Stuck in the Mud

I have been following the same pattern for years. I have always worked at Za's. I have always lived in Das Krankenhaus with my friends. I have spent every week of my life waiting for Alex, every Friday with him, and every Saturday saying goodbye to him. I have always gone crazy on Thursday evenings. I have a vague distant memory of my time in college, but nothing before that exists. I have never lived at home with my family, though I have dreams of what it would have been like.

NOW, THE TRUTH:

I have worked at Za's for two months. I have lived in Das Krankenhaus for one month. I have spent two Fridays with Alex this summer, and therefore two Saturdays saying goodbye. I went crazy last Thursday.

I have been in college for two years and lived with my family for almost eighteen years. HOW CAN I FORGET SO EASILY?????

This Is The Problem

“O lovers! Be careful in those dangerous first days! Once you’ve brought breakfast in bed you’ll have to bring it forever, unless you want to be accused of lovelessness and betrayal.” -Milan Kundera

Therefore, I have never brought anyone breakfast in bed. I have, however, corrected essays and been overall a crazy nut during the first days.

Oh how I regret being a crazy nut.

Late at night I write

Sometimes a night is just a night. This will change your life. Everything changes your life, silly. Every night we move. Even standing still our hearts beat, the world rotates, we move. Every night.

When he wrapped me in his warm sweatshirt and his warm body and calmed my shaking body, I felt loved. I told him, months later, that I knew everything that night--that something remarkable had happened to me. He said, “Sometimes a night is just a night.” I could feel my cheeks flush. I walked out of my dorm, down through the diag, read a banner for a sorority, “This will change your life!” I wanted to scream. Oh, but that sorority can change your life. I see how it is.

I don’t want to scream now, a year later. All I know is that nights flow into a life, and our lives move. A night is just a night. This will change your life.

A little incoherent much?!

I just want y'all to know one fact about me.

I've grooved so much something something is gone.

And Clinker1 is so crazy David our neighbor.

Ok!

No one wins!

But anyway, the intense sport of Army Baseball is played when the pitcher throws the little green army guys to the batter who, using a small baseball bat, hits the soldiers across the room and yells, "Throw more!!!"

....contest....

Any guesses as to how Army baseball is played? Winner gets a remnant.

Relief

It is quite a relief to be out of the Krankenhaus and into the fine world of Grosse Pointe once again. Yes, yes, I love my roommates, but uhh THE INTERNET CONNECTION! THE INTERNET CONNECTION!

Yes, we are still poor and lazy and continue to steal internet from 1) linksys and 2 NETGEAR. Now our airports pick up many other internets as well, but alas! Clinker1 and jodi and blahblahblahty all are password protected. What confuses me is that we can pick up that they have internet but can not figure out how to tiptoe onto them. And I desperately want to. Linksys bah! How boring! Doesn't the internet sound much better as clinker1? Or Jodi? I bet Jodi would absolutely adore my itunes. But no, she is too stingy.

Anyway, the real problem is that it is much harder for me to read the news without this internet. Ha! Who am I kidding?! What I really want is to stalk unsuspecting strangers and find some baby flesh through corbis. ***

Mmmmm mmmm. That's more like it.

*** That is the first image when you search "baby flesh" on corbis. Don't believe me? Try it yourself. I'm not lying.

Mother's Day

I have to be quick and not very eloquent because stolen internet is not easy to keep.

I've been thinking about babies and children and motherhood a lot recently. I'm not pregnant, of course, but the spell of yearning was cast on me early in life and recently it has become much greater. At times, my arms tremble for a newborn, and I look at photos of my past and of babies that could be mine and I want to cry in anticipation.

My mom felt this same way. For years, throughout her twenties, she could not have a baby. She bought a doll, and secretly pretended that she had a child. When the stiff, fake doll would not cut it, she babysat for others so she could hold soft baby flesh against her skin. She smelled the sweet smell of a newborn, and I know if I were her, at that moment, I would have cried.

Eventually, I was born. I do not know precisely how she felt at that moment, after struggling through the painful hours of childbirth, through the months of anticipation of a first pregnancy, and through the long years of limp, childless arms, but I can almost taste that joy. There I was. Her baby. Her own flesh and blood, her own creation, her own responsibility, within her arms, on her chest, small head against breast. I want to cry. That joy seems intoxicating, calming, overwhelming.

This joy did not fade, she had a large family, just as she wanted, but she had to struggle through many trials. She had to live through an alcoholic and abusive husband, a man that has very little paternal instincts. She had to leave him, face the headfirst plummet into raising five kids on her own, after being a stay-at-home mom for twelve years. Life gets better, of course. But now my mom still has other trials to face--as Rickie, my youngest brother has just recently been diagnosed with cystic fibrosis.

Being a mother is not easy. And yet, this is what my mom is--first and foremost. This is what she has always wanted; this is what she had been waiting for for years upon years. I am not sure how a single day could ever recognize the complexity and emotion of motherhood.

I love you, Mommy. Happy Mother's Day!



P.S. I know you wanted something humorous, but I write what comes out of my fingers, nothing more, nothing less.

Uninteresting

My mother (the very one who views blogs as a STAGE in her life and is over there on my blogroll) is very much part of this blog train and has TAGGED ME.

Six uninteresting facts about myself:

1. I chose meatballs without their delicious Swedish sauce over salmon for dinner today, simply because meatballs are a much cheaper alternative.

2. I am using stolen internet at the moment. Much cheaper.

3. I do not generally care for my finger or toenails. I just pick them off. It's much cheaper.

4. When I was a little girl I thought, "When I grow up, I'm going to spend my $$ on important things like food, not on clothes or toys." It just seemed like the reasonable, adult, cheaper way to go.

5. I regularly steal candy from the bins at Meijer. And from the cheezit boxes. Well, actually, those are cheezits I'm stealing from the cheezit boxes. But regardless, it's much cheaper than actually buying the junk.

6. I once spent $70 on my mother's birthday present, but this mother's day?

Well, let's just say I'm much cheaper now.

A Thought

I just thought,

Hmmm....I ought to check my blog to see if I updated.


Maybe I'll write more when we at the Krankenhaus get legit internet!