Let's talk of many things, of orange juice and funerals..

Tuesday, Jun. 07, 2005 ~ 9:12 a.m.

Some of you might remember back in March when I thought that a small, staring man in a wheelchair was trying to murder me. Well, he's at it again. Yesterday, I was coming out of the bathroom and was nearly run down by said little man in a wheelchair, who was going EIGHTY down the hallway. And you can't like, jump out of his way or really react at all, because then you would be discriminating.

In other news, the last week or so (since I updated last) has been moderately busy. Not so busy that I am exhausted, but busy enough. It was my last week of having mornings off, so I spent most of them sleeping in and slowly moving huge trunks and desks and tables out of the room that is supposed to be my bedroom but has thus far been occupied by my aunt's wasteland of collectibles and newspaper clippings. This is not right -- to move in, I first have to move the former tenants things out? Anyhow, most mornings I could be found in a tank top and my sheep pyjamas ("Those are pjs, they're ugly underwear!"), pulling 300 lb hope chests and cedar chests down the stairs by myself in the heat, out onto the deck so dad could take the things away when he got home from work that afternoon. Stuff still isn't all moved out. I am still living in the hallway, which is getting more and more cluttered by my things everyday. I really want to get moved into this room by the weekend at least - I think it would be best for both me, and for Toby, who I think misses the safety and security of a room of his own, after being closed up in mine for months at our Priestman street house.

And speaking of Priestman street apartment, I got things more or less squared away there, but still waiting to see if we can get our damage deposit back because the owner of the buildings is still waiting for someone to submit the reciept for the professional carpet cleaning that I helped pay for. I have no idea who's in charge of that, but it's definitely not me. :P

So that's more or less how I spent my week, and then on Saturday, got up early to enjoy my first Saturday off, and Sarah and I took my mom's car and I drove us to the market, with her as my "licensed driver". We really are pigs -- the only reason that we ever go to the market is to eat, and EAT we did. I was full for two days after that. First we went down the wonderous "Boulevard of Delight" and had Chicken Souvlaki, then we went inside and Sarah had a Danish and I had a cream filled soft vanilla bretzel, and then orange juice smoothies and then back out again for Thai food for me and a donair for Sarah. I always spend too much money at the market too - in the end, I spent 70$ (not including money spent on food) on hanging baskets for my parents (2), fiddleheads for my parents (10lbs), bagels for my parents (1 dozen), and a 2L bottle of fresh orange juice (for me, I do say!).

After that, we went to the mall, which wasn't much better. I bought two movies (I always get sucked into the cheap movie bin!); The Princess Bride (just because it's cute and Shay has been after me for ages to buy it for her, and it was only 8.66), and Dances With Wolves because I love Kevin Costner when he was younger, and I practically grew up on that movie (along with Quigley Down Under, but I have yet to find that on DVD, let alone for 8.66 like DWW was..). I also bought kitty litter, and.. well, $50 worth of stuff. Ugh.

After that, we went to see The Sisterhood of The Traveling Pants, the novels of which I originally stumbled across in part thanks to Angel, and also in part thanks to cleaning out the juvy fiction section at the library when I worked there, and finding it. Among other novels, like Angus, Snogging and Thongs, and other assorted things. Sarah and I often found ourselves looking at one another with a slightly panicky expression on our faces, worrying "It's not almost over, is it?" It was such a thoroughly enjoyable movie, and so realistic, and very interesting. After that, we both went and bought one book from the series and then headed home.

I was a little nervous as this was my first time, really, driving downtown without my mom.. or driving any real distance without my mom or my dad. I had a nightmare Friday night that we were in an accident (my fault) in which another car slammed into our passenger side and killed Sarah. I don't think I could go on after that - if Sarah died, I would die too - she's my best friend, no doubt about it. She has shown me the most patience, the most love, the most support of anyone else in my life. She is my constant, when everything else is turned upside down, she is my everlasting. The one true friend I know I can trust to the end of everything, the one I worry most about disappointing above all others. She keeps me sane. She's my angel. I luff her.

Anyways, then Sunday was church and other laziness, and then last night when we got home from work, we had a couple of visitors and somehow the talk of visiting gravesites came up and my mom mentioned that she had never visited her brother's grave. A little known fact about my mother is that when her brother was 21, he commited suicide by driving his little Ford Festiva under a cement truck. He had had an extremely troubled childhood and his girlfriend broke up for him and he could just no longer live. He was my favorite uncle by far, I think - I was only about 5 when he killed himself and I don't even remember recieving the news. It seems that for people from that era of my childhood, I only have one strong and very vivid memory. For Stephen, it was eating coconut in my grandparent's kitchen. I was eating the meat and he tried to get me to drink the milk but I hated it. I remember when I was growing up wondering why he would kill himself if he really loved anyone. Why didn't he love me enough to want to live? I can clearly see, now that I am older, and have put a lot of thought and retrospect into it that he would have had a far more difficult and traumatic life for himself if he had tried to live, but still maintain that suicide is one of the most selfish things that you can do. And I don't say this condescendingly - from the time I was 12, I have been struck with the thought, once or twice a year (at LEAST, less so now, but quite frequently from ages 15-17), that life would be much better if I cut open my wrists and bled my body dry in the middle of our living room, or covered my head with water and never emerged, or taken four or five more painkillers than the typical three that I already take. Of course I come to my senses - there are people who love me so much that they would follow me into the darkness if I were to do that. There are people who would live everyday thinking "What else could I have done for her?" and most of all "Why didn't she love me enough to want to live?" - besides which, I have people who count on me to be there, physically, emotionally and financially - my parents included. That would be the end for them, if they were gone.

It's horribly morbid, but I have been thinking of nothing but death for the last week or so. I am to go and get my license on the fourteenth and I have nearly talked myself out of ever driving anywhere where it's just my sister and I. What would happen if we were in a flaming accident? What would happen if my parents lost both of their children in one go? They would die of sadness - my father would go insane, my mother would never get out of bed - they would die prematurely from broken hearts. I could never do that to them. I could never imagine looking down from heaven, or up from hell, wherever it is that you go, or watching over them in such serious pain and grief. I could never let that happen.

I'm only glad that since I have grown up, my horribly morbid thoughts of death have turned from predetermined and deliberate death to accidental death, which I can, nine times out of ten, write off as just being me being the chronic worrier that I am. And now I've opened up a slice of my life to you. Who would have thought that my talk of orange juice would turn to talk of funerals and accidents? Argh. I frustrate myself sometimes.

Shout out to Lyssette (link on the side) who broke me wide open yesterday while I was sitting here at work, and made me bawl like a baby for the first time in months.