Friday, October 21, 2005

Now THAT is an Unhappy Mark

In response to an interesting question someone posed to me yesterday, I now defer to my small reading audience:

How do you know when I'm unhappy?

I have no idea how other people know when I'm unhappy, and I'm curious to hear what signals are. Or have you just never seen me unhappy?

I think I coast at numb, but maybe I'm wrong.

And now that I think about it, the word might have been "sad", and not "unhappy". So reply for both, please.

I anxiously await the flood of responses that aren't junk-posts from advertisers.

Saturday, October 08, 2005

Traffic Light Reflection

This afternoon I was sitting at the traffic light southbound on Rainbow Boulevard at 43rd Avenue (in a car, obviously... not just sitting there) thinking about... I don't know, whatever I think about, which many friends and other people required to spend time with me might argue is EVERYTHING...

I've lost my train. Oh, there it is.

I was sitting there thinking and waiting for the light to change, when I had a thinking fit, of sorts.

I was remembering that last time I ever saw Mom, which is to say the last time I ever will see her (in this world, anyway... I haven't ruled out an afterlife, I'm just not totally sold on it). I flashed onto that moment where I leaned down and told her it was okay if she needed to go, we understood.

I thought, "What a stupid person I was."

Because this other part of me, this huge and loud part of me--which was apparently sleeping these last few years, after Mom went into the nursing home, and I knew it was just going to be a rerun of Grandma's time at those nursing homes--this part of me feels that it wasn't okay. It feels as if some part of me is gone now because she's gone. I don't know what I believe about anything, but I'm starting to believe some part of what little joy I carried around with me was there because she was alive. Sorta like she was a life support system for a chunk of my joy.

I know, that's stupid and superstitious and more like crazy talk than real talk. Or real sane talk, anyway.

Of course, barring some crazy miracle, what else could I have wanted for her? My hope is that wherever she is now, she's reconnected with all of her mind. That's my hope anyway.

Jeez, talk about "I'm crying as I type."

Anyway, at the stop light I realized that part of me isn't happy with me for saying that, even though other parts of me (and people who have posted comments here agree) thought it was the right thing to do.

I'm sorry I didn't hold her hand. I'm sorry I didn't work harder to figure out if Dane wanted to kiss her or not.

I've been missing Mom for a while now, and for most of that time I thought I was just doing a drawn-out grieving thing. Apparently it was an "ignore it and it will go away" thing.

Time to pay the piper.

And I feel weird that I have a hard time talking to my friends about stuff. I feel weird that I'm talking to a minister of a church I don't go to. It helped to talk with him, and I plan to talk to him again, but does it say something about me that I'm not having this conversation with friends? It must, because I'm not having this conversation with friends because I don't know how... or that I can.

Blah blah blah, me me me. How's everyone else doing?

I'm going to end this blahfest with that happy piece of news. The Wilders won the Pitch's "Best of Kansas City" award in the country music category. Go over to their blog at and congratulate 'em!

Saturday, October 01, 2005

Every Week Lasts a Month

Probably in part because of how busy I am, but probably also in part because my brain is dealing with too much in my life, every week seems to last about a month.

I know part of it is the whole "yet another 'first year' at school" thing. I'm teaching Pre-Algebra to some of my kids this year, and it's like a first year all over again. I had my second first year three years ago when I started teaching math, and it was kinda similar.

And then there's the whole, "Where did I put that handbook for grieving?"

Anyway, looks like someone jumped from behind to overtake Ruth, and now she's at #5. I don't think some matching funds have come through yet, so she may make it back up to at least #4. Still, it's cool so many people gave to the cause. Thanks to all that did.

Speaking of "Thanks", also on my to-do list is all the Thanks You's I need to send out. The plan is an e-mailed "Thank You" to the e-mailed people, and a card to everyone who sent a card, plant, tater-tot casserole (okay, nobody sent one, but Jhoneric threatened to), or whatnot. I'm not sure what Emily Post says the window of Thank You sending is for a death. I'm not going to look it up. I'll just give myself until the end of the week, as that would be a month from the death itself.

Had a nice long chat with a Methodist Minister this week. It was kinda good to just puke my life out at him. I know, bad visual. But I mean it was nice to just sorta blurt it all out to somebody. Poor him.

But how funny is it that I'm having a sit-down chat with a minister of anything? (Okay, Minister of Magic, maybe...) But I mean of a religion. Also, is "Minister" the title in the Methodist Church? I should look this up.

Anyway, I'm not anti-church. Seriously, I'm not. I'm just anti-"I believe this and thus you must believe it also, and it must be the guiding factor in every decision our government makes, and our way is the only way". Which is a long bit to be anti- about.

Frankly, I don't know what I believe. I'm not willing to just say, "Well, what you believe is impossible," because really, it's just some level of improbable, isn't it? Or probable. Really, one is the compliment of the other, so I guess by choosing "improbable" first, I appear to be a glass-half-empty kind of guy. But in this case I picked "improbable" because I'm a fan of Douglas Adams' five-book trilogy.

Long week. Couple of respites in there (talking with Andy, dinner with friends (Sunday, Wednesday, and Thursday (because when I went to get those DVDs from The Jahnz Thursday night, they shared their pizza with me as we watched Smallville and their home videos from the tourney in St. Louis)), rehearsal on Tuesday, and even my laundromat visit on Monday was a bit of a break). Wow, I just went parenthesis-happy there. So it was a VERY long week, but with several respites from the stress of life. That's all that long bit was meant to mean.

Okay, Ruth is walking as I type, or about to, or just finished doing so. I am going to log off and give her a call.

That is, after I e-mail that company about being hired to tutor. Wish me luck with that.