What Classic Pin-up Are You? by Medox

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my days feel both full and empty. if i make a list of what i have spent my time doing, it seems like a lot. so maybe it’s just me that feels empty.

i don’t feel fulfilled right now somehow. i still have a ton to do before i go back to richmond tomorrow. i want to put up a bunch of the christmas stuff at home, especially. i also want to get back to richmond to do the same thing there.

being at home without mom has not been as scary as i had imagined. a little different, kind of lonely at times – i get a homesickness while i am home and realize it is her that i am missing. but for the most part it’s been okay. i’ve spent a couple hours with her each day, and gotten used to the hospital scene. at home i am trying to fill her void for my sister and dad. tanja and i have had the exact opposite reaction to mommy’s absence. she feels it’s a good excuse to be lax about everything, and i go into perfectionist overdrive.

i miss cree- who is frantically and tipsily IMing me- and sam, who is not. will these things never straighten themselves out? crushes around the holidays are a dangerous thing. in 10th grade after giving the boy i was jonesing for -teddy- his christmas present i promptly fell down 3 carpeted stairs, f-ed up my ankle, and landed myself on a crutch for the holidays. tiny tim jokes everywhere.

there were crush-fakeouts with quinn every now and then back in the day… i eventually realized that it was a just manifestation of being reunited with my wavelength twin for a few precious days. having someone who knows what you’re thinking without you having to say it is a pretty powerful thing. or hearing someone verbalize a thought you were having at that moment… inviting alcohol into the situation always made me squint through the haze at him and wonder…but then i shook myself out of it with a mini-shudder.

then of course there is my annual christmastime crush. it’s beginning to seem like i associate the holidays with him, which i think i like but has the potential to become something i long for too much. every year i think things will be fine and friendly and normal, and every year i plummet heart-first into a real-deal, blushing, giggling, silly #1 crush. it lasts the few days we are together in which i want to hold hands and kiss and try not to always watch him across the room. and i spend the time we’re apart daydreaming about waking up together. but then we’re apart again, and i float back down to earth and real life and wait for next december to come ’round.

ah, the holiday + infatuation equation. the mistletoe has been up in our house for weeks now.

PS sam did IM. i am definately crushable.

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i got up earlyish and have been in the kitchen since. the sherry hot fruit casserole is perfect, as is the red cabbage. the layered vegetable salad has been nixed, as my sister and i realized that no one actually likes it very much. my sweet potato pie -an addition to the menu because one of the teachers at school gave me some sweet potatoes she grew on her farm -is baking right now and looks good so far. which brings me to my mom’s famous german apple cake. i thought i had it perfect but came to gasp as i peered through the oven window to see that the dough had overcome and hidden the apple quarters that are supposed to rest prettily on top. i went over the recipe and realized i made such a stupid mistake -baking soda instead of powder- and i feel like a moron. i was immediately on the phone with my mom, who said it should still taste fine, that i should dust it with confectioner’s sugar and most people won’t be able to tell anyway. i think she was maybe trying not to laugh. although she did say if it looked terrible not to bring it. i figure 3 1/2 for 4 items isn’t too bad for the first thanksgiving foods i’ve prepared solo. here’s hoping it’s palatable.

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I’m sick. And a tad spacey. I can roll through the day all right, pet the cats and stuff like that, but then I can’t really remember what I’ve said, when I’ve said it, or to whom it was told. I was reading over Matt’s post, about being tapped as the “most cynical.” Then seeing my name come next made me wonder, “Was that me that said that?” Or is that my vanity working in overdrive? Why can’t I remember specifics of conversations from a few days ago right now? Is it that my head is jam-packed with phlegm? Cripes. Well, if it was me… correction: If it WERE me (see also: use of plural form in cases of supposition. Man! Why can’t anyone get that grammar factoid right?), then it must have been some offhand, joking comment, so there couldn’t have been any additional “bad things” for Matt to worry about. And, jeez, I didn’t think anyone ever listened to my prattling-on. So, if it was/were me, Matt, I hope you forgive me. Trust that, for me, cynicism is a step in the path to enlightenment.

Or frustration.

I can never remember which.

Anyway, this morning I went through the three stages of phlegm. Man, I love getting a cold. That’s sarcasm, by the way. Seems things settle and harden for the sickly, like me, at night with the dry, furnace air. First came the almost papery stuff from my first cough. I’d never seen phlegm fold until today. I still cannot really believe it, but I saw it there in the sink, bent over on itself like a soggy egg noodle.

“Less pondering. More hacking,” say my sinuses.

Very soon I felt like Ron in the new Harry Potter movie, coughing up slugs, those little green ones well on their way to forming their own solidified bodies. Sigh.

I hate getting colds.

After about ten minutes of coughing and trying to blow this stuff out, I had at last worked my way down to the weakest reserves of the phlegm contingent: the yellow congealed stuff. Barely more than snot, really. Soon, it was over and I was back to my dry, hacking-cough self.

Did I mention I really detest getting colds?

Now I prepare to lie back down for a night’s sleep, when the phlegm hordes will again take my listlessness as an opportunity to rise up and seize what control they can.

Bastards.

1. First grade teacher’s name:
Mrs. Lamb. She was kind. Thinking back though, she might have been my kindergarten teacher. But no matter. She’s still great.

2. Last word you said:

“Okay.” Said to my wife as she headed upstairs to bed, admonishing me not to stay up too late on the computer. And yet here I am. Stupid, stupid, stupid Ray.

3. Last song you sang:
I can’t really remember, as singing while sick doesn’t really produce much worth hearing. Perhaps “Let me clear my throat” a few days ago. Ironically appropriate. Which reminds me of Matt’s piece on the ironic music. He’s right. It is the musical definition of the word.

4. Last person you hugged:
The wifey. Mmmm. I missed being home. I just hope I don’t give her this cold.

5. Last thing you laughed at:
My cat. She’s wacky.

6. Last time you said ‘I love you’:
To my wife as she headed up to bed.

7. Last time you cried:
August 20th.

8. What’s in your CD player:
In the audio CD deck, The Moldau. In the computer, design files from the trip to Richmond.

9. What color socks are you wearing:
White. Hey, I’m sick. Back off.

10. What’s under your bed:
Bed parts.

11. What time did you wake up today:
4:14am. 5:42ish. 9:48ish. Like I said. I’m sick.

12. Current taste:
My mouth feels like the Sahara just blew threw it. Add a little bit of Ben & Jerry’s Karamel Sutra from earlier and you get the picture.

13. Current hair:
Shorn, baby. Shorn.

14. Current clothes:
Slippers. Athletic socks. Dark grey sweatpants. White t-shirt. Light grey hooded sweatshirt. Like I said, I’m sick.

15. Current annoyance:
phlegm

16. Current longing:
to be well.

17. Current desktop picture:
A picture of the shadow of a cyclist riding the rocks in Moab.

18. Current worry:
Not for you to know. Sorry.

19. Current hate:
I don’t like hate, either. But I’d have to say that a) assigning an oil hack to head the senate committee on the environment b)rejiggering environmental regulations to benefit the timber industry and c)just being a general, all-around, swaggering jackass when you should be acting like the President rank fairly high up there.

20. Story behind your screenname:
What’s a screenname? You mean like “Buck Naked?”

21. Current favorite article of clothing:
My wool cap. Those of you with hair have no idea how cold it can be without it.

22. Favorite physical feature of the opposite sex:
a smile.

23. Favorite physical feature of the same sex:
I find the jaw line interesting. Same with triceps and quads.

24. Last CD that you bought:
Shh. It’s a secret.

25. Favorite place to be:
With my wife. That’s when I am “home.”

26. Least favorite place:
Away from my wife.

27. Time you wake up in the morning:
Typically a bit before six, but lately I’ve been a huge slack ass, what with the snot affliction and all.

28. If you could play an instrument, what would it be:
Classical guitar

29. Favorite color:
So, so, so many of them. Red. Greens. Blues are cool. Brilliant orange is always fun.

30. Do you believe in an afterlife:
Maybe

31. How tall are you:
6′1″

32. Current favorite word/saying:
“I love you.”

33. Favorite book:
Many. “Killer Angels” springs to mind for some reason.

34. Favorite season:
Spring. Flowers. Crisp air. Birds. Animals. And finally getting off the indoor trainer and out onto the dirt.

35. One person from your past you wish you could go back and talk to:
My grandfather.

36. Favorite day:
Today.

37. Where do you want to go:
To bed. With my wife. To the Tour de France. Far. To Glacier, the Tetons. Yosemite, again. The next place. On and on.

38. What is your career going to be like:
Mmmm…

39. How many kids do you want:
How many can I have?

40. What kind of car will you have:
In the immediate future I suppose it will still be the one I have now… Unless you know something I don’t?

41. Type a line you remember from any book:
Yea tho I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou dost preparest are table for me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou annointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over.

42. A random lyric:
“I think I’ll die another day” (Hey, I saw the new Bond flick, okay?)

43. Identify some things surrounding your computer:
Loads of shit. Paper, paper, paper. I thought these freakin’ things were supposed to eliminate paper. Hmm. Slides and more slides. Random CDs. Pens. Cartman. A desk lamp. Pictures of biking. Some digital video tapes. A loupe. A stapler. An exercise log. A measuring tape.

44. What’s up next:
Sleep beneath warm sheets and snuggly blankets next to my heat-generating wife. ‘Night!

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and the strange thanksgiving begins.

i spent three and a half music-less* hours in traffic to get home today. upon coming home, in my mania** i decided that when my father, sister, and i go to the keatings’*** tomorrow, we will be perfect. i will do everything my mom would be doing, everyone will be amazed, and everyone will tell her later how well i did and that she should be proud of me. i spent some time accumulating recipes for the dishes she was to bring, and i will spend tomorrow morning creating a layered vegetable salad, red cabbage, a sherry hot fruit casserole, and her signature german apple cake. (the keatings do the stuffing and turkey and cranberry-in-the-form-of-a-can, and the hirws always bring the intercontinental flair.) i have never made any of these things but i will be damned if i don’t make them all perfectly tomorrow.

yes, i know i am being dumb and transferring my feelings of loss and confusion semi-consciously into mimicking my mother’s abilities in order to indirectly show her that in the end i will be okay and she has done a fine job raising a wonderful young woman.

i had a hard time at the hospital when i realized that she is in pain. for all the chemicals that have been shot into her body over the past 14 years as a cancer patient, my mother eschews an amazing amount of medicine. she’s not a tylenol junkie or advil-popper like your average citizen; she willingly rides out a headache or the sniffles sans over-the-counter-assistance. today i saw her finally take up an offer of painkillers – tylenol with codine – and i realized how much she must be hurting. the tube that runs out of her lung, under her skin, out her chest, and into the drain is at least an inch in diameter. she admitted to me later that the procedure hurt more than either of the two cesarian-sections she had when tanja and i were born.

knowing i can’t really help the big picture i have turned obsessive in my attention to her needs. tanja and i helped her get through routines most take for granted – getting to the bathroom, washing up, brushing her teeth. i OCDed around her side of the room until everything was precise in its organization, proximity to the bed, and perpendicular angles. i didn’t know what else to do. i still don’t know what to do. i sit here alone and awake feeling restless, wanting to do something and be something i can not put words to.

* the antenna flew off my car several weeks ago as i drove down 95 back to richmond from fairfax. i did not realize it at the time or i would have pulled over to retrieve it. wal-mart, target, and advanced auto parts do not carry antenna for 96 ford tauruses. i have no CD player or tape player because my very cool oval console is unique and does not fit standard-shaped audio units. at one point desperate for noise i was ringing ‘america the beautiful’ and ‘the star-spangled banner’ over and over because they are two songs to which i know all the words.

** i have a bad habit of getting sleepy behind the wheel. today in the traffic, post lunch in the afternoon sun, it was especially bad. i caved and dug through my glove compartment for some vivarin. lalalalalalalala. i was still wired hours later. i am easy like that.

*** margaret keating is my mother’s best friend. she and her ex-husband tim used to live down the street from us. they have since divorced and moved but are friends, and we spent most holidays with them and their extended family.

i feel no closure ending in footnotes.

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tomorrow i spend my first thanksgiving not only away from home, but away from my entire family. not even any pseudo-family (or family measured by closeness, rather than by blood). i will be spending it with kurt, mike and kurt’s family. its not that i dont love those kids; its just not been long enough for me to be super close to them yet.

so its a little depressing. as linda left in voicemail for me today ‘weird thanksgivings all around.’ she is correct. (someones car alarm/horn is going off outside. there, it stopped. finally.)

i took john to lax this afternoon. traffic made it an hour trip each way. the way back, i took surface roads, already knowing how bad the freeways were (they arent interstates out here. so bizarre. even more strange is that ive adopted it.) the route back was straightforward. 2 roads – century blvd to western. western for miles until i got to 2 blocks from my place. but this route took me through inglewood and close to compton. well, closer to south central than ive been thus far. (i kept hearing dr dre in my head ‘compton, long beach, inglewood.’ i did panic a bit, only because of all the recent gang violence. but then i got over it. seems so silly to worry about. i dont like dealing with racial issues. i prefer to ignore them. well, i feel like acknowledging them only feeds the problem. faulty logic perhaps.

in class today, iraq cam eup for 2 seconds. it made me think of war and then nuclear war. then how i was in la. and how, in the next second, a bomb could be detonated in la and we would all be wiped out in a flash without even time to register it.

this fear paralyzed me for some time. the thought that every second could be my last. i usually dont get hung up on these type of things, so im not sure what has changed to make me worry.

matthew emailed me the other day, asking for the new mitshubishi (did i slaughter that?) song. i sent it to him, having had it for several weeks now. i knew he would be impressed, esp at the quick turn-around. he was. i was pleased as well.

ok. enough vapidness. prepare to eat.

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im sitting here at work and my day has gone awry. im riding home with a friend from high school for thanksgiving, but he doesnt want to leave here until 11pm. i have dry-cleaning to pick-up near work at 6pm. everyone left work in a big exodus at 12 noon. but here i am. im still here b/c my car is broken and i cant get my dry-cleaning if i leave work and go home now. plus, even if i wait until 6 to leave, i’ll still have ample time to pack, eat, even nap or read if id like. ABSURD! i want to GO HOME!

ive also been listening to the piano soundtrack all day. it’s a downer. i hate soundtracks but love this one.

additionally, i went down to our caf to grab some lunch, and as im plowing out of the place with this (probably) sort of pained look on my face (im deep in thought about something…sad that im eating at work instead of going home), i see this guy who is a totally hot but way-too-serious ‘filmmaker’ for my company. he and i had a totally random lunch together months ago, and he splits time between dc and australia and recently split with his girl. so anyway, i stare this guy in the face from across the room, except im so caught up in my own thoughts that i cant think to smile quickly enough…before i walk away. so now i look like a total bitch. oops. and, im wondering — if he is still at work now, does he have somewhere to go for thanksgiving since he isnt from dc? im not sure why i feel bad for him (since he’s a completely hot 20/30-something filmmaker with a great accent)… but he was eating by himself and i feel bad not speaking.

and to add to the surreal-ness of my day, have a look at the following links. one would think, from their headlines, that they were from the onion. not so, my friend. just call me a liberal…

Kissinger to Lead 9/11 Inquiry

Agency Proposes Relaxing Rules on Logging in National Forests

Stem Cell Mixing May Form a Human-Mouse Hybrid

Woman to Bear a Clone, a Doctor Says

If TiVo Thinks You Are Gay,
Here’s How to Set It Straight

HE’S GOT A CAPTIVE AUDIENCE

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