Voices in my head

I got a call from my mom yesterday, telling me that a highschool friend of mine committed suicide on Sunday. Oddly, I'm feeling more upset about the fact that I don't feel too upset about this than I am about a friend dying.

I believe I last saw Steve some time back in '96 or maybe '97, so it wasn't like we were close any more, but he was a staple of my high school existence. The thought that I can't ever just randomly bump into him again or search him out and catch up on our lives isn't hitting me like I thought it would. I mean, you spend enough time gaming in an ass smelling basement or driving to larps together and the bond that is formed should be stronger than just a random acquaintance, right? But then I keep coming back to the fact that sometime during college, I went my way and he went his, and that this is a normal fact of life - friends come and go and sometimes you stay in touch and sometimes you don't. In this case, we both did the latter.

I guess I just sort of wish that I had made the effort to keep in touch. Not that I am under any sort of delusion that I would have been able to save him if I had, but I can't help but wonder about the positive ways we might have impacted each other's lives had we stayed in touch. That and maybe I'd actually be feeling something about Steve being dead other than this abstract notion of sorrow.

I sort of love this scene. Apart from Nathan Lane's over-the-top performance, I really love the bit about the balloon at 5:38. Not that I spend a whole heck of a lot of time pondering God and the good in humanity mind you, but that descriptor has always stuck with me.

It has been a long time since I have posted here and this makes me sad. Not that anyone still on LJ is really missing all that much in terms of my life but still, there was a time wherein I was posting every day and it isn't like the thoughts and feelings I had then aren't still here.

Clearly an experiment is called for! I'm going to start trying to do a daily post again and do my best to avoid just endlessly spouting how much I hate my job (I hate it a lot) or inundating y'all with anecdotes of just how awesome my son is (he is awesome).

Right, that is all for now. Carry on citizens.

Today's introspective question is "who is my Maria?". I'll let y'all figure that one out on your own.

Been on something of a retro-ish music kick today and rediscovered the following:



Enjoy.

Years ago, my mother and I were driving home from an appointment. It was December and it had been snowing for several hours and there was about a foot of snow on the ground. We were driving on Rt. 2 and right before we got to the Waltham St. exit, we hit a patch of black ice and spun out. Long story short, we came within a hair's breadth of being in a head-on with a tractor trailer truck. After we realized we weren't actually going to die that night, and we were safely away from further near death experiences, my mom did something which seemed odd to me at the time. She just sat there, with this blank expression on her face. I knew she was just as full of adrenalin as I was at that moment, but she still just sat there and wouldn't speak.

Flash forward to today, this morning, in fact. The baby and I were making our daily trip to daycare and as we were pulling out of our street, I almost t-boned a police car - there was a truck pulled over on the side of the road blocking my view and even though I had carefully checked as best I could and thought that I was clear, it appears that I failed my awareness check. Long story short here too, everyone was okay, the policeman yelled at the truck driver for parking in an absolutely moronic place and then reassured me that he was okay and that I wasn't a) at fault and b) in any trouble. I had pulled over to the side of the road, right after almost hitting the cruiser and after making sure I wasn't going to be ticketed, I just sat there, adrenalin coursing through my veins, and just stared at the baby in the rear view mirror while he contentedly looked at some raindrops on the window next to him. I imagine that if the baby ever remembers this moment, he'll be puzzled over the blank look that I'm sure was on my face.

Through the jumble of my thoughts, the one constant thread was that my son could have been seriously injured somehow and I would have ultimately felt responsible for it since I was driving and in charge of his safety. I once commented to my mom about how odd her reaction was to me on that night, oh so many years ago, especially since it stood in such stark contrast to my need to be moving, to bleed off the excess of the fight or flight response. She had just given me this look which I couldn't begin to fathom until today. I really hate the argument of "you aren't a parent, you wouldn't understand." but I'm finding that sometimes that does happen to be the case. I couldn't understand my mother's reaction until I was in a similar situation.

It's funny to me how being a parent is seems to be this odd learning experience about love, fear, sorrow and patience. Every day brings a new challenge for my love and I, new sets of fond memories and new sets of worries for the future as we realize that our son is growing up faster and faster. Through it all, we're managing not to lose our minds and also finding just how much love you can be filled with, and I think it is that love that causes moments like the one I had this morning. The very thought of that love being altered or absent from my life scared me so deeply that I almost shut down when I had a moment to reflect upon it.

Man, this parenting thing is a scary trip, sometimes.

"Blow O wind to where my loved one is. Touch him and come touch me soon. I'll feel his gentle touch through you and meet his beauty in the moon. These things are much for the one who loves. One can live by them alone: that he and I breathe the same air and that the Earth we tread is one."

Non-meme meme time:

Tell me something true. It doesn't matter if it is a long and elaborate story or just a statement, as long as it is true.

Comments will be screened unless you request that yours not be. Also, anonymous commenting is allowed and IP logging has been turned off, so if'n you want to be all ninja, you can.

I feel restless today. Every hint of a breeze sends a longing through me to be free. I want to run from the house and out into the world. I want to roam forests and lounge on the banks of clear streams. I want to let loose a cry that echoes across the land my song of freedom.

I want.

A conversation the other day served to illustrate just how far I have come from the angry 23 year old who didn't care enough about anyone to even think about the social ramifications of his actions. I still feel like I have a long way to go to get where I want to be, but it is nice to see evidence of progress.

Said conversation also served to remind me of how difficult it must have been to deal with me back then. brunahildm, although I've said this before, if you happen to see this, I'm sorry.

Preparatory to our trip to Spain, I picked up the Instant Immersion Spanish disc set as a refresher for my atrophied Spanish skills. Thus far, I am happy with it and am finding it easy to get back on the horse as it were, but one thing keeps driving me crazy. All the voice work is done in a Castilian accent, and my accent is mostly Venezuelan. I've always found the Castilian lisp to be somewhat irritating to listen to and I find I'm focusing too much on the accent and having to repeat stuff. I should just bite the bullet and shift accents (it isn't that hard for me when it comes to Spanish), since I'd be less likely to be looked at like us East Coasters tend to look at Southerners when they talk, but that would feel like giving up somehow.

In any case, yay for re-learning languages and for trips to Spain!