blank stare

i'm in class. with a blank stare. i usually love this class (neuropsych). i have nothing to say, no questions to ask. I DON'T CARE.

i don't care about any of this right now. why do we care about things? why does life seem so, well, o.k. most of the time? why?... when so many people die and leave their loved ones to grieve? why?... when so many people have incomprehensible experiences?

he's talking about the activity of serotonergic neurons in the raphe nucleus and effects on behavior. I SHOULD CARE.

my good friend's mom died this morning after struggling for the past 4-or so months with her 5th reemergence of breast cancer. i want to do something to help. i want to drive down to miami and hug her and tell her that it's o.k. to fall apart. that no one expects her to pick herself up right away. i want to make sure she knows that we are here for her. but is that selfish? she's in miami with her family. with her life long friends. grieving. mourning. we're just her graduate school friends. we've known her for 7 1/2 mo. we would be an intrusion. or would we? would it add comfort or would she feel put out?

i was angry when people who didn't know my sister wanted to try to comfort me. i was not comforted. i did not want flowers. i wanted to dig a hole and stay there for a while. which i sort of did. i wore her jogging pants and stayed in my house for about 3 weeks. i shut myself off. and i believe i was better off for that. i contacted people when i was ready to do so. i was touched by everyone who cared. i felt blessed that so many people came to her services and showed their support, but i did not want my day-to-day friends who didn't know me in the context of my family. i wanted my family. i wanted my husband. I WANTED MY SISTER.

i'm thinking a card and a small donation to a breast cancer society will suffice. i want so badly to take this pain and sense of loss awy from her. but i can't. no one can.

i simply can't wait!

sista or sister?

By sista, I mean my actual sister. My older sister, Kelli made my day today. I tried to log onto Facebook from my phone while I was in line at the post office, just to change my status to [Michelle: my sister just made me feel like a superhero]. No kidding, except as it told me I had entered my user ID incorrectly, I was at the head of the line.

I was having such an overwhelming day. I called Kelli on the way to the bank and post office and dry cleaners and other errands, rushing to make it to all of them before they closed. It was already 4:30. I made it to the bank. As I was waiting in the drive-up line I was venting to her about my headache from my client, about not having time to study, about aaarrrrrgh! She told me if I needed some perspective that perhaps Mathew's (my almost 2 yr old nephew) recent conundrums would be of some help: Mathew loves to wear pajamas with footies. Don't we all. I wish I still could, but have a feeling Joe would object. Probably not too sexy. Back to the story- Mathew loves to wear pajamas with footies. This presents a very grave problem as he also loves to wear shoes at all times. Feet inside of footies do not fit inside of shoes. Alas, this is not all. Not only does he want to wear shoes at all times, even when he has footies over his feet, he wants to wear 3 shoes. THREE SHOES. Now, if you do not know my nephew, you may want to kjnow that he does not have 3 feet. My family may be strange, but not that strange. We are not mutants (apology for any one who may have 3 feet). My problems are not that big. They just aren't. My stresses are due to problems that have solutions. They may be solutions I procrastinate, thereby prolonging my stress, but remedies nonetheless. Thank God I do not have to try to grow a third foot or fit footie covered feet into my shoes.


Then, I made it to the post office just in time- so close to them closing that they probably considered running up to the doors and locking them as I approached. Kelli told me I'm practically a superhero. I paused at this silly phrase and thought, "Yeah, I did accomplish something." Which, is nothing like being a superhero, but I thought that maybe I am sort of great. I may not have even started any of my readings, worked on my thesis, worked on my graduate scholar tasks, or even talked to Eliza or Joe... BUT- I made it through an overwhelming day with my client, through a boring class lecture, and made it to the post office just barely in the nick of time. Pretty damn close to super hero. Now I just need a name. Any ideas? I was thinking the Barely Achieving Achiever. No that is totally LAME.

"many happy returns of the day,"

said Pooh to Eeyore and Eeyore to Pooh.

Eliza and I are reading Winnie the Pooh, which my mom also read to me when I was a little girl.

do da do, do da do, do da do (picture Wayne's World) ... begin flashback:
Kristen and I are in our beds, in our room. Kelli is in her bed, in the room next to ours. Jake, who is always the lucky one, because he's older and because his room is in the loft, is sitting in the hallway with a pillow and blanket by Mom. Her voice carries as if by some sort of magic to all of us while our eyelids become heavy and our breaths more steady. As she reads each word takes me to another place. I fight to stay awake so that I don't miss any of the story. My eyes won't stay open anymore. Pooh is stuck in the tree. With the bees. Christopher Robin says lovingly, "Silly Ol' Bear" and I can see him shake his head. I'm asleep, dreaming of fields of carrots and honey pots and lost Eeyore tails. My mom read many books to us this way. Her voice bringing us stories like the Mouse and the Motorcycle, poems from Shel Silverstein, and more. Each night her voice would actually become other voices. Eeyore's gloomy yet calming voice would lull us to sleep. Ralph was in my room, asking me to let him ride my toy motorcycle. I will never forget how she imitated Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore, Kanga, Roo, Rabbit, and Christopher Robbins' voices. As I read it to Eliza I try to do the same for her. Paint watercolor scenes in her mind for each story. I try to make their voices distinct, unique, and am disappointed when they do not sound like my mom's did. I hope my young age is what made these words read by my mom so magical and that Eliza feels the magic of words at bedtime.

it's 75 out and she's wearing a jacket

Eliza and I went to the pool today and I am such a whiner. It was absolutely freeezing. When we decided to go to the pool it was, of course, sunny and hot. Hot enough that we said out loud "It's hot. Let's go to the pool." We laid out for a few minutes, to Eliza's dismay, but my legs need some color so that people don't think I am the undead walking around when I wear skirts and such. After 10 min of that the sun decided to hide from us and the wind began to turn the pages of the book I was reading. I was reading and would appreciate it if this force would refrain from blowing until I was finished with a page. We waited for the sun before getting in, which was a dumb idea because when it did come back out it lasted for maybe 2 min. So, we got in anyway. We usually hold hands and jump in on the count of 3. We were standing on the ledge with our feet in that little bit of water- I jumped right back out and said in a very whiny voice "it's SOOOO cooold!!!" To which Eliza rolled her eyes and said to placate me "I'll count to 3 the way you liiiyke." I laughed so hard at that- we jumped in and played puppies, because that's what Eliza likes to do... and I pretended to give her treats for doing puppy tricks, which she does very well for a little girl pretending to be a puppy. I named her Olive and she was a mut. She wasn't happy that I told her she was a mut until I explained that muts are cute and that she is a mix between a poodle, a pug, a labrodore, and beagle (a puggle labeagle). Then we went home. I would say that we were at the pool for no longer than 30 min. Wimps. It's 75 degrees out and we had to make hot cooca and Eliza is now wearing a jacket.

awol

I just devoured a KitKat.
I have an exam tomorrow. I am not prepared.
I haven't posted for some time and here is my excuse:
-- Eliza's mom was in town.
Not much of an excuse, I could have still posted.
Here's really why I haven't posted:
-- My life has been boring.

Here's the scoop, the dish, the update:
--Eliza's mom visited over her Spring Break. Eliza was happy as a clam (I do not know why we assume they are happy, but she was happy nonetheless). In fact she was elated. She was floating on clouds. I like her mom. She's beautiful (even with her hair totally gone), she's a great mom, and she's Eliza's hero (tied with her Dad). I did my part by trying to stay out of the house so that they could have alone mommy-daughter bonding times. I hope it helped. It always makes me horribly sad to see them say goodbye- to watch the closeness between them and then watch her leave, knowing that it's MY FAULT it's like this. Brigitta may read this and think "you're sad?! Don't tell me about sad. She is MY DAUGHTER." And I will think back "I'm sorry."

--I tried to spend time with Eliza on Saturday, the day her mom left, but I had to take a difficult physiological psychology exam that evening online. It was awful, by the way. Mostly I studied that day and told her that Sunday we would just do awesome things together ALL DAY. Me and her and her dad. Enjoying each other and the beautiful weather we've been having.

--Sunday: UTI. Urinary Tract Infection. GROSS. PAINFUL. UNCOMFORTABLE. I stayed in my pajamas all day. What a baby. Did nothing with Eliza. or Joe.

--Monday / today: Another horrible exam tomorrow (and Thursday). I have, of course, procrastinated. Took data for a project. Worked with my adorable client. No time with Eliza. or Joe. But, I did accomplish getting my antibiotic. Explained to Eliza that I am not necessarily a horrible step-mom, but just having a week with loads of tests and headaches and shoulder aches and tummy aches and urinary tract aches. I am not always sick. I just have too much stress. Joe thinks something is wrong that I am not healthy. I do not know a healthy graduate student. So, my dear Eliza, we will play on Friday and Saturday and Sunday. I SWEAR. I PINKY PROMISE WITH A KISS ON TOP.

dinner reservations

i should have married my dad. he's the perfect man. wait- that does not sound right. my dad is pretty near perfect. but i guess i wouldn't actually want to marry him. that's creepy. i would like to go back home sometimes and never leave again- or grow up. just be around my nearly perfect mom and dad forever.

on second thought. scratch that. i would go crazy. and i would have to go back to church.

but that feeling still creeps up now and again. more often lately than usual. they are so blasted sweet and smart and wonderful. i love talking to them on the phone. i love visiting them at the condo. i cannot wait to visit them in Seattle. i hope they visit me here.

i am almost 28 (gasp). i have been away from home for 9 years. it's not quite homesickness. but whatever it is, it is not cured by shephard's pie (although it does make the tummy warm and full and the bed extra comfy).

my parents are still married and are as cute as ever. or maybe even cuter than ever. as they grow older (they are actually no older than the day i left home), they seem to grow together. like two trees whose roots become more and more intertwined beneath and above the soil- so that passersby can catch glimpses of their interdependence through the sweet, but sometimes aggravated, glances and smirks and light touches they give each other.

yesterday, my dad called my mom from work. my mom said he calls once in a awhile from work and that it's cute-

-whatcha doin' girl?
-(here my mom said she tried to come up with something clever-- like 'just went on a bike ride,' but since she had ankle surgery and she hates bike riding it has been more like 'sitting on my butt.')
-we have dinner reservations at 6.
-that's weird... why? who are we taking to dinner?
-that's not very nice.
-oh yeah, let me start over: that's really thoughtful honey.
-i just wanted to take you to watch the sunset.

my mom was a little concerned about getting dressed up with her gigantic ankle brace, but managed and reported to me that she looked so cute

-i forgot i could look SO good!

not sure what the point of this story is really. except that they are adorable, sorry dad, adorable. mom getting dressed up for dad. dad rushing home to take her out for their dinner reservations. they missed the sunset, dad apologized through the entire dinner. mom talks nonstop and is sure that he is having to put forth effort to enjoy her. but he does enjoy her. he doesn't just tolerate your thoughts that seem to have no point. he wouldn't know what to do without them. beneath that look of annoyance of his is a smirk that translates to -- i love you.

isn't it reassuring how two people can make it through all of their struggles and make it this far and still be cute and happy and comical. they seriously are their own seinfeld-ish series.

sick of it

messy rooms.
my own impatience.
whining.
crying.
procrastination...

messes.
laziness.
myself.
others.
everyone...

togetherness.
aloneness.
competitiveness.
social isolation...

painting
my face.
not painting
pictures.
writing
notes.
not writing
creatively...

f. that's all.

girls gone wild

It's my spring break. I should be doing crazy things- like jumping from helicopters, visiting Rome, taking surfing lessons, and other cool stuff. But, I'm not.

I was supposed to be working all week, but my little client is sick. Double ear infections. Seriously. She started to get better and the mom is sick! Now, I feel like I am getting sick. Eliza is getting sick. The kids at her school are sick. Come on.

So- My spring break has included sleeping in. Until 12:00 pm. Each day. That's not right. But it feels so good. I love my pillow. I love having the comforters wrapped up around my chin. I love being half awake, realizing I have nowhere I have to be-- no meetings, classes, appointments-- and snuggling back up with my face in the pillow so it feels dark again. Then, around noon, I wake up and eat something for breakfast. I lounge around for a couple of hours so that the food has made its way from the stomach to the small intestines, then go running around the little tiny man-made lake that's just outside my patio door. I run around it 9 times, that's 3 miles, and look at the little cranes and turtles sunning on the bank, and momma duck with babies. Then, Eliza comes home- we go on errands. I take a nap. Check her homework. Feed her dinner. Attempt to attend to my textbooks. Drink a little while doing so. Have many snacks. Watch T.V. Go to bed.

Not quite the fascinating break that many look forward to. One day, I will have the money to jump out of helicopters, fly to Rome or Greece or Paris, and take surfing lessons. For now, this has been quite relaxing and pleasurable.