Archive for July, 2007

The epiphany

July 9, 2007 | Filed under: Whoopdie Doo

“Being out of control is one of the worst feelings in the world, sometimes even worse than pain. It is its own kind of pain.” ~Danzae Pace

Remember the other day, when I admitted to being neglectful of making lists though far better than my younger Africa bound, sibling who thought that lists were for pussies? This weekend, I decided to dip my toe into the tepid water of list making. A territory that I was sure I was not meant for because it required focus and some semblance of organization.

This list was everything that needed to be done on Sunday. It held some important information like “call Uhaul” so that I didn’t end up walking my possessions from Washington, DC to New York. And also such gems as “Figure out how to Patty Hearst, Kris’ ass” and “email D&P about the flight attendant who Jack saw and what Kate did” , because obviously the recollection of the goings on of Lost are just as important as “pack for 9 day trip to DC”. I also had on there “drink a beer”. Just so I wouldn’t forget that I had saved 3 dub-dub points for that fucking beer so I’m drinking it come hell or high water. There was also some other jibberish and maybe something about heel savers for my new shoes.

That last point was completely moot because the new shoes are apparently indestructible so says my cobbler.

Anyway, making a list was far from the agony that I had previously imagined. Instead it warmed the cockles of my heart and every time I got to drag a red pen across an item, I sighed the sweet, sweet sigh of someone who is accomplishing things. As opposed to that I would definitely do something and then noticing a shiny object on the floor, I actually completed tasks.

I now feel worthy of that beer and less like a lazy invalid whose indolence has gotten out of control. I mean I even wrote down and completed the very important task of ordering Harry Potter tickets. At least I’m well aware of my priorities.

We harrass each other out of love

July 6, 2007 | Filed under: Familia

“The mildest, drowsiest sister has been known to turn tiger if her sibling is in trouble.”  ~Clara Ortega

When my mother went to Prague in October of 2001, I subsisted on a diet of peach schnapps and frozen thin mints. I bit my nails and cuticles until they bled. She left six weeks after a terrorist attack and was very ‘ho hum’ about it all. Meanwhile our last conversation was a constant loop in my head. A conversation during which she told me who to call in the event anything should happen and where her will was located and that my inheritance had already been promised to American University, so I shouldn’t be expecting anything.

I’m not one to usually miss my parents or family in such extreme ways, interesting given my fondness for going to the extreme. But there was such a strong and recent fear that something would happen that I could hardly control myself. Everything I did during the 10 days she was in Prague was completely methodical and done in such a way that it was as if I had no control. That’s how strong and real the fear was.

Fear not, because now she’ll leave the country and I tend to forget and then when I do remember I frantically send her an email reminding her to stop at Zara on La Rambla or to get me my favorite perfume in Paris. Then I go back to my humdrum life of being distracted by shiny objects.

I was able to joke about G not having a list for going to Senegal (then Ghana) because it was days away, so it didn’t feel real. We’re notorious for our ups and downs and for attempting to kill each other and locking each other outside for hours. But he’s my baby brother and I love him with the fire of a billion suns and I think I might spend the next five weeks biting my nails until they bleed and drinking Hefeweizen and listening to the CD he made me last night.

It’s torture knowing that someone you love – but would never dare let him know – is so very far away in such an unfamiliar place. My mind goes to those extremes and “what ifs” because that’s just how I work, I think the worse.

He’ll of course come back in five weeks and I’ll complain about not having the bathroom to myself anymore and why I didn’t bust down the wall between our rooms to make a master suite for myself. I’ll complain that he stole my DVDs and opens my netflix envelopes and I’ll have to resist the urge to crack a bottle of wine over his head.

But until then I’m totally going to miss that infuriating, maddening, giant sized, motherfucker.

I’m going to start making lists

July 3, 2007 | Filed under: Familia, Humdrum

” Putting off an easy thing makes it hard. Putting off a hard thing makes it impossible. ” ~George Claude Lorimer

I, being one of the most flighty individuals that ever graced the earth, find list making to be some sort of foreign activity reserved for special occasions. “Sticking to task” is not my forte and is something that very boring people do. I like to fly by the seat of my pants and to delve into something and then move onto the next thing. I tell myself that I have tons of time and then procrastinate further.

I try to make it sound so very charming and endearing: “Oh, how I love to just put all of my cares into the wind…live life as it comes. How lovely.” But really my lack of process only leads to dire stress and pain and tears and excessive consumption of beer and hand wringing. It’s just so very awful and so I end up lying in bed until the wee hours praying fervently to whichever deity will listen, for relief and giving promises of becoming a better and more altruistic person in return for relieving me of my self induced stress.

G leaves for Ghana on Wednesday. That would be the Wednesday roughly 36 hours from today. I thought he left Friday and when he said that he was leaving on Wednesday with nary a malaria pill or t-shirt packed, my heart dropped into my stomach for him. My cousin and I both interrogated him as to where exactly his list was. He HAD to have a list. How does one just go to Ghana without a very long list of things to pack? It’s not like you walk out onto the streets of Accra and lo and behold there’s a Target just in case you forget anything. It’s GHANA. I kept repeating this to him over and over again.

“Chill the fuck out. I packed for Las Vegas the night before. I have everything I need it just needs to go into a bag”

People, here is a good time to pause and well…list…the stringent differences between Las Vegas and Ghana. The first being the lack of an Hermes store and free alcohol while playing nickel slots. Also a lack of big and tall stores for my linebacker sized brother.

I kept sitting here talking to my cousin about why he didn’t have a fucking list. Ok fine, I’m not the most organized person in the world but I feel that leaving the country requires focus and list making and making sure that one is well equipped with anti-diarrheal medication. Then she – in her uber mom mode – started rattling off her various lists: one for tonight, one for tomorrow morning and one for tomorrow afternoon. Her list for tonight includes “going to bed early.”

“I can’t tell you the rush I get every time I get to cross something off. It’s exhilarating. You’ll see, once you have children, you’ll be a list maker.”

I’ll question the validity of that statement until I do have children of my own. But for now, I just want to remove G from the trance of Engaged and Underaged and remind him of what malaria parasites can do and that maybe, just maybe, he might want to at least write down ‘bug spray’ and ‘mosquito net’ before he returns with hypoglycemia and renal failure.

Melissa

July 1, 2007 | Filed under: Familia, Humdrum

“Babies are such a nice way to start people.” ~Don Herrold

I feel like I’ve had a rough week. I’m tired and cranky with a side of restlessness as I’m settling into things. Though yesterday afternoon I realized that my crankiness and feelings of being unsettled and generally ‘floppy’ do not compare to those of a newborn. I mean, one day you’re inside all warm and cozy and everything is wonderful and blissful and next thing you know, you’re being ripped from your habitat and thrust into a world where it’s like 95% humidity even in the shade and the light…oh the fucking light…it’s everywhere. People are poking and prodding you and all you want to do is be left alone and get some fucking sleep.

When I tried to coax my niece awake yesterday by poking her, I started to feel bad because she’s had a pretty shitty week and she wanted some rest and there I – along with her parents – were telling her to wake the fuck up because when I show my father these photos, he’s going wonder if the child has eyeballs. And I’m going to have to say “I really don’t know.”

I also realized yesterday that I would make the worst mother ever, because I find newborns to be so very boring, but also, if my brothers continue to have children and G gets the five (oh yes, FIVE) children that he so desires, then I can never have children, and neither of my parents will notice. Besides, my father has a hard time remembering MY name, so I wouldn’t want to add more burden to his life by forcing him to remember anymore names than he already has to.