Just A Dream

Mom was unresponsive. She was breathing but not responding to my voice. She lay on the bed diagonally, her face peaceful.

I called 911 and waited. Back and forth between her room and mine-waiting. Why did they take so long to get here?

The EMT was tired. He wanted to be at home with his family instead of trying to save mine.

Mom remained quiet and floppy like a doll. The EMT turned to me and there was kind sadness in his eyes. "Does she have a will to live?"

I couldn't answer.

I had lost count of late night 911 calls and EMT visits over the years. This was the first time someone had asked me that and the first time I really thought that maybe she didn't.

She stayed another year and a half before she was gone. She was so sad for so long. Later, I wondered if she'd stayed because she knew we weren't ready to let go. I wonder if she heard me when I told her it was ok. That dad and I were going to be ok and that she could rest. I wonder if it was for me to rest too.

I see the bed sometimes. It's usually bright with white sheets and a chrome frame-like one out of a haunted hospital wing. Sometimes it's the bed I accidentally saw her and dad 'watching tv' on once. Sometimes it's my own bed and that's when I tell myself to stop thinking about it.

I see myself standing outside their apartment and the ambulance pulling up. I hear the EMTs greet mom by name and I realize then, it's a lot worse than I knew. That was in the beginning, before the Facility.

I hear her voice, thickly calling my name because the coma was creeping closer and she needed insulin. I feel the needle in my hand and see her bare flesh as it sinks in to save her. I hear her words become incomprehensible and fear begin to crawl up my spine.  That was before, when I was still at home and sleeping down the hall.


I hear her crying like no one can hear her. I hear her calling out for her mother, for my father, for god, for anyone to make her pain stop. I hear her voice laced with loneliness and heartache and feel that I should be able to help her but I don't know how. I feel useless and in the way and broken.

"Does she have a will to live?"

I couldn't answer.

After Midnight

I wonder if anyone that isn't a writer would understand that sometimes I just need to write. My fingers get itchy. My mind starts whirling with amazing thoughts of all kinds of things and my pen can't move quickly enough. Or my fingers, if I'm typing.

It has to be quiet when I write. If the music is on I get distracted, start singing along. I can't sing and type. It's my chew bubble gum/walk.

I'm going to write a letter to Chrissy. She died just before Valentine's Day and I never got to say all the things I wanted to. I should have said them years ago and didn't because...I thought I'd always be able to. It will be one of the pieces in my book, next to a picture of the ocean.

I want a picture of my dad's hands. A million stories can come from one line in his skin. An untapped source.

The door of the barn half in shadows. That will be another inspiration.  The door looked as though it led to secrets and it was the first picture I took where I remember seeing more than just what the camera had caught.

It's late but my windows are still open and I just heard a homeless person push a shopping cart down the street. It echoed off the church walls and I heard it here, in my office and knew exactly what it was. 

A boy from the dating site wants me to text him. Not call him, text him because he's playing a game on his xbox and it's easier than email. Wow.

I'm eating little red licorice scottie dogs and listening to the Cranberries. I should be in a kilt.

I get to break my fast with a friend tomorrow morning. I'm going to say more Game of Throne-y things like 'break my fast' and 'winter is coming' and calling people bastards. All in an English accent.

I sometimes wish I didn't care at all. Then my period starts and I like my compassion again.

'They' always say that you come to a time in your life when you just don't care what others think about you and that you feel more comfortable in your skin. I thought I had it before. I have it now.  I figured out how to be nice and not get shat upon. Turned out to be a little more difficult than just wanting to.

"Let it Be" reminds of a guy I thought I loved. If I can find the right picture, I think I'd like to write about him.

It was still yesterday when I started writing this. But I had to. You understand, don't you?

Oh My God, Online Dating

DISCLAIMER:
I haven't been doing the online dating thing very long and I recognize that these things take time.
I have a raging case of pms that has caused me to want to punch people in the throat off and on for about 3 days.
It's pretty much common knowledge that men are stupid and I came to terms with that years ago. I also accepted that I liked them anyway. 



 Online dating is proving to be sort of not awesome. I think its more my speed than actual one on one in person, face to face type dating though. At least this way I just have to deal with the rejection of my picture, a small self summary and my list of likes on food, movies, music and tv.


Question for you, male 'matches'. Why are you still on an online dating site, listed as single when you are 'seeing someone'? Are you really, or are you just trying to let me down easy? Fuck you. I don't need your sympathy. I'll meet someone that freaking LOVES that I like the Muppets and that I have to have tp come from the top.  And maybe I really DO like drinking pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. Who are you to judge me?

End (mostly sarcastic) rant.

I told you I had pms.

I think I'm disappointed because this has sort of always been my type of dating. I express myself well through my words. I'm witty and clever and funny and kind and understanding, all behind the safety of a computer screen. This is my Playboy mansion.

It's when I'm standing in front of someone that I get all stupid. I usually attach Retail Face (surprisingly effective in these types of situations) and wing it and noone is the wiser.  I haven't had many boyfriends and the ones I've had were more like superfriends instead of boyfriends so I'm actually pretty clueless.

When I'm click click clicking away through an IM screen, I'm much more likely to tell you how amazing I am.  I do it even though I hope the right person will be able to see it without me saying so because it's easier through typed words. And if we get to the point of coffee or drinks or some other evening activity, it's almost a given that I will freak out a little even though I'll still do it though. That's why this time it's different.

It's a new world out there. People don't even need to see each other in person anymore. I remember when I first started working in the shop I told my coworker that my future husband would own a Lab, drive a truck and have eyes that smiled.

He hasn't come in yet.

So I'm doing what all the other kids are doing. I'm doing the online dating thing-something I used to whisper when I told people and now am blogging about.  I figure I have way more control this way.  If I get to the point where its just pissing me off, or the rejection has gotten a little too real, I'll just stop checking the stupid little mailbox for awhile. I'll let them come to me. Who knows? Maybe they'll have a Lab.