A Swift Kick & A Band-Aid

Waiter: I'll Take A Tall Glass of Pink Stuff

I know I should have found my camera by now, and I should be blogging about how fantastic it is to have my own house ... and TO myself (at least for the time being) ... but ...

Life's been busy putting my family in knots again

In the span of four days, what has been settled in Kansas for months has been undone, turned upside down, redone, and left unspun.

The guy that killed my grandmother decided to change his mind - he wanted to plead guilty at the last minute (a week before the trial was set to begin. (Note: he requested this trial date ... far earlier than anyone expected him to).

My family rushed to understand what it meant and everyone changed their travel plans accordingly.

Defense counsel apparently had other things in mind. He called up and argued with the prosecutor over the classification of the crime (which had been settled by a judge previously). When the defense counsel ended up with the answer he didn't want - they took back the plea.

We'll all go back and change our travel plans again and sit on the pins and needles this case is putting us through. We are back to facing a trial ... eventually ... we just don't know when

Tonight, my stomach is killing me.

Here's To The Liars And The Cheaters And The Cold Mistreaters

A lot of people are talking lately about how they feel restricted in their blogging. Tammi's the one that got me thinking tonight, actually. Some people have family, others have friends, but we all have people reading our blogs that we just aren't sure we want inside our heads. I think that is the risk we all take when we decide to blog.

Fuck 'em. All of 'em. These are our blogs.

We put the blog out there to vent, to deal, to be validated. But we aren't always going to be validated. And what we think isn't always going to get a great response. Your mom doesn't want to read that you think her gazpacho sucks after she has been making it all these years ... but maybe she needs to. Maybe your friend needs to hear that you think she's being a giant bitch ... and maybe she needs to realize you're telling her for her own damn good. Maybe we could all use just a little bit more realism in our lives.

Treat people with respect, but fuck what they might think or who they might say something to.

If you don't want to keep reading about my opinions, you're welcome to stop. Don't get me wrong - If I can't say how I feel because of what someone might think, then maybe I need to reevaluate what I think. But if I am as comfortable saying to someone what I feel like blogging, it is fair game for the blog ... whether they like it or not. My only rules are protecting the feelings of those caught in the crossfire and covering my ass when it comes to work. Beyond that, I answer only to myself.

This is the written stream of consciousness from my mind, no one else's.

I used to be afraid to blog because of what someone might think. I wanted to be "in" and I didn't want to jeopardize that. I know that the gossip is going on, that alliances are there, and that your basic meddling is affecting lives all across the 'sphere. It kept me from being honest about what I thought. Of course I want to be liked, just like any other normal, regular person on the planet ... No one wants to be excluded, for any reason ... but, you know what? I'm not going to change who I am in order to be included.

If how I feel or what I think can destroy a "friendship," fuck 'em.

In some cases, that level of authenticity has left me on the outside of the circle. To be honest, it hurts. It hurts because I know I am an authentic, caring, fun individual. It hurts because I was genuine and not accepted. It is raw rejection without a sweet candy coating.

The friends that can survive disagreement and strife are the ones I want by my side, through the good and the bad.

There are people out there that think they are holding all the cards, that they have the world fooled with their innocent act, and that they are mighty enough to "bring people down" or have people ostracised from the group - mostly because they have been able to achieve just that - but no one holds all the cards, all the time.

And I think we've all heard the phrase 'what goes around comes around.'

I Love You, Grammy

Hi Grammy,

You would have been 85 today. I probably would have forgotten to send anything but an e-card this morning. I always say I'm going to do better and remember in time to at least mail a card, but I always forget. Dad would have sent you yellow roses like he does every year and put all our names on the card - he knows those are your favorite.

The trial starts next week. I still have to write my victim impact statement and send it to the prosecutor, but I just don't know how to explain to the world what losing you has felt like.

I wish there was more that I could still say to you and I wish I had said I love you more. I wish that so much had been different.

But I love you, Grammy.

If I Had One Prayer to Pull Out of Thin Air
Evryone, Everywhere, Would Be Happy

The Princess Palace (I thought I'd try it out ... see how the name sits...) finally has cable. It only took about 10 phone calls since Tuesday to my "friend in the digital age" to get it done and they haven't even finished all the installation yet. But, I've got my stories back and Sheila's gone wireless ... well, abandoned the CAT 5 anyway.

I still haven't managed to find the camera yet, but when I do ... I've got the most amazing sight to show you. Walking by last night, just after dark in the brisk fall air, it was emphatically perfect.

All You Hear is Our Song, Like A Siren on The 101

Ok, I can't find where I packed the camera ... so those pictures are going to have to wait a bit. And I can't get internet started until Thursday some time, so blogging will remain light.

I will tell you though, as cluttered, chaotic, and unkept the new place seems in the midst of unpacking ... it is still SOOO nice. I just may have to start calling it The Manor, but I shall open a poll for the official name once I find the camera.

Unfortunately, I have had trouble sleeping the past couple of nights... but, I think that will pass. The overhwelming peacefulness of lying in my own bed, in my own house, listening to the crickets under the moonlight pouring across the ceiling has made me see how much stress I have been carrying over the last two years ... just from the tension of my living arrangements.

The guy I lived with was just the wrong person for me. Without placing too much judgement ... our personalities might as well have been oil and water. What was I thinking living with a Democrat? As awful a roommate as he thought I was, I hope karma sends in my place someone worth complaining about. My landlord was just too much of a slumlord for my taste. I have had better luck with apartment complexes with incompetent management. And the track-star children living upstairs were maddening. Having my car keyed in the parking lot didn't help my comfort level either.

I see frequent and prolonged use of my new soaking tub in the near future.

Suzie Homemaker

It's official... I am a "homeowner"

As of Friday, the settlement paperwork was signed (no thanks to my hangover...)

As of Saturday, I was having chinese take out and sleeping in the new master bedroom

As of Sunday, I have a welcome mat, a flashlight, a fire extinguisher, and hand-me-down furniture

As of Monday, maybe something will be put away ...

I don't have the net set up at the new place yet, but I am still paying rent for the old place so I have net there. Sheila and the beloved desk will migrate over sometime this week.

Coming soon ... PICTURES!!!!

Musings of Art

The house is almost entirely packed now.

I spent yesterday taking pictures off the walls. The corkboard is gone, the magnetic white board is gone too. All my princess items are put away. Even the stuffed animals are off their ledge and in a box.

But somehow five things managed to keep their place on the wall a little bit longer.

1. My cowboy hat
2. B&W view of waves crashing in the moonight
3. My beautifully framed diploma from UCSD
4. The Marine Corps Flag
5. The American Flag

I guess that tells you where my priorities are in life.

What do your walls say about you?

9/11: Honoring 2,996

Philip L. Parker

Philip L. Parker, 53, of Skillman, NJ, Senior Vice President of Aon Corporation, died Sept. 11, 2001, at the World Trade Center site. His office was on the 99th floor of the South Tower.

To so many, this is all they will ever know about Philip L. Parker. It is my job today - not just as a blogger but as a fellow American - to keep that from being commonplace and to honor him and his family with a fitting tribute.

Philip L. Parker emigrated to the United States from Canada in the early 1950s and became a naturalized U.S. citizen while still in high school. He is survived by considerable family both in the United States and Canada.

I never met him, personally, but I did meet him through the wonderful words that his friends, colleagues, former co-workers, and family have said about him since his tragic death. He was clearly a kind-hearted, loving, family man with a temendously generous spirit. He was a vastly passionate man with a love for his family, his green MG convertible, and music.

Portions of the posts on Legacy.com bring home just how lucky the world was to have Philip L. Parker for the time that we did:

"I worked with Phil for 2 years. Within minutes of meeting him, I knew he was a special man. Kindness, compasion and warmth were only a few of his qualities." -- Christina McCoy (Mt. Laurel, NJ )

"He had a wonderful sense of humor, a quick wit and he always made time to say hello and catch up." -- Patricia Barraza (New York, NY )

"He had a charming wit that he easily put to paper and pen. He made coming to work a joy. Heaven has an angel." -- Randi Seeley (Brooklyn, NY )

" Phil was always a joy to work with and compete against; a true gentleman and friend." -- William Hopkins (Annandale, NJ )

"It was a joy and a privilege to know Phil ... I am sure I am not alone in having had encouragement and support from Phil..." -- Fred Shearer (London, England)

"I had the pleasure of working with Phil as his Admin Assistant for six years. Phil was one of the most intelligent, articulate, honorable and generous men I have ever known. He was deeply committed to his family, friends and his work. He revered "quality" and strove to achieve it in all he did." -- Laura Petticrew (Philadelphia, PA )

Donations may be made in honor of Philip L. Parker to the VH1 Save the Music Foundation, Philip Parker Fund, 1515 Broadway NY 10010. The purpose of the foundation is to re-establish music programs in schools that lost funding to do so.

To Joan, his wife, and Stephanie, his daughter:
Thank you so much for sharing with the world a person whom you could have kept to yourself but that created so much joy for others. Thank you for letting us see your love for him and your personal loss so deeply. Please accept my deepest condolences.

We as a society are truly at a loss for having lost such a great man that day. Yet, our society will be forever indebted to him for having left behind such a tremendous legacy and having brought to so many people his gift of love and laughter.

Gone In Great Company

Being at the Freedom Walk was probably the most perfect place for me tonight.

Before I left, I felt good about going. I was enthusiastic about being a pair of feet on the pavement to prove we have not forgotten - that I have not forgotten.

As I left, I felt tired and heavy. I had just learned about another death in the family. He died of cancer ... and I didn't even know he was sick.

Before I walked, I felt blessed. I had friends to keep me smiling and my mind on bigger and happier things. I live in a city where I can show my support in big ways for those I will never meet.

As I walked, I remembered the family and friends that this walk would mean something to. I thought of the people who are gone, that gave us a reason to walk.

Before going home, I sat in the Pentagon parking lot, listening to an operetic rendition of a song about America ... but I honestly cannot tell you which song it was ... and I thought of my now missing uncle.

He didn't die in an attack on America but, when he died, a little bit of real American history died with him. He came from nothing and made something of himself. He lived in a town formerly named for our lineage where he became the largest landowner the town had ever seen. He farmed. He farmed and he farmed and he farmed. He was Old MacDonald if I ever saw him.

He passed his trade along to his son, with whom he shared a name. I only met Junior the one time and his kids a bit younger than me, but he came from good stock and he seemed to carry on the traditions of his pa.

My uncle was good people. But they seem to be going fast.

I have only their essence to think of now ... the lessons they taught to those they knew ... their spirit that lives on through the family ... and the hope that generations will mimic what came before them to continue the America that we all came from.

I Want A Girl With Lips Like Morphine

If I had a girl with lips like morphine, then she could kiss away the pains of packing. I've used muscles I don't think girls are even supposed to have. Guess that goes against my chiropractor's advice not to lift anything over 40 pounds. Tee Hee! But I've been hard at work all week and the house finally feels "put away." It isn't completely done, but huge strides have been made. Three 30-gallon garbage bags worth of strides, in fact. More on this later ... more very exciting news on this later.

I don't anticipate being home much this weekend ... I've already got plans for the next 28 hour or so and I'll be seeing all of you DC residents at the Freedom Walk on Sunday night, right?

You've still got time to sign up to walk, you know ... just go here and then put your feet on the pavement to show you aren't willing to forget. There's no fundraising, just good ol' American togetherness.

Touchdown Turnaround Everything Is Safe And Sound
Everywhere And Everytime I Am Yours And You Are Mine

Lookie what surprise came in the mail today ...

They are flip flops AND they are purple! What more could a girl want?!?

And as if that weren't enough, they are sooo squishy and comfortable!!!

Although, somewhat slippery as I almost busted my ass trying to walk across the hardwood floor in them.

Cuteness takes practice, yo.

Another Day And You've Had Your Fill Of Sinking

My homework for the day was to sit in the car and to try getting used to the mirrors. I almost let the assignment go by ... after all, who was really going to care all that much if I didn't do it ... but I knew that I had to live up to myself, to be truthful with my heart, and to honor the commitment I made.

No more backing out. No more "there's no consequence" excuses.

There are consequences. My sanity for starters.

In any event, I'm not sure if I succeeded more in making the driver's seat feel like a comfortable place or in trying to forget I was in a car.

I managed to actually put the key in the ignition this time. But only to turn on the radio, not the engine. Turning over the engine whilst alone is not something I'm ready for.

I found some cheerful, peppy music and tried to feel comfortable. I listen to music all day at my desk, so my theory was music in the car should make me feel more normal.

Singing definitely helped. It always helps.

My hands didn't feel as scary on the steering wheel as my mind said they would. Although, the proper driving posture still felt silly.

I mostly felt like a child, playing pretend, mimicking mom and dad driving. The other drivers in the parking lot gave me a few looks ... and I was embarassed ...

But I promised myself 20 minutes today, and I did not let my heart down.

Freak On A Leash

I'm not too much of a Hollywood gossip hound but I can't help this weird creepy feeling I get looking at the new pictures of the Cruise-Holmes kid. There is just something ... unnatural looking ... something is not right in this Vanity Fair picture.

Moms, can you put your finger on what it is?

Maybe its just the fact that he's got her in his jacket like a puppy or the fact that she looks sort of like the quizno's baby that "talks" in such freaky ways. I just don't know.

Decide for yourself. The pics are online here.

I think she looks odd.

I Met Up With An Old Gringo, He Showed Me Round And Said to Call Him Joe

At first, I was half in, half out ... with my feet on the ground and my head leaning on the doorpost. It was a start.

Then, one foot after the other, I was inside. My butt felt weird in the seat. My back felt stiff. It was uncomfortable and weird ... like a new pair of shoes that you just aren't sure will ever break in right so maybe you won't buy them.

After about 10 minutes, I finally closed the door. I just sat ... with my hands in my lap ... feeling stupid.

My mind stepped out of my body and I saw myself from my bedroom window. What on earth is this chick doing? She's just sitting there. Haha. Check out the crazy girl going for a pretend drive, without her hands on the wheel even. Dude, I told you this girl is a freak.

I looked into the mirrors and tried to adjust myself to the idea that they are good tools. Reliance, even in the slightest, on anything other than my own direct line of sight made me squeemish. I am scared to trust.

It made my neck hurt. I need to stretch.

I sat in the driver's seat tonight.

D.C. Freedom Walk

Sunday, September 10

Join the D.C. Freedom Walk to remember 9/11

Click Here to Register

Thousands of people will walk from the Washington Monument to the Pentagon crash site in order to honor the victims, the families, and the heros of 9/11.

By participating in a Freedom Walk you will be part of a new national tradition to reflect on the lives lost on September 11, renew our commitment to freedom and the values of our country, and honor our veterans, past and present.

Opportunities to show your support in D.C. through volunteering can be found by clicking here

More details about the D.C. Walk can be found at America Supports You

Locate a Freedom Walk in your community using the ASY Map here

You Know How Hard It Is For Me
To Shake The Disease
That Takes Hold of My Tongue
In Situations Like These

Pack-rat-icism:

1. The condition which allows one to believe the inner voice that says things such as (a) "I totally have a use for this," (b) "I forgot I had this, I should use it," (c) "Oh, I remember when I got this ... it is good to remember with these things"

2. The act of hoarding items that may be of use or memory later in life

Sample Sentence:
I am drowning in stuff due to my terrible packraticism.

So, is there medication for this disease yet? Cuz I could seriously use some right now.

Round Every Bend I Only See Just How Far I Haven't Come

That unconventional interview I had? Worthless...

I checked in yesterday and this morning received the gentle response:

If it is alright with you, I am going to keep your resume in my list for future projects and I shall contact you if we are taking on a project that fits your skill set and experience.

At least I don't have to face the 4 hrs commuting everyday ...

Oh, Here It Goes Again ... I Should Have Known Again

I know I said part of me was relieved yesterday, but I only said part of me. There is another part of me that is wound tighter than lonely Marines headed to the strip club on pay day.

I have had trouble sleeping the past couple of nights, but not for a lack of wear. The emotional drain of being the strong, rational one and watching my mom go through what she would never admit she is feeling is enough to make me want to sleep. On top of that, I have myself another frustrating head cold sucking the life out of me.

I find myself lying in bed just unable to relax. Once I get the body to begin to release a little tension, the mind starts churning. Once the mind calms down, the body aches and stiffness start bothering me again.

I woke up yesterday morning from a fearful dream, running from an unknown person. I was never physically running from anyone in particular but I was living in fear, locking doors, questioning everything ... I knew that someone wanted me dead. I didn't know who it was or who they had put up to doing the deed, but I knew someone definitely wanted me dead. I woke up so afraid that I wasn't even sure I could trust those close to me in real life. I remember saying, "even if you are in on it, you wouldn't tell me..."

I have been watching too much TV

I am on edge about family and death. I am scared of the phone calls I know are coming. My aunt with Parkinsons and Alzheimers is under 100 pounds now. We believe my uncle had a heart attack but went unseen due to caring for his precious wife. He will not last without her. She is his entire world and has been ever since I can remember. He has neglected himself to worry over her.

The curse of threes is threatening to begin its cycle again...