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Location: British Columbia, Canada

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Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Night of the Inane Comments

Englebert Humperdink's 'Quando Quando Quando' is a really good song to drink by yourself too. But only if you're drinking beer, and it's summer.

Tomorow I will:
Figure out why I can't work my spell check
Format the shit out of this blog
Add apostrophies where apostrophies oughta be
Clean my fish tanks
Stop hiding from my naturopath, and tell her I have failed
Learn how to spell necessary, without looking it up
Learn how to look things up, without having to recite the alphabet to myself

My Stepdad just called:
Sd: So, how're things going?
Me: Good. Pressure washers are gone, so I got the furniture and plants back outside, and I'm just in the process of reclaiming my balcony with cheesy tunes and beer.
Sd: Good plan.
Me: Yup.
Sd: Yup.
This is why parents remarry. Expand the personality profiles within a family, round it out.
Of course, brings back memories:
Me, age 16, shortly before being banned from the house for good. Just got home, been curiously absent from home and school for the last 48 hrs.
Walk in wide open front door, sliding glass door out back is also wide open. It's January. It's snowing.
Me: Hey Ma? You here?
My Mother: Hello! Good to see you!
Ma has a bottle of red wine in one hand, glass in the other. Glass is empty, she's drinking from the bottle.
Me: (dubious) So, how's it going?
Ma: Great! I'm just relaxing! Come talk to me! How have you been?
Leads me into the living room. Tchaikovsky is blasting on the stereo, my stepdad is passed out on the chouch, some unknown man is passed out in a chair.
Ma sits, cross legged, on the floor next to a plate of crackers and cheese. She's wearing one of those old fashioned, full length cotton nightgowns that you always think people's grandma's ought to wear.
Ma: Well, I got home today, and my husband had vanished, and you still hadn't reappeared. I figured everyone was out 'partying' (you can actually hear the quotation marks when Ma says things like 'partying') so I thought I'd throw my own party! And then my husband showed up, with company, and look! Now you're back too!
Begins mowing down on cheese, while humming The Waltz of the Flowers. Stops only to take a swig from the bottle. She still has the empty wine glass with her.
I figure this is probably some weird form of punishment, and hide in my room.

Gonna start my own religion one of these days. Figure I've created enough sayings that could pass as proverbs. That's all you need, isn't it?
Had a run in with God a while back. Sleeping one night, the head of my bed is directly under the window. Suddenly, there are two incredibly loud bangs on the window. At the same time, a voice in my head says, Make them stop fighting. Sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding. Being an atheist, I decided to ignore the whole God talking to me part of the situation, and figure out where the hell the pounding came from. (I'm on the seventh floor. Not too likely it was someone outside my window.) Didn't find a source.
Told a friend about it the next day. Got a good laugh out of the idea that I'm the next prophet. (She was raised as a Catholic/Sikh. She's pretty open to new ideas.) Then she kept looking at me slantwise, considering the possibility. Made me nervous. Very nervous. Maybe I won't start my own religion. Might get around to making "them stop fighting" though, if I had a clue who "them" was. Course, by now they've probably quit on their own. Bored, you'd think.

Adrien is on MSN messenger right now. Guy I dated a while back. From France, goes the University of Monaco. Windsurfing instructor in his down time. Speaks three languages fluently, at least five in total (I don't know how many, he doesn't brag about it.) Terrified of my cat. Thinks my carpet's a living entity. Love that boy.
I'm pretending to be offline. Because of the time change, we don't end up online at the same time that often. But we have great talks. I just don't feel like having a great talk with anyone other than myself right now.
In Beginner Psych for Dummies, we learned some concept (which I forget the name for) which says that we look for too much meaning in the actions of others. If someone acts like a cranky bitch, we assume they're a bitch. Maybe they're just cranky that day. If someone doesn't call, we assume they're not interested/responsible/caring, etc. Maybe they're just busy.
Sometimes, as Freud would say, a penis is just a penis. (I'm sure he said that, he must have had a sense of humour. There's no way anyone like him could honestly take themselves seriously, is there?)
The skin on Adrien's back fits him like a wetsuit.

It's funny what we adjust to, and what we still appreciate. Four years and fourteen days ago, I was a pregnant, single, jobless, high school drop out, and living in a motorhome in a parking lot with no electricity, no running water ( which means no toilet), and a two foot by two foot hole in the ceiling.
Yet now, I'm doing my second degree (I count my associates degree as a degree), and I feel like that's normal. I have clothes that fit, and I feel like I'm entitled to them. I can eat whenever I want, I feel like that's just the way things work. Hell, I can even afford cigarettes on general principle, and I'm not awed by this.
But curtains? Man, I fucking love curtains. I still can't get over curtains. Close them, and ain't no one can see you. No worries about freaks watching you sleep, nothing. I love curtains. I still open and close my curtains every once in a while, just cause I can. I'm a curtain junkie. They gotta be opened in the morning, closed at night, rotate season dependant, and weather dependant. I have a more precise and intricate system for my curtains than most physicists for deriving new formulae.
Never will I ever take curtains for granted.

I used to go to Alabama. Never actually got there (coming from Canada, as a broke-assed teenager), but piss me off when I was drunk, and hell, Alabama, here I come. The farthest I ever got was to Vancouver, which, from my hometown, was four hours driving (or hitchhiking, in my case), then a two hour ferry ride. Don't actually remember the trip, just remember waking up at the ferry terminal in Vancouver, feeling like shit and very confused. Called my best friend, who I'd been out with the night before, she had no idea how I got there. Fortunately, I'd apparently (yes, looked that one up) planned ahead. Had six hundred pennies in my pocket. Exactly enough, in those days, to pay for the ferry back across. Got my friend to call home, convince my sister to tell my mother that I'd gone to the lake with the guys, wouldn't be home until late.
Don't know where my obsession with Alabama came from. It was so firmly entrenched that back when my dad and stepmother actually thought I'd graduate from high school, they'd planned on getting me a train pass to Alabama as my grad present.
I really wish I new where the Alabama fixation came from. It's such an odd thing not to know about oneself.

Okay, I'm quitting now. I have this holy terror that my computer's gonna crash before I post this, so I'm done.

7 Comments:

Blogger Truecraig said...

I am afraid that you might be sorely disappointed with Alabama, assuming you ever make it. I would recommend aiming higher, say, Cuba or something.

Just a thought.

7/28/2005 12:10 PM  
Blogger Impulsivecompulsive said...

Cuba...cigars. Gotta take up smoking cigars first. I'll get to work on that one. Little harder to hitchhike to Cuba though, isn't it?

7/28/2005 1:00 PM  
Blogger Boo! said...

I used to threaten to move to Texas to live with the cowboys and their horses.

7/28/2005 1:24 PM  
Blogger Impulsivecompulsive said...

Truecraig? Texas any better?

7/28/2005 1:36 PM  
Blogger Truecraig said...

Depends on where in Texas you intend to go. Austin is my version of perfection. Marfa is interesting. Dallas and Houston are unnecessarily enormous (and blow diseased donkey dicks). San Antonio is far too military for my taste. I hear that Amarillo is cool if you're wealthy, white, and Republican. So there's that.

Go Cuba!

7/28/2005 2:14 PM  
Blogger Impulsivecompulsive said...

Military...republicans...diseased donkey dicks...
And this is better than Alabama?
Alright. Cuba it is.

7/28/2005 2:50 PM  
Blogger bnlv said...

I would've suggested NYC. An astounding city of all that one could want. 'Course it would make a great hitchiking adventure too!

10/10/2005 2:58 AM  

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