Late night rambles posted from bed
Oct. 21st, 2005 02:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kjpepperThere is something so very decadently lazy about lying in bed under blankets, pillows stuffed under your neck and shoulders, one knee arched... and balancing a laptop on said knee, listening to the whispers from cyberspace well into the night, the only light coming in from the streetlamps outside, the moon above and a bright cheery LCD.
It's beyond good to have working wireless again.
elsewise, I donno... I was considering going down to the big bad city this weekend, seeing as this weekend marks the one year anniversary of Mom's death and I'm sure the family's getting together cause we're a morbid bunch o blackfolk, but the very thought has my sanity and my bank accounts screaming. I might still go, but... gaaah. I'll say this though - if I do end up going and someone even hints that I'm going to spend any portion of Sunday at Anucha's church I'll be out of there faster than you can say "I'm the Pagan Rick James, bitch!" The three hour service I sat through last time I went home was enough reason to find an excuse to return to MA late Saturday night this time if necessary. Gospel and catching the spirit are all well and good, but it's a rather uncomfortable experience if your belief in Jesus only goes as far as "he was cool, pity about that capital punishment fetish the romans had at the time. Yeesh" and not far enough to march on up into a pointy building in a hat big enough to cover several counties only to fall into an aisle foaming at the mouth and yelling "Praise Him!!" every six seconds no matter what the minister was talking about at the time.
All making fun of blackfolk in church aside (and you know I'd look good in one of them hats, mmhmm), it really will have been a year come Monday. I don't really know how to feel about that. It didn't take me very long to accept that she was gone, and I still kinda feel guilty at times for not really missing her all that much. And it's not really so much that she's in a better place, out of pain, what have you, 'cause when it comes down to it, you really have no way of knowing that for sure. No, it's mostly... well, this is ungracious as fuck, but it's the fact that she's out of my hair, not around to tell me how I should think about myself instead of living and breathing![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sundart (yes, she said that to me once), how she'd guilt trip me into all sorts of scheisse, and continually treat me as if I was utterly incapable of doing anything for and by myself. I mean, really, nothing makes you feel more like an infant than having your sister tell you and an entire congregation of people that have trouble with the concept that you have indeed been alive for over a quarter of a century to begin with that she and the rest of the sibs promised your dying mother that they'd take care of you.
Yeah. There are a lot of reasons why I don't miss her.
And of course there are a lot of reasons why I do. I mean, the flip side of having someone constantly worrying after you is that you have someone constantly worrying after you - and you do come to depend on that, no matter how detrimental to your general well being it is. But even that aside, I miss the bits that made her into a person rather than my mother. I miss hearing her play piano from 1 in the afternoon until 11 at night for the sheer joy it gave her. I miss the fact that she would take away my Game Boy in the evenings ostensibly so I'd do my homework, but really so she could play Tetris. I miss staying up until the wee hours watching the news and the bad movies and reruns of ER that would come on after midnight and begging Dad to go down to the corner bodega and bring us back Breyer's vanilla. I miss how she would bait Dad over dinner about whatever political issue was forerunning at the time (and she had an ability to argue any point of an issue that put evenmorlock's aptitude for playing devil's advocate to shame). I miss how even though they would fight like all hell, she could make Dad collapse with laughter some days. *sigh* He hasn't laughed the same since she passed, it's sad - and, stuffy as he is, Dad does enjoy himself a good laugh. They just haven't been quite as good in the past year. Actually, she could do that to just about anyone... she had a thing for occasionally utterly wrong humor and practical jokes.
Most of all I miss her stories. That woman could spin yarns a mile long about events in her past, or even make what silly thing Dad said that morning uproariously entertaining. She was so good at it that I knew some of her stories by heart by the time I was grown, especially the ones where she would torment her boy cousins growing up, but I still enjoyed hearing her tell them over and over. I dream her telling them sometimes.
So yeah, I've been weird and conflicted about how I feel about it, when I haven't stuffed it under something in my head and I let myself deal with it... there are whole other issues with me being all pissed at her for making her grand exit in quite the manner she did, but at the same time, I can't blame her for it either. Cancer's a ruddy bitch, and I'd get sick of the endless rounds oftoxochemotherapy after a while too, especially if it left me in a state where I couldn't get out of bed or do much of anything by myself anymore. Then there's the bit where I haven't really talked to anyone in the fam for months... for no real reason really, unless it's just doing my bit to thwart that ignominious offhand comment at the funeral. Still... there's still a very young part of me sitting on the bench in UNIS's lobby, face pressed up to the windows, waiting and watching for Mom's big ass boat of a car coming around the drive to pick me up and take me home... and another part that knows she ain't coming anymore.
It's beyond good to have working wireless again.
elsewise, I donno... I was considering going down to the big bad city this weekend, seeing as this weekend marks the one year anniversary of Mom's death and I'm sure the family's getting together cause we're a morbid bunch o blackfolk, but the very thought has my sanity and my bank accounts screaming. I might still go, but... gaaah. I'll say this though - if I do end up going and someone even hints that I'm going to spend any portion of Sunday at Anucha's church I'll be out of there faster than you can say "I'm the Pagan Rick James, bitch!" The three hour service I sat through last time I went home was enough reason to find an excuse to return to MA late Saturday night this time if necessary. Gospel and catching the spirit are all well and good, but it's a rather uncomfortable experience if your belief in Jesus only goes as far as "he was cool, pity about that capital punishment fetish the romans had at the time. Yeesh" and not far enough to march on up into a pointy building in a hat big enough to cover several counties only to fall into an aisle foaming at the mouth and yelling "Praise Him!!" every six seconds no matter what the minister was talking about at the time.
All making fun of blackfolk in church aside (and you know I'd look good in one of them hats, mmhmm), it really will have been a year come Monday. I don't really know how to feel about that. It didn't take me very long to accept that she was gone, and I still kinda feel guilty at times for not really missing her all that much. And it's not really so much that she's in a better place, out of pain, what have you, 'cause when it comes down to it, you really have no way of knowing that for sure. No, it's mostly... well, this is ungracious as fuck, but it's the fact that she's out of my hair, not around to tell me how I should think about myself instead of living and breathing
sundart (yes, she said that to me once), how she'd guilt trip me into all sorts of scheisse, and continually treat me as if I was utterly incapable of doing anything for and by myself. I mean, really, nothing makes you feel more like an infant than having your sister tell you and an entire congregation of people that have trouble with the concept that you have indeed been alive for over a quarter of a century to begin with that she and the rest of the sibs promised your dying mother that they'd take care of you.Yeah. There are a lot of reasons why I don't miss her.
And of course there are a lot of reasons why I do. I mean, the flip side of having someone constantly worrying after you is that you have someone constantly worrying after you - and you do come to depend on that, no matter how detrimental to your general well being it is. But even that aside, I miss the bits that made her into a person rather than my mother. I miss hearing her play piano from 1 in the afternoon until 11 at night for the sheer joy it gave her. I miss the fact that she would take away my Game Boy in the evenings ostensibly so I'd do my homework, but really so she could play Tetris. I miss staying up until the wee hours watching the news and the bad movies and reruns of ER that would come on after midnight and begging Dad to go down to the corner bodega and bring us back Breyer's vanilla. I miss how she would bait Dad over dinner about whatever political issue was forerunning at the time (and she had an ability to argue any point of an issue that put even
morlock's aptitude for playing devil's advocate to shame). I miss how even though they would fight like all hell, she could make Dad collapse with laughter some days. *sigh* He hasn't laughed the same since she passed, it's sad - and, stuffy as he is, Dad does enjoy himself a good laugh. They just haven't been quite as good in the past year. Actually, she could do that to just about anyone... she had a thing for occasionally utterly wrong humor and practical jokes.Most of all I miss her stories. That woman could spin yarns a mile long about events in her past, or even make what silly thing Dad said that morning uproariously entertaining. She was so good at it that I knew some of her stories by heart by the time I was grown, especially the ones where she would torment her boy cousins growing up, but I still enjoyed hearing her tell them over and over. I dream her telling them sometimes.
So yeah, I've been weird and conflicted about how I feel about it, when I haven't stuffed it under something in my head and I let myself deal with it... there are whole other issues with me being all pissed at her for making her grand exit in quite the manner she did, but at the same time, I can't blame her for it either. Cancer's a ruddy bitch, and I'd get sick of the endless rounds of
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no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 04:44 pm (UTC)Coincidentally, if you believe in such things, I was thinking about my dad last night, too. He died a few months before your mom, and about as quickly. Sigh.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 04:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-22 01:42 am (UTC)