A lot has happened. I'll start with what I didn't want to write about on Sunday:
Thursday night I couldn't sleep, and it became clear to me what I was supposed to do. I needed to write my Grandma a letter, telling her that I love her, and thanking her for all the things I took for granted. I knew in that moment that she wouldn't see the next week. I saw her in January. She was healthy enough to insist that my little sister and I slept in her room, while she slept on the couch. The letter sat on my night stand all day Friday, and Saturday I found her address. Sunday I got a call from my Dad. She had a heart attack, and was in the hospital, and that she probably wouldn't make it.
I cried so hard. I don't cry very often anymore, but for a full 4 minutes I was inconsolable. I knew that she was going to die. I had already been told, and yet I didn't move my feet. I assumed that it would take care of itself.
I asked my dad if there was a way I could overnight the letter, but he said that there wasn't time. Later that night he asked me to email it to his sister, which I raced home from church to do. They read it to her Monday morning before they pulled the plug. She died Monday night.
I talked to a few people about it. Most memorably to Lori and Troy. We talked about the conflict of being a beleaver and facing the death of others. I don't like the thought of good people in hell. People that I know. People who just didn't or couldn't know God.
Wednesday I got an EEG. It was, by far, the most metal thing I've ever done. Painless, other than when they flashed a strobe in my face for a full minute. If I wasn't epileptic before then, I am now. I posted some pictures on myspace.
Today I had an MRI, which was a dramatically different experience. I first started to panic when they put the IV in my arm. I got a little shakey, and made an emergency call to Brad. I calmed down, watched the fish in the large salt-water tank, and then changed into my little robe thing. I layed on the table, and the nice woman put my head in a plastic cage-like thing. I started to get teary. And they they clamped the plastic pieces down, making a full cage around my face and chest. I just layed there crying. Not sobbing, but tears running down either side of my face. Nothing I could do about it. We just had to wait until I stopped. The nice lady gave me more ear padding (I'm sensitive to loud noises... and smells), and a towel to cover my eyes.
Once the machine started, I was ok. I was at first freaked out by the noises, but soon found that they had kind of rhythm. I was able to calm myself down by humming out improvised melodies that fit its changing chord structures. I honestly think I could have made Bjork proud. I forgot for a while that I was in a magnetic tube, and became a composer of strange new music.
I've been babysitting for the Everett's, and I think they are the greatest people ever. Rennae called to see how the MRI went, and prayed for me while I was in there. Every single member of that family is considerate, helpful, and has a sort of grace that I pray for. I just thought I'd throw that out there.
AND LASTLY!
Elinor came in the mail today. I just opened her up. My pearly-white Hohner angel. I strapped her on and almost wept for joy. The sound is glorious. The texture of the keys are perfect. I couldn't be more happy about my new accordion. I'm not even sorry that the last one got broken.
--wait, just kidding, not the last thing. Courtney just informed me that we have "the biggest, fattest mouse ever" in our kitchen. YES!
A lot has happened. I'll start with what I didn't want to write about on Sunday:
Thursday night I couldn't sleep, and it became clear to me what I was supposed to do. I needed to write my Grandma a letter, telling her that I love her, and thanking her for all the things I took for granted. I knew in that moment that she wouldn't see the next week. I saw her in January. She was healthy enough to insist that my little sister and I slept in her room, while she slept on the couch. The letter sat on my night stand all day Friday, and Saturday I found her address. Sunday I got a call from my Dad. She had a heart attack, and was in the hospital, and that she probably wouldn't make it.
I cried so hard. I don't cry very often anymore, but for a full 4 minutes I was inconsolable. I knew that she was going to die. I had already been told, and yet I didn't move my feet. I assumed that it would take care of itself.
I asked my dad if there was a way I could overnight the letter, but he said that there wasn't time. Later that night he asked me to email it to his sister, which I raced home from church to do. They read it to her Monday morning before they pulled the plug. She died Monday night.
I talked to a few people about it. Most memorably to Lori and Troy. We talked about the conflict of being a beleaver and facing the death of others. I don't like the thought of good people in hell. People that I know. People who just didn't or couldn't know God.
Wednesday I got an EEG. It was, by far, the most metal thing I've ever done. Painless, other than when they flashed a strobe in my face for a full minute. If I wasn't epileptic before then, I am now. I posted some pictures on myspace.
Today I had an MRI, which was a dramatically different experience. I first started to panic when they put the IV in my arm. I got a little shakey, and made an emergency call to Brad. I calmed down, watched the fish in the large salt-water tank, and then changed into my little robe thing. I layed on the table, and the nice woman put my head in a plastic cage-like thing. I started to get teary. And they they clamped the plastic pieces down, making a full cage around my face and chest. I just layed there crying. Not sobbing, but tears running down either side of my face. Nothing I could do about it. We just had to wait until I stopped. The nice lady gave me more ear padding (I'm sensitive to loud noises... and smells), and a towel to cover my eyes.
Once the machine started, I was ok. I was at first freaked out by the noises, but soon found that they had kind of rhythm. I was able to calm myself down by humming out improvised melodies that fit its changing chord structures. I honestly think I could have made Bjork proud. I forgot for a while that I was in a magnetic tube, and became a composer of strange new music.
I've been babysitting for the Everett's, and I think they are the greatest people ever. Rennae called to see how the MRI went, and prayed for me while I was in there. Every single member of that family is considerate, helpful, and has a sort of grace that I pray for. I just thought I'd throw that out there.
AND LASTLY!
Elinor came in the mail today. I just opened her up. My pearly-white Hohner angel. I strapped her on and almost wept for joy. The sound is glorious. The texture of the keys are perfect. I couldn't be more happy about my new accordion. I'm not even sorry that the last one got broken.
--wait, just kidding, not the last thing. Courtney just informed me that we have "the biggest, fattest mouse ever" in our kitchen. YES!
Monday, March 19, 2007
not to be insensitive, but...
I'll post about Sunday sometime in the near future.
It weighs very heavily on my heart.
But for now:
ATTN: all Germans!
If I hear from you today I will be able to spend some time in your country!
That means YOU, Samantha! Respond to my myspace message! Right meow!
It weighs very heavily on my heart.
But for now:
ATTN: all Germans!
If I hear from you today I will be able to spend some time in your country!
That means YOU, Samantha! Respond to my myspace message! Right meow!
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
A family that I babysit for gave me a tv today. My life is over.
They also gave me the tastiest sandwich I may have ever eaten.
On Sunday my friend's 4 year old son asked me how the baby in my stomach is doing. I'm... uh... getting fat again. Sheesh.
Maybe it's because one of the sweet chefs at work made Sam and I quesadillas. And then the Su Chef gave us thin mint ice-cream.
And, the neurologist is pretty certain that my head is ok. It's my heart that will stand on trial in the weeks to come.
They also gave me the tastiest sandwich I may have ever eaten.
On Sunday my friend's 4 year old son asked me how the baby in my stomach is doing. I'm... uh... getting fat again. Sheesh.
Maybe it's because one of the sweet chefs at work made Sam and I quesadillas. And then the Su Chef gave us thin mint ice-cream.
And, the neurologist is pretty certain that my head is ok. It's my heart that will stand on trial in the weeks to come.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
hold on.
Tomorrow (today) I have an appointment with a neurologist. It feels as though I've been to the doctor more times in 2007 than I have in the past 10 years of my life.
I feel sick tonight.
I always wonder when people are going to start taking me seriously.
But this week I realized that I don't take myself seriously. I set out in search of a second childhood, and somehow found it. Now I'm waiting to grow up again. Unfortunately, this time I'm not getting any taller.
I find myself in a childlike disposition.
I say things like, "Man, when is that guy going to ask for my number?"
And I think things like, "I hope he doesn't call me. I'm too young for this."
I need to grow up.
I'm boring myself.
I feel sick tonight.
I always wonder when people are going to start taking me seriously.
But this week I realized that I don't take myself seriously. I set out in search of a second childhood, and somehow found it. Now I'm waiting to grow up again. Unfortunately, this time I'm not getting any taller.
I find myself in a childlike disposition.
I say things like, "Man, when is that guy going to ask for my number?"
And I think things like, "I hope he doesn't call me. I'm too young for this."
I need to grow up.
I'm boring myself.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
you don't meet nice girls in coffee shops.
I love Tom Waits. Dare I say, I'm in love at him.
Today I said to myself, "I really really would like to meet Tom Waits." But I realized that if I were to meet him, he would say to himself, "Self, this girl could in no way appreciate what it is that I do. She is decades too young, and takes the time to petty her life with things like red hair-dye and Forever 21 clothing. No, she doesn't understand. I'm insulted."
But he would be wrong. At my tender age I feel as though I've experienced much than the average college student.
And moreover, I know the ways of the diner. I've worked the night shift. I've had my morning regulars. I've known their early-morning desires before they've been uttered. I've poured more cups of coffee than I can recall.
I've been the waitress with Maxwell House eyes, marmalade thighs, and scrambled yellow hair.
What I'm saying is:
Mr. Waits, if you're out there in cyber-space, I pray that someday I can do something to return the joy you've given me.
Something legal... and chaste.
Today I said to myself, "I really really would like to meet Tom Waits." But I realized that if I were to meet him, he would say to himself, "Self, this girl could in no way appreciate what it is that I do. She is decades too young, and takes the time to petty her life with things like red hair-dye and Forever 21 clothing. No, she doesn't understand. I'm insulted."
But he would be wrong. At my tender age I feel as though I've experienced much than the average college student.
And moreover, I know the ways of the diner. I've worked the night shift. I've had my morning regulars. I've known their early-morning desires before they've been uttered. I've poured more cups of coffee than I can recall.
I've been the waitress with Maxwell House eyes, marmalade thighs, and scrambled yellow hair.
What I'm saying is:
Mr. Waits, if you're out there in cyber-space, I pray that someday I can do something to return the joy you've given me.
Something legal... and chaste.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Happy Lent. Suffering indeed.
I just found the chin-rest to my violin in a pile of sheets on my couch.
I just found my accordion duct taped back together, all the buttons jammed.
I'm very hungry, but I can't keep food in my home because it will be eaten, and not by me.
There is a 90lb dog that has been peeing in my house because nobody lets it out.
I think I'm going to throw up. I honestly may have a seizure.
I just found my accordion duct taped back together, all the buttons jammed.
I'm very hungry, but I can't keep food in my home because it will be eaten, and not by me.
There is a 90lb dog that has been peeing in my house because nobody lets it out.
I think I'm going to throw up. I honestly may have a seizure.
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