�more of the same� -Nemo
2001-12-16 - 3:32 p.m.
I must have been thinking a lot on Friday when I took the bus into Maine, but it all went off to oblivion became it rubbed off...the eyeball I drew is starting to look like a cross-section of the gastrointestinal tract. Something about Schizotypical boxes and how it would be interesting if mental illness was not caused by childhood trauma, but my being cooped up in a small place for too long. What would we do, if the sexual abuse in the quadruplet�s case wasn�t the cause of their schizophrenia, but rather a normal behavior in many American households? Something about the rarity of seeing a jaywalker jaywalk in the same place (and direction) twice. Like lightning. This may have something to do with the incident rate among the jaywalkers during rush hour and on highways. Like Frogger (TM). And something about not wanting to be God, because you�d have to hold the world in your hands all day, shouting at one person or another to put their little circular hat back on because you are offended by their bald spot. The Eiffel tower would keep jamming into your thumb, and what with the nuclear testing these days...But that�s about all I could gather from my list of bus-station idears.
Tip#13: Pick up a kitchen pastime...I prefer throwing pepperonis at vegetarians (Sister).
I hadn�t been home for five hours before accidentally killing Father�s computer. Thought that I had killed the motherboard for a whole day, and felt really guilty about it but didn�t want to tell him because his computer is such a big thing...I�m glad I still have my head connected to my shoulders. Was awake late into Sunday morning trying to fix it, wearing a loose cotton/wool shirt and trying to keep Smeagol (pureblood half Siamese, half cooncat) and Tragedy (little black kitty) from rubbing up against my legs...it was about as ghetto as a technichian could nightmareize. About the time I got it working, Step-sister�s computer caught a himem.sys bug, but this was also fixed before bedtime at breakfastime.
Smile. They says it�ll help us win the war.
To hell with tradition, eh? We got a tree at a quick-stop place on the highway for twenty bucks. I kept making �do you want fries with that?� jokes, but it�s really a serious matter when your family no longer considers it �worthwhile� to trudge through the frosty fields of Maine to pick out that perfect tree. When we got home, I took the tree off the car and set it in the living room by myself, because no one else felt like getting sap on themselves. We were scheduled to decorate the tree at 3pm, but it�s well past that now, and the tree is just standing there...I may just end up doing that by myself too.
While Sister and I paired off to go Christmas shopping, I got an unusual amount of goggly-eyes. We separated for five minutes while I dropped something off in the car, and a girl randomly asked me how I was doing. Answered and asked her back, being the sensible thing todo, but it really caught me quite off guard. Saw an MSSMer (Sara, who spells it with an H, but whom I call Sara so as she doesn�t get confused with my older sister) and we exchanged a couple big huggs and goggly-eyes. Stopping into a gas station, a younger attendant inquired to Father as to my current availability...�Naa, he�s really more trouble than he�s worth�.
Step-cousin Tim went boink. They all tut-tutted and said that it runns in the family...it's in the jeans. But when he went to the happy hospital, he left his jeans at my house. I hope he doesn't want his grey shirt back, because we're growing rather fond of one another, we are.
"I tell this story to people all the time, but I guess it never occurred to me to tell you...there was this one time, you must have been about three; everyone else had gone outside to play, and you didn't want to come out. I went inside to see what you were doing, and you were in the living room, with the encyclopedias all over the floor, putting them back on the shelf in alphabetic order. That was the first time when I really knew that you were...that there was something 'special' about you." -Father
Revelation: I am an insomniac. It�s not chronic, just...habitual. Or maybe I�m just addicted to having purple marks under my eyes (I never have to put makeup on in the morning, hehe).
Church. Another wonderful sermon, via Step-mother. I just can�t get enough of it when she brings up abortion and makes all the foggies mill their bottoms around in their diapers, uncomfortable in the pew. My legal guardian-types always used to give me a dollar to put in the offertory plate.
It was just one of those little �passage into adulthood� ironies...The children�s sermon today was interesting, as always. They�re spelling �come� one letter a week, and this week they added on the M...so we learned about the dot-coms today. Step-mother asked them what letter they thought was next (each letter representing one of the five candles in the �wreath of burning�). They all sat there, dumbfounded, while one kid shouted out �It�s Christ, Christ, ohoh, it�s a C...� and another one berated him with �pssh...Christ isn�t a four-letter word, duh.� And I�m sure all the grown-ups in the pews secretly disagreed with the latter statement.
