More loose thoughts...
That had nowhere to go in the last postings...
Disclaimer: it may seem like I have nothing better to do than to write incessantly, which is in fact a falacy. I have way too much to do, but writing seems to sooth the nerves and this was something that needed to be said.
Walter Monkey you are a funny man. (if I knew how to link to your LJ, I would, but I don't:( ) And I am not even mad that you didn't call me back today. I had forgotten how much fun we used to have, and the time I shaved your head in the basement, (un-Tarantinoing you) while surrounded by the smell of cat pee. Ah, the memories... or the time Alison and I visited you in your dorm... or the time that we went bowling at 4 in the am and I ripped the borrowed pants from Slavitza (sp?), back when you wouldn't even have a drink... I will always think of you when I use the word genuflect, and how angrily sitting on the edge of my bed you insisted that I genuflect to your ego. Which, of course I refused. You had me laughing to the point of tears.
In tragedy, there is nothing like the antidote of a good laugh. So thank you for inadvertantly lifting my mood.
Kirsten, darling, you know that I love you sooooooooooo much. Anytime you want to make sure I am alive and kicking, you just visit me here... still fantasizing about you moving down here and all the adventures we'll have! (hopefully proposing in the indicative, so as to shift your mind in my favor, cleverly, without you knowing;) Can't wait to get my arms around you in a big old bear hug! And I have already begun the research on culinary schools...
Yay... my life is not over yet! Not yet... not yet... and I have friends, including Carey, who called back after a month! I knew if I held out she would call. Too bad Noah wasn't around to talk with Isabella. Things are going well, at least in the world of ESL - inter-personal relationships, well nothing new if they don't work the way they are supposed to.
Don't be fooled, the real me is still hiding, but I thought I might try on a few different cosmo-visions for good measure, to see which one fits best.
Alas, it is the fatalist that always wins! - which reminds me of a line from Sarah Harmer, Isabella's favorite song of the album
"maybe I'm a fatalist, to let it all go at this, like some balloon I'll probably miss, lost in a tree-top. But there's a coffee stain around your eyes, and lines that I don't recognize. Everything changed from being ok, the night that you came home so late. I could tell by the time on the stove, that you were no longer mine alone, I guess we're all just out on our own, and everybody is only their own... Oh I loved you, and I guess I still do, everything was going so good I thought something bad might happen... And then it did, if you know the difference between bad and good, thought that I'd know, but I cross my toes, and that's how it goes...."
Hmmm. Something smells good! cries Isabella bee as she comes down the stairs. Her dinner was macaroni and a nutella sandwhich. But I just finished making a pot of chicken soup. She tells me that the movie she just watched was sad, because Pancho Villa died and there was blood coming from everywhere, but the actors are just putting paint on him... it is not real, it is a pretend story... She races back up the stairs to snuggle more, being ever more forgiving than I. What is my four year old doing up and chattering past midnight? Don't ask, I am still the irreverently irresponsible (too immature to do a good job) mother.
And so, I am mentally prepared, once more for what lies ahead. Now, if only I can actually believe it when I say it!
Disclaimer: it may seem like I have nothing better to do than to write incessantly, which is in fact a falacy. I have way too much to do, but writing seems to sooth the nerves and this was something that needed to be said.
Walter Monkey you are a funny man. (if I knew how to link to your LJ, I would, but I don't:( ) And I am not even mad that you didn't call me back today. I had forgotten how much fun we used to have, and the time I shaved your head in the basement, (un-Tarantinoing you) while surrounded by the smell of cat pee. Ah, the memories... or the time Alison and I visited you in your dorm... or the time that we went bowling at 4 in the am and I ripped the borrowed pants from Slavitza (sp?), back when you wouldn't even have a drink... I will always think of you when I use the word genuflect, and how angrily sitting on the edge of my bed you insisted that I genuflect to your ego. Which, of course I refused. You had me laughing to the point of tears.
In tragedy, there is nothing like the antidote of a good laugh. So thank you for inadvertantly lifting my mood.
Kirsten, darling, you know that I love you sooooooooooo much. Anytime you want to make sure I am alive and kicking, you just visit me here... still fantasizing about you moving down here and all the adventures we'll have! (hopefully proposing in the indicative, so as to shift your mind in my favor, cleverly, without you knowing;) Can't wait to get my arms around you in a big old bear hug! And I have already begun the research on culinary schools...
Yay... my life is not over yet! Not yet... not yet... and I have friends, including Carey, who called back after a month! I knew if I held out she would call. Too bad Noah wasn't around to talk with Isabella. Things are going well, at least in the world of ESL - inter-personal relationships, well nothing new if they don't work the way they are supposed to.
Don't be fooled, the real me is still hiding, but I thought I might try on a few different cosmo-visions for good measure, to see which one fits best.
Alas, it is the fatalist that always wins! - which reminds me of a line from Sarah Harmer, Isabella's favorite song of the album
"maybe I'm a fatalist, to let it all go at this, like some balloon I'll probably miss, lost in a tree-top. But there's a coffee stain around your eyes, and lines that I don't recognize. Everything changed from being ok, the night that you came home so late. I could tell by the time on the stove, that you were no longer mine alone, I guess we're all just out on our own, and everybody is only their own... Oh I loved you, and I guess I still do, everything was going so good I thought something bad might happen... And then it did, if you know the difference between bad and good, thought that I'd know, but I cross my toes, and that's how it goes...."
Hmmm. Something smells good! cries Isabella bee as she comes down the stairs. Her dinner was macaroni and a nutella sandwhich. But I just finished making a pot of chicken soup. She tells me that the movie she just watched was sad, because Pancho Villa died and there was blood coming from everywhere, but the actors are just putting paint on him... it is not real, it is a pretend story... She races back up the stairs to snuggle more, being ever more forgiving than I. What is my four year old doing up and chattering past midnight? Don't ask, I am still the irreverently irresponsible (too immature to do a good job) mother.
And so, I am mentally prepared, once more for what lies ahead. Now, if only I can actually believe it when I say it!
posted by ilana at 1:09 a.m.
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