The Bathroom That Wants Me Dead!!!

Starring: ME!

Okay, first: Leslie and Ruth still have another month to raise more funds... or just search that site for some poor schmoe who hasn't been able to raise the required minimum and donate to them instead...

Now, back to the new horror movie starring yours truly.

Remember that bathroom I nearly died in last year? I think it is trying to kill me. Okay, so it's only made two attempts in a fourteen-month period, so when we turn this into a screenplay, we might want to lose some of the down time--but, still, I'm worried for my life. It might try to get me again next summer.

Caution: This story contains the word "urinal". If you can't bear reading the word "urinal", you should probably not read beyond the end of the previous paragraph.

So, today (okay, yesterday, but it's still today in my head) I was in the Restroom of Harrowing Experiences, which is my new name for it.

I flushed the urinal and turned to go, letting go of the handle. The urinal did it's favorite trick, which is to do the urinal equivalent of saying, "Okay, I'm flushi--psych! I'm not flushing!"

This particular urinal does this often, and I was rolling my eyes as I was in the process of stopping to change direction a bit so I could reach back and hold down the handle. That's when it happened. My left foot just went sliding along the floor. My right foot was in mid-step. It was all very slow-motion-y, and I remembered thinking, "Okay, you're going to fall. Just fall in a way where you don't hurt yourself as much."

So, still in slow motion, I let myself fall backwards, saying a quick prayer about halfway down something along the lines of, "God, please don't let me crack my head on the urinal and bleed to death in here... and if that's a given, then please don't let my head land in the urinal." Okay, I'm kidding about the last part. I was mainly just thinking, "I can't die in this bathroom after failing to die in it last summer, right?"

The prayer was answered in the affirmative... or at least with an "Okay..." or maybe a "I'm sorry, what were you saying? Um... I mean, yes, behold my power over urinal concussions!"

Also, second miracle: Kids aren't at school right now, so the floor wasn't... um... icky. Just not cooperative with my sandals, I guess.

However, my camera, which was around my neck for reasons that are not about a creepy guy in a public restroom with a camera, but more about my room being constantly left unlocked while the building is being readied for the upcoming school year (and also more about this site and the fact I'm always taking pictures these days--only, not in the restroom), decided--or reacted according to the laws of physics, more likely, but I like thinking it had some free will--to fly up and hit me in the head. And this is no small camera.

So, I have this strange knot on my... well, not my eye, but on that bony part around the eye. It hurts. Also my elbow keeps complaining that I had plenty of time to land while going in slow motion, but apparently I didn't plan well enough to spare it any pain.

But, I survived this second attempt on my life by the forces of evil that possess that restroom. However, I'm thinking I'm gonna use the restroom next to the nurse's office from now on.

Never a dull moment, folks.

A Visit From Aunt Rachel

Twas five months before Christmas...

Forget that. Maybe in my younger days I would have taken that idea and ran with it, but I'm no spring chicken. Or any other kind of chicken. Or a spring anything.

Before I forget: Breast Cancer 3-Day Walk: Ruth, Leslie. Click the name to see their site.

Aunt Rachel is in town (and so are Cousin Karen, Cousin-in-Law Jim, and First Cousin Once Removed Cami) for Cami's softball tournament (I don't know if I'm spelling it right, but surely someone will tell me...) and I got to see them all tonight. Also, I saw First Cousin Once Removed Bryant as well.

I'm glad I got to hang out with Rachel, and not just because she wanted to buy us dinner. We got to sit around and talk, and I saw Sara, Kathy, Elizabeth, and Melanie for the first time in a while. It was a good time.

I'm very much wanting to do a full family reunion, complete with shirts. Okay, a Hickerson family reunion, specifically the offspring of Ada Hickerson. Complete, as I said, with shirts.

I watched another softball game. My second this summer. I remember enjoying playing baseball at one point. I think it started being unfun when they kept having to put me in the older kids' group, because not enough kids my age would sign up. Oh well.

Fun night. Long day yesterday with little sleep last night. Long day tomorrow. Going to bed soon. Bye.

Late Night Emotional Roller-Coaster

First, let me begin by saying Leslie & Ruth could both still use some support in raising money for their Breast Cancer Three-Day Walk. If you havn't looked at Ruth's drawing yet, to quote Riff Raff, "Go. Now."

Now, that plug and those links out of the way, I can go on to say how I've been laughing out loud for a while now over about three different things posted either on a blog or on myspace. Also, my heart has ached, and I was mortified to see I've had a typo in my profile here since the day I created it.

So, emotional roller-coaster.

A big Happy Birthday to my brother, Dane, who is celebrating the 38th anniversary of his arrival on the planet... I mean out of the womb. Whatever. No pro-life flame comments, please. Big family hoo-ha next weekend, so he'll have to wait for his card and lack-of-gift from me until then. We did just have a lovely late-night IM chat on Yahoo, although he needs to work on his closings, as now I'm wondering if something fell on the house and caused him to just suddenly stop typing.

Oh well. I guess if that's what happened, someone will call and notify me. And big shout-out goes to Patsy for THAT little attitude on life.

Mustard and...

Okay, time to play catch-up...

Tuesday I took the girls to see a BeTickled or Betickled program/concert/thingy. It was a fun concert. Maddie for some reason became shy, which was funny to see. She sat and acted like there weren't a lot of kids dancing around her. Olivia, on the other hand, seemed to really enjoy herself.

We played in the church playground afterwards, then walked over to a nearby park to play some more. It finally got to be too much for Maddie that there was this perfectly good swimming pool complete with lifeguards, and here she was without her swimsuit, so we went to have lunch.

Lunch at a fast food place... wow, I have a new respect for any parent who has taken more than one kid to a fast food place.

Anyway, active Tuesday.

Had a class all week. It was very informative, but during the parts that I got quickly, I became EXTREMELY bored and frustrated while the class kept focusing on what I'd gotten. Shades of math classes in college.

I was hoping to go to the concert thing Tuesday after next, but forgot I have a class/in-service/thingy that lasts all day every day that week.

I'm going back home for the weekend of the 29th. I'm looking forward to that, oddly enough.

Friday night I had a great duh moment. I was working, and this guy that I have delivered to was in, having ordered a pizza for carryout. I recognized him as the guy with some sort of hearing issue, as his doorbell is a "doorbell for the hearing impaired", for lack of the actual terminology, and he never "says" anything when I rattle off the "here's your order, here's what you owe me".

I looked at the carryout orders, and see one for a "bob" (and that's how it was written, and so shall I write it here). Me, being big "I used to teach basic sign language to 6th grade kids" guy, decide to sign to him "b-o-b" with an inquisitive expression, as if to say, "Are you Bob?"

He gives me this strange look, so I sign it again. Forgetting in my panic onset that I know the signs for "is", "your", and "name".

He makes a gesture for pen and paper, and we go from there. He wasn't "bob".

Right as his pizza is ready, and as I'm handing it to him, I realize my mistake. I had been signing "d-o-d" and not "b-o-b", so the poor man was probably confused as to why the Department of Defense had something to do with his pizza.

So, there's my "Stupid Mark" moment for the week. To celebrate, I went out to a drinking establishment.

And that brings me to a thought I had today about public dancing. There has to be one of three conditions for me to dance publicly: sufficient intake of adult beverages, "Love Shack", or choreography with rehearsals. Friday night, two of those conditions were met, and I was dancing and making a fool of myself, to be sure.

Well, work, work, sleep, Buffy, work, work. That's my life right now. It's not a perfect life, but it still beats last summer...

Don't forget, Ruth and Leslie could always use more donations for their Breast Cancer 3-Day Walk--and I still highly recommend viewing Ruth's page, just for the drawing she put on there.

(SFX: knock on door) Housekeeping!

Well, I've finally figured out how to add links. Hooray!

Also, I've started another blog, inspired by Reverend Andy and the movie Smoke (or whatever that movie was called.. Robert DeNiro (or someone Robert DeNiro-like) played a character who took a picture of the same spot every day in it). I'm striving to take a picture with my newly-working camera every day... and my guidelines are as follows: 1) It must capture, in some way, a part of that day, and 2) It must not contain people. I was thinking about it not containing animals, as I'm not apt to be around them much, but then I remembered the cat that thinks it lives on my porch, and how the day I finally decide it does understand what I'm saying when I say, "If you don't leave my plants alone and if you don't stop pooping all over the place here, I'm calling Animal Control," and I actually call Animal Control, I'll want to get a picture of the creature. That was a long sentence.

Leslie has made her walk goal, but both she and Ruth would both probably be okay with raising even more funds. Feel free to click on those links, if you'd like to help. (Also, Ruth's has a funny drawing she did of herself and my older sister, Rusty.)

No other news to report at this time, I guess. Housekeeping is temporarily complete.

People Are Great

Okay, I make no secret of the fact that I think people--in general--stink. I'm the inverse of Damon Wayans, who once said something along the lines of "People are a great concept, but a poor actuality." Again, not a direct quote.

When I think of people in the abstract, I tend to think they're just awful. In reality, I often times enjoy the company of people.

Oh, don't get me wrong... there are plenty of times I dont' enjoy the company of people... mostly because the people are antagonistic, irritating, or--worst of all--irritated... with ME! (How could anyone EVER be irritated with ME?)

Anyway, I sent out an e-mail plea to help my niece make her walk. It went to several people I wasn't sure read this regularly (and thus wouldn't see links--like this one--to Leslie's walk site). Not only did several people respond with positive words, etc., but several also donated, and at least one passed the link on to another family member--who also donated.

So, people are great. And I just came from delivering pizzas and I'm saying that!

P.S.: I know there are lots of reasons a good person may not be giving financial support. I'm not thinking any less of those who choose not to donate. I just want to put the opportunity out there for those who would like to take advantage of it!

Happy Birthday, Dear Rusty... a day late

My sister's birthday was yesterday... and I didn't get her called. I did, however, call Ruth from Papa John's and asked her to e-mail Say for me. I don't know if she did or not, but if she didn't, I've only myself to blame for not getting in touch with her sooner.

So it goes.

Remember, Leslie needs your support (she's walking for Say/Rusty/Lynne/her mom), and if you're a single woman, scroll down a couple of entries to read about Ty.

It's March!

Okay, not really. But it is on my website. And tomorrow I'll update to April. On Wednesday, I'll update to May, and on Thursday I'll update to June. Then, late Friday night, I can update to July and BE CAUGHT UP!

Hey, my niece Leslie is doing the Breast Cancer 3-Day Walk, and is SO CLOSE to her goal. If you feel moved to help, or would like to read about it, click here.

Tick, is it true that in those days of pizzadom, anchovies were VERY popular? Some guy told me that the other night while I was taking his order.

I've Been Alive for a Year This Week!

So Wednesday was the 52-week mark of my surviving my pulmonary emboli, and Thursday was the one-year anniversary.

Hm.

I was freaking out a little bit as those two days approached. I was nervous, and--insanely enough--constantly thinking I was about to die any second.

But it didn't interrupt with my Summer School duties.

Wow, I'm way behind here. Let's see if I can do an update-thing:

I went to bowl in OKC again this spring. Again, I'm accused of making out with someone when I really wasn't. Maybe a SMALL amount of close-talkiness, but mainly this person was just displaying how insane they were, and I was less sober than usual and not handling it well. When friends got near I was saying, "Help me, please..." but all that came from that is I got accused of making out. Go figure.

School ended without me breaking a leg and missing the last three weeks, so that was an improvement. I'll miss some of the kids... maybe about 20% of them... and that's low. This was a tough group.

Let's see... I got a solo for the last concert. It was the solo I wanted. I have found that I've stopped inviting people to come see me. Partially it's because it's not cheap, and partially from the whole rejection-thing (specifically: fear of). But people gushed. I smiled. I said, "Thank you." I'm still not comfortable with compliments. Maybe by the time I'm 50.

Still delivering pizzas. Notice my website has not been updated since February... actually, later than that. I keep thinking I'll get the other months in, but here it is almost July, and my website still says "February".

Okay, my favorite Papa John's manager, Ty, wanted me to tell people something along the lines that he's available and... well, I can't remember what I was supposed to say about his looks. It might come out sounding wrong if I'm too strong in complimenting his looks, and he--and any interested females--might be made uncomfortable. But he's available. He's 20, but finds "older women" to be attractive (but don't worry, younger ladies, I'm sure you're not out of the running entirely). To contact him... um... I don't know. Maybe leave a comment here, or stop by P.J. some evening when he's working.

That's it from me. My laundry has finished, so I'm off to bed.

Oh, Vieta, I got your blog comment right as I was getting ready to post this. How's that for strange? Still thinking of you and sending good thoughts your way.

Well, I Ain't Writin' No Haiku About It

Ruth left me a message last night that Uncle Jim passed away Sunday around noon.

Uncle Jim was Aunt Lois' husband.

So guess who is doing the officiatin'? There was a rumor going around that Olivet Christian Church in Center wasn't going to let any guest officiants after that mess that was the message at my aunt's service. Apparently this rumor is not-so-reality-based.

The service is Saturday, and like previous funerals involving husbands (or former husbands) of my aunts, I don't think I'll make it.

(At least I don't think I made it to Deana Mae's husband's funeral. I was pretty young at the time, but maybe I was there... one of my earliest memories was of seeing him still alive, though.)
Rachel's former husband Bill passed away back in 1999, I think... I know the service was on the day Ruth and I had to move out of that duplex in Overland Park, anyway. So I didn't make that one.

This time around, since I'm afraid I could go to prison for aiding my Aunt Rachel in killing "that S.O.B." that spoke so... well, "insultingly" doesn't really cut it, does it?

Anyway, I'm afraid I'd be all-too-cooperative in any plan she had to harm "that S.O.B.", so I think I'll stay away. I'm not sure if Dane is going. I need to see if we'd all like to contribute to some sort of flower arrangement or something.

There was this time when I was very young--say, mid-elementary age or so--and I realized my dad was so much older than everyone else's dad. Shawn Couch's dad coached us in little league, and did stuff with us. My dad was mostly... well, old and in the very early stages of the emphysema that finally took his life in the mid-80s. I remember thinking something along the lines of, "So, who do I have in the family who is like a younger dad?"

Uncle Jim came the closest. Uncle Bill (Rachel's husband) was way off in Omaha. I remember thinking it should be my mission in life to hang out with Uncle Jim, but on my next visit out to their place, I realized he was way too busy to hang out with me--and plus, most of the stuff they did on the farm was so foreign to me, I'd be of no use around the place.

I hadn't thought much about that until just now. Odd stuff, eh?

Anyway, I basically accepted that I didn't really have a "younger dad" figure like most of the kids I knew did, and I moved on with my life. Until now, when I've suddenly decided to dwell on it.

Okay, back to the discussion about urine samples in trucks.

The Great Orange Juice Fiasco

Okay, picture it: It's a lovely somewhat-spring-like morning. I had to run to the bank during plan time, because we were having Penny Wars at school, and I have an account at a bank that allows me to use the change-counting machine for not charge.

I'm on my way from the bank, a few strange coins that didn't want to go through the machine are in my pocket. I have the brilliant idea of stopping by Sonic to get an orange juice (because orange juice with crushed ice just ROCKS), and thus have some change to replace the change that wouldn't go through the machine.

I buy my orange juice with no problems at all. I put the straw in and have a sip. I have a drink carrier-thingy in the car, and I open it. I set the Styrofoam-like drinking container in the carrier, and vaguely notice it isn't a tight fit--a bit the opposite, really. However, I was getting ready to pull out into traffic, and didn't have time for such minor details.

I turn into traffic, and my precious, precious, PRECIOUS drink goes flipping over onto the passenger floorboard...

...and it lands "head first"...

...and the straw is forced up through the bottom of the container...

...and suddenly I've got this container that is leaking--scratch that--GUSHING orange juice from both ends.

Now, a little about my car: The driver's side window doesn't roll down.

So, keeping in mind that I've just entered traffic (and it wasn't THAT bad, but still, there were many vehicles I could have easily hit while driving and dealing with this container), and I'm holding this thing in my hand. Orange juice is getting on me, on the floorboard, on the drink caddy, and on my little catch-all between the seats.

Again, I can't just toss it out my window, as it won't roll down.

The up side? I had to deliver pizza that night, so I'd brought a change of pants with me.

All in all, I found this to be an enjoyable event, but I'd rather not repeat it.

Let this be a lesson to you that you should never trust a drink to stay in the drink caddy.

Take Your Child Out Of School Day

Don't get me wrong: I think taking your child to work to learn about what you do is a great educational tool. However, I think it's stupid as all get-out to have it during the school year.

No, it's not that I mind having only two classes of kids, and three additional planning periods. No, I don't mind making up some fluff lesson about careers and math for only 40% or so of my students.

But it is such a stupid waste having this during the school year. And, it totally marginalizes careers in education.

I mean, if you are of school age, and your parent is a teacher, there's no reason to go to work with him or her on this day, as YOU SPEND MOST EVERY WEEKDAY FROM MID-AUGUST TO LATE-MAY WATCHING A TEACHER WORK. So it's not as if we have to have it during the school year so the children of teacher can get an idea of what this whole teaching-thing is about. Also, trust me, teaching on this day is NOTHING like teaching on most any other day of the year.

So, I move that we either change the name of this day to "Take Your Child Out Of School Day" or move it to the summer, when schools are traditionally not in session. Teachers with kids can take them to their summer job, or to the classes they are obligated to take... or choose some other way to show their kids to be sure to pick a career that recognizes hard work with financial reward, not scorn, heartache, and high blood pressure.

I kid.

But seriously, when you have only so many days to teach kids WAY too many objectives, days like tomorrow are just a huge frustration.

However, I will be enjoying having several hours of plan time tomorrow.

Coming soon: The Great Orange Juice Fiasco (it's fun... I nearly wreck my car!)

Flat Tire from Hell

Okay, it wasn't from Hell, but you know what, everything is right now, which is the point I want to make.

My schedule right now is so wall-to-wall, I'm going crazy. Yes, there are a couple of things I could cut out, and I know this, but these are the keeping-me-sane things (chorus and dinner with friends and bowling). Plus, if I cut them out, it would free up more time to work, which would be nice financially, but I'd be dead in a week.

Anyway, this morning, on my way to work, I had a flat tire. There went my WHOLE DAY!

I walked to NKC Hospital when I realized the tire WOULD NOT COME OFF (see the report on Christmas Day 2005 for a similar experience on my part) and called the school from there. Of course, the secretary didn't appreciate me starting off with, "This is Mark. I'm at NKC Hospital."

But someone sent the resource officer after me, and I got to school mostly on time.

Then my planning time started with Bowman (I'm sure I've said elsewhere what a great guy Bowman is, but I'll say it again, just to make the point clear: Bowman is a great guy) and I going to my car and trying to ge the flat tire off the car.

That done, we returned to school, where anything I was going to get done got almost done. I have an application for this summer learning thing to get completed, this other application for some sort of financial assistance completed, and--oh yeah, TAXES to get completed. WHEN!?!

Anyway, all my plans for AFTER SCHOOL were shot, because I had to go get a new tire. Wal-Mart took way too long, and the guy didn't read the note about the door being tricky to open, and he actually made my trick door handle WORSE. But, whatever, no time to kvetch and moan to management, because now instead of running my errand, calling Lyndsey, sneaking in a 30 minute nap, and THEN going to rehearsal, I had to go to rehearsal and arrive late.

Anyway, that's why everything is from Hell these days--especially if it unexpectedly takes up any of my time.

Okay, I am going to watch something on TV for a while, maybe a show I've taped, and then I'm going to get my stuff out of the dryer.

Hope all is well in everyone's world.

Church, Rounds Two and Three

Not that I'm wanting to compare it to a boxing match or anything...

The second week, I sat with JEC's sister, Robyn. Early on iin the visit, before things got started, I noticed a sign over the door I normally did not use. It read: SERVANT'S ENTRANCE.

I gasped, and made some comment to Robyn about it, and she laughed... then explained that the sign was over the door you were walking OUT of... so... SERVANT'S ENTRANCE to the WORLD, you see...

And plus, duh me, there was one just like it over the door I'd gone out the week before.

Anyway, it set a lighter tone for the service, and I felt okay for the whole thing.

Last week I sat with John, JEC's dad, and things were fine again. There's something internal going on with me, and I don't know what it is exactly, but at least it's not leaving me an emotional wreck each week.

And I'm liking going, so keep going I shall, methinks.

And methinks I use "methinks" too much.

Dryer

So, why am I on the computer, posting these things instead of sleeping?

I'm glad I assumed you asked me that question...

My dryer has some sort of timer issue. It doesn't know to stop after such-and-such time of drying. So I have to stay awake to finish my laundry (yes, I know, you get wrinkles if you turn on the dryer and then go to bed, but what do I care about wrinkles?) and it's just one more thing that's KILLING ME!

Because I'm all tired and stuff.

And the stupid part is, I have another dryer down there. I just need to take the time to hook it up... but it is a smaller capacity dryer, and plus, I don't have time to hook it up, with all the staying-up-late I'm doing to do laundry now.

So it goes.

Concert

As promised: THE CONCERT!

The concert went pretty well, I think. Maybe someone who attended can post a comment. I'm not a huge Judy fan myself, but I liked a lot of the songs in the concert.

I had a speaking part, and didn't sing most of the concert. I did have a solo, and apparently I have some sort of Ethel Merman-like attribute to my singing.

Finding my costume was a bit of a chore, and I don't know that I was as happy with the end result as I could have been with a huge budget, but it was okay enough. I think I was spoiled by my costume for the holiday concert in December. If you've seen the pic of me in a purple suit, I think you'll know why!

It was odd not rehearsing with the rest of the chorus for most of the concert. I missed that. I'm looking forward to this next one.

Some day I want everyone to come to the same concert, so I win the "most people came to see you" prize. I think there's a gift certificate of some sort.

Okay, everyone but Jhoneric, who can't stand the "hand jive" aspect.

GROSS

Well, I'm sure JEC can explain it better than I can, but I think that comment was either: 1) an honest reaction to me sharing emotions, etc., which, if I were to do in person--as I seldom do--would seem sorta strange to me (and him, methinks) or 2) an attempt to sound like a middle school girl who just found out there are urinals in the boys room. I'm not sure which... and those are just theories.

By Popular Demand

I should be going to bed, but I want to write this down before I forget some of the things I remembered earlier tonight...

I don't work as hard as I should to hide it, but in general, I have this wonderful wellspring of anger that I can pull from any time I need it. I don't mean "wonderful" in the good way.

Anyway, I coast at angry, with plenty more where that came from. It's there when I need it.

So, over the past... I don't know... 10 months or so, my cup of anger has just runneth over. I mean, I had an abundance to begin with, and now I've got it in spades.

Also, Andy-the-sometimes-commenter had made a comment to me in person about not everyone in a pew necessarily knows what they believe, and that stuck with me.

So, with these two things in my mind (the anger and the pew-thing), I'd been thinking--since late December, actually--of going to a church service where Andy-the-sometimes-commenter was... um... preacherizing... or ministerizing... or whatever the verb is. The big reason was I wondered if being at a service and singing some songs with a bunch of strangers who--in theory, anyway--weren't angry hate-mongers might help me with this overabundance of anger. So I planned to go the first Sunday of the year this year.

Well, there was always SOMETHING... the fact that I work the full-time teaching job and the 17-to-26 hour pizza delivery job (and thus have very little ME time--something else to get angry about) being the most popular reason... although that didn't start until February. January 1st was an issue because... well, it was January 1st.

Anyway, after much putting-it-off-ed-ness, I managed to figure out how to avoid avoiding it: e-mail Andy and say I was thinking of going, and needed to know what people tend to wear to this particular service--which was very true, because I have no clue about such things.

Thus, having said I was planning it, I had the additional motivation to actually wake up, shower, get gussied up, and attend.

This all came to pass, and at 10:20-something I was walking in to the doors (I wasn't sure if it was the right door, but it looked like the best bet) of the Methodist Church in question.

I saw Robin (Jhoneric's sister), her daughter Miranda, Andy, and John (Jhoneric's dad), and I made sure all of them knew Jhoneric was not to know of this trip of mine down the path of going-to-church-ed-ness.

There was something... almost from the time I woke up, really, but intensified once I was actually in the church--there was this something. I'll try to vague that up for you. Or clarify it.

It wasn't like an adventure, and it wasn't like anticipation. I guess it was mostly like... I don't know. Wonder? I don't know. I just had this sense of "Wow, this is not entirely outside my range of experience, but I haven't experienced anything in this range for a long while." That will have to do, but I'm not capturing the feeling.

Anyway, I opt to sit with John, and I read the program--or whatever it's called--and make chit-chat with John.

Alberta (Jhoneric's mom) was the liturgist (and judging by the context, that translates to "person who reads stuff"), and she started the service by saying, "Welcome home."

Now, promise me you'll read on even if you think I'm a total bastard after this next paragraph.

Without even a millisecond's thought, my brain said, "Oh, jeez, "welcome home", whatever."

And I didn't think anything of that reaction. It made perfect sense. I'm a cynical person. I know this.

Then the pianist started playing some song, and that was the end of the ball game. I don't think my brother Eddie is right--I don't think songs make people cry, but I do think music has it's own special key to everyone's heart, and it has a way of getting to places words alone cannot reach.

Yeah, okay, stupid, perhaps. But I hope you get the idea of what I mean.

There I was, crying, but trying real hard not to be loud about it. First of all, I didn't know WHY I was crying, so I didn't want to draw attention to myself, in case someone should ask. Secondly, can you imagine being John, sitting next to me, and suddenly I'm a basket case?

Part of it was me realizing that what Alberta said was... well, I mean true, but I don't like that word for what I mean, so... I don't know what I mean.

It was like someone in some foreign land said, "Welcome home," and just as I'm thinking "whatever", they open the door and right there is everything I've ever loved--most of which I thought I'd lost. I guess I mean like something that feels like finally coming home where you least expected it. But again, I'm saying it wrong. It's great that I'm so good with words, eh?

Anyway, I'm leaking out my eyes, hoping John isn't noticing and wondering if I'm more insane than usual. And prayers are the worst, because I instinctively close my eyes out of childhood habit, and when I open them, all this backed-up tearage comes running down my face.

I wanted to run out... or walk out in a "oops, I left the oven on... be back in a jiff" sort of way, but John was on one side, and... I can't remember who was on the other side. But I couldn't just slip out without people maybe glancing at my face and thinking, "Ah, nervous breakdown. How nice."

I kept wondering if there was a park nearby. I just wanted to get outside and breathe and try to come to grips with whatever had come over me, and maybe do so in a park sitting where I could sorta... collect my thoughts.

And, in TV terms, what was going through my head was from Season 6, Episode 22 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, when Willow, who was evil at the time, suddenly got a burst of magic that allowed her to feel what everyone was feeling, and she says, "It's too much... it's too much."

Seriously, folks, this was in the first 10 minutes or so.

As you may have guessed, when it came time to sing, I was worthless. Less singing and more croaking.

Anyway, when it came time for the message/sermon/what-have-you, I was maintaining a bit better.

Here's what I have to say about that part: If it's par for the course, I'm thinking I'm going to like this church. I won't go into the details here, in case Andy should decide to publish his collected what-have-yous, but the points that stuck in my head are: 1) Love is all you need. 2) It's not your love to give, just allow it to be given through you.

I would love to repeat the whole thing, but I didn't memorize it, and I've already gone on way too long here.

By the time the whole thing was over, I was less emotional and more about figuring out what happened to me.

Oh, and I knew I had to tell Jhoneric as soon as I got home, because I knew I wanted to come back... so, the sooner I got that over with, the better.

I didn't discuss what happened with JEC, but I did want to discuss it with SOMEONE. I had no idea who or when. I had a concert to perform in that late afternoon (more on the concert soon, I promise), so I couldn't bring it up to Tricia at their place--since I wouldn't be there. I wanted to talk to Patrick about it, but he ended up not working on Monday night. I was going to talk to Lyndsey about it, but by the time I got around to it Tuesday night at their place, Damien had gotten home, and I didn't think I could tell the tale for the first time to an audience of two.

Also, I've so firmly established myself as anti-church to so many people, I didn't want to have to deal with that aspect of the conversation. I spent a good part of my alone-time this week trying to figure out what that was all about.

Tonight (or this morning, I guess) after work, I just decided to talk to Patrick about it. So now I can share it with anyone on the internet who happens to stumble across it.

I'm going tomorrow... er... today. I'm hoping I'm not overwhelmed again. I'm hoping it's not as full of surprises--the internal emotional kind, I mean.. Hope springs eternal. Hope Springs, Indiana.

Wish me luck.

Spring Break: The End is Nigh

Well, Spring Break is almost over. I did accomplish many things I wanted to accomplish. It's too bad the concert was this weekend (and thus tech week was this week), because I would have enjoyed going out of town. Of course, if I hadn't been doing tech week, I would have had my schedule at Papa John's to think about, so never mind.

But, the Christmas decorations are now in the basment (I took them down on January 7th, as always, but as life has been a bit too busy of late, I hadn't been moved to get the boxes down in the basement until this week).

I've gotten some good rest, I think and the last 9 weeks of school (or however many it is) don't look as daunting as they did before I got this rest.

I've had an emotional Sunday, and maybe I'll go into the details later. I am feeling better today than I have for a while, anyway.

Also, I need to post the Saga of Mom's Ashes at some point. It's a tale rife with intrigue and confusion... the confusion caused mostly by the alcoholic villain of the piece. (Can you guess his name?) But that will have to come later. I need to get a nap in before tonight's performance. Or maybe I need to make breakfast/lunch. Something needs to be done, at any rate.

Not to mention those papers I need to finish grading.

There's the Cat, with the Nine, and the Physic

One of my favorite Patsy expressions is "I'm busier than a cat with nine assholes that's been given a physic."

And I am.

I'm working a second job now, and rehearsing, and working on the upcoming bowling tournament. In short: overextended.

Anyway, I hope everything is okay. Vieta sent me a great e-mail that made me smile a while back, and this is my shout-out to her for doing that.

Stay well, everyone.