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Thursday, November 03, 2005
No condolences, please
My great-grandmother, Lucía, died last night at about 6:30 p.m.
I had heard earlier in the day that she was taken to the hospital and wasn't doing well. Midway through our Wednesday night rehearsal, my dad called and told me that she passed away.
I continued at rehearsal. We told dirty stories and talked about relationships and worked on "Greasers" for the millionth time. I didn't bring up the phone call I'd just received.
We broke early and I drove home down I-35 listening to "Funeral" again, which wasn't the best choice at the moment because the lyrics seemed even more sad and beautiful than they did that morning.
I didn't get to talk to Rebecca for another hour, but when I did, I was a little short, complaining that my phone reception was breaking up and that I didn't know what to make for dinner. Sometimes, when I'm sad, I get really pissy and annoyed and overwhelmed by minutiae.
Sara was over, but I barely spoke to her. I washed dishes in a sort of huff and made a crap dinner of Gordon's fish fillets and tater tots. The fillets cooked and when I was taking out the cookie sheet, I lost my grip on it. The cookie sheet slid out, hit the open inside of the stove door and fell to the floor spilling the fillets and tater tots all over the floor. I pushed the grill back into the stove and slammed the stove door. I got on my knees and cleaned the floor, spraying the tile with Lysol and mopping up the grease and tots.
Rebecca got home and we went to pick up Taco Cabana. We talked and talked some more and I don't remember what we said, but I felt better.
My family and I would go to Lucía's house every holiday. (Except last year, when we were in the middle of moving and Rebecca and I didn't travel down to the Valley.) The memories I have that are strongest of her house are of the impatience of childhood. Not being able to wait to leave so I could go home and play with my new toys. She had a huge bird in a giant cage in her living room and I remember thinking that was really cool. They had a puppy at one point. She always gave me gifts for Christmas, even when the last time I'd seen her was the Christmas before.
She was my great grandmother on my mother's side, the mother of the grandfather I never had; he died before I was born. We weren't so close to that side of the family that I saw them all the time. They lived in the same town as my grandmother, but it seemed like she lived in a whole other place, far away, seldom seen.
Which is to say I didn't know her. I could lie and say I should have made more of an effort to know her, but the truth is I'm not sure I would have known her even if I had. She was, to me, another face of a relative who was always a part of my life and never a part of my life.
So why do I feel so sad? Why am I holding back tears as I write this? Why do you feel loss for someone you never had or knew?
The thing is, I remember her face so clearly, a face that was old even when my memories of life just begin. Her face is there, but she is lost, and I don't have the comfort of remembering her stories or her life to keep her going in me. Others do. People in my family will remember her far more clearly than me.
But I still feel her loss, even as I can hide it at work until it inevitably comes up. I can make a stupid, joking remark about whether I'll be going to her funeral, but despite my cynicism, my blasé attitude about the inevitability of death and the fragility of others, I can't deny that there is a deep and penetrating sadness in me right now. I feel it, physically, in my stomach, in my sinuses, behind my teary eyes. It's there, concrete and tangible.
What's most troubling, what fills me with anxiety, is that I've never experienced the loss of someone much closer to me. If this is the feeling I have now, I fear, truly fear, what that would feel like.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Radio Rahim Moment
I came out to Whole Foods because their wireless is as tasty as their fresh pizza. I'm outside in the courtyard where I can see Waterloo Records and Amy's Ice Cream. I hear a girl near me talk about how she subscribes to the Playboy Channel because at $14.99 it's cheaper than porn and makes her feel less dirty watching it.
And then this dude comes by with a little portable radio blasting En Vogue's "Never Gonna Get It." Now, first of all... En Vogue? Really? That's what you're going to blast for a courtyard full of strangers? And then you're going to stand there for five minutes, totally grooving, convinced that everyone is blown away by your coolness?
It's En Vogue, man. Even they're glad they're not still together.
And then En Vogue Dude just walks off into the sunset, seeking his next aural conquest.
He's got my vote
It's not too early to start sending tribute to Zod.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
For the love of ratings
New Smallville recap:
Bite or flight -- Lana fulfills Omar's years-old prediction by joining a sorority of lesbian vampires and becoming Kreukferatu. They suck out her blood, but inject some personality. Chloe tangles with Carrie Fisher, the new Daily Planet editor, and Marsters goes mano-a-mano with Lex. Those are some good manos. But really, it's all about the lesbian vampires.
The ultimate in geekdom
In the last few years, I've managed to hide my inner geek pretty well. I got me a wife. I have a house. Despite the fact that I live with multiple cats, I pretend not to enjoy it. I play video games, but I tell people I do it for work, which swaddles me in the rags of someone who has found a way to succor employment out of what would otherwise be an expensive and nerdy hobby.
But sometimes, when my wife isn't looking or when I'm not pretending to be normal, my inner geek springs forth, pimply and fat, desperate to be a part of any techno-subculture. Is it wrong to want to impress a bunch of l33ting dudes online?
To such an end, I went to a rave on Friday. I missed the whole rave scene, maybe because I just didn't befriend the right acid heads in high school, but I was able to experience the next best thing. Behold! A World of Warcraft virtual rave! Yes, this is what I did on Friday. Why are you looking at me like that?
(click on images for bigger versions)
Everyone gathered at the Deeprun tram in Ironforge which is the train station that takes you from Ironforge to Stormwind. It's like I got the bus routes memorized, huh?
Someone got the bright idea to move the party from the Ironforge side to the aquarium-looking area in the middle. There's a (virtual) glass partition separting the north and south tracks, so we were yelling and gesturing to the handful of people on the wrong side of the tracks. It was totally 8 Mile.
We all started dancing with our crazy masks. That's me, the littlest dwarf.
When you drink in the game, things start to get a little blurry.
Things got crazy. There was dancing. I drunk-messaged everybody!
Dang, girl. Why you still up in my grill? I ain't got a Shatter spell in my pocket!
Oh, God. I think I'm gonna be sick. Some members of The Horde were invited (they're the enemy of the Alliance in the game) and they kept getting attacked. We kept telling people to chill, but it didn't work. It might not have helped that every time they showed up, I yelled, "THERE'S SOME HORDES IN THIS HOUSE! THERE'S SOME HORDES IN THIS HOUSE!"
So... drunk. The hosts of the rave had a Shoutcast going with music and commentary. They played some Prodigy, which really fit the moment.
I left the party at one point and then I couldn't find it. Everybody had migrated back to the station where they were trying to do a raffle (that didn't work out as planned) and it took me a while to get back there. Sadly, by the time I arrived, I was sober again.
This green fucking goblin tried to freak me. Not cool, man. Don't touchie the dwarfy.
So that's it. My Friday night of geekdom. You still respect me, right? Oh, you never did? All right then.
Bobbo and Meany and some bees are featured in today's new Space Monkeys! comic. It's a tasty treat, I think.
Monday, October 31, 2005
A Halloween thought
We won't be home for part of tonight, so we're going to miss the potential trick-or-treaters. Yes, we're that shitty couple that isn't even home on Halloween to give out candy. Commence to egg-ening.
Work's been very strange today. There aren't as many people dressed up as in most years, but the people who made the effort really made the effort. They're walking around in character and shit. You ask somebody to relay a message and they fall down limp because they're The Scarecrow. Yes, I understand you're using The Method. Could you please turn in my invoice and try not to get too much straw on it?
There was a very bad storm and it got very dark around 2 p.m., which was very Halloweeny.
The other thing that happened was all last night and this morning I was finishing a recap for a Smallville episode about lesbian vampires. So I have bloodsucking on the brain. And it didn't help that Penny Arcade did a strip recently using the word "Cockthirsty," which I find very funny (though it doesn't really go with lesbian vampires. At least not the lesbian part).
Did I mention it's been a weird day?
We went to a party Friday night that didn't require us to drive an hour, which was very nice. We didn't know very many people there, but we arrived around midnight and people had already been drinking a while, so it was very cool to just join in at that point. The Ghostbusters guy had the best costume.
So, be safe tonight, all right? Don't eat the candy with the razor blade in it.
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