November 07 2006
It seems like every time I log in, regardless of how I space my log-ins, I always have exactly seventeen new entries to read.
September 27 2006
I am fourteen and David is twenty-three, in years.
In reality, David is four and I am well into my twenties.
Ever since I can remember, our parents have reminded me daily how different David is. I should never play too rough with him, but I should always include him. I should never mention that Santa Clause isn't real or that the Tooth Fairy bears a strong resemblence to our mother.
I want him to live in the real world, not this world of undisturbed whiteness we've created for him.
I'm a calm person; I don't get angry very easily.
But everytime they lie to David, to "spare" him, it's like my body is filled with this uncontrollable rage.
Like when the goldfish died and our mother told David that he had left to find work in Tibet as a tiger tamer. It was a goldfish, Mom. David didn't even like it. He said it was too slimey and didn't like his hugs. You can't protect him from everything. Why not use those opportunities to introduce him to sadness?
When our Aunt Helen was in the hospital, dying from lung cancer and alcohol poisoning, you didn't have to tell him that she was on a cruise, buying him presents. He was twenty-one. Old enough to buy his own alcohol poisoning, if he felt like it.
Does it make you feel better, Mom? Does it make you feel just a little less guilty? Like maybe if you protect him from all the harshness and hide him away in his little room, it won't matter that you and Dad liked smoke? Liked to drink? Liked to go on crazy "trips" that left you bedridden for days?
Do you think those things won't matter as long as David never knows?
I am the only one truly responsible for David. I'm the one who has his best interests at heart.
I told him about the goldfish, Mom.
He laughed. Said, "Good riddance. He was an ugly shade of orange." Does that sound overly sad to you, Mom?
And when I told him about Aunt Helen, yes, he cried. But he said he wanted her to feel better. Who do you think helped him make that "Get Well Soon" card, Mom? It wasn't you, was it? It was me.
I have a son, Mom. His name is David and he is nine years older than me.
His favourite color is red and his favourite food is popcorn.
His favourite book is If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.
He wants to go to college.
Did you know any of that, Mom?
Did you ever stop thinking of only yourself long enough to look at him and see who he is?
He wants to go to college. College.
If it weren't for me, he probably wouldn't know his ABCs.
Why were you trying to hold him back?
Why are you still trying to hold him back?
Maybe it's not the guilt. Maybe you're afraid of his failure and how it will reflect on you.
You keep David locked away, hoping no one will know about the ill-formed mind of your son, but he's brilliant.
Yes, he believes in Santa Clause and the Tooth Fairy, but he believes in other things. He believes in love, in faith, in the goodness of people; he believes in things you and I would laugh at.
He told me once that he understands "E= MCÂ²." I'll give you that I don't really believe he does, but he tries. He believes he does.
He looks at Einstein's essays for fun.
He's so much more than you ever wanted him to be. Can't you see that?
I'm begging you, Mom.
Let go of your guilt, let go of your remorse, let go of your jealousy.
Let go of David.
Let him be.
That's all he's ever wanted anyway.
What most of us want, really:
Simply to be.
August 03 2006
I know what they say. They say I'm crazy. I see the looks in their eyes and as I walk past them in the supermarket, I see them turn to one another and begin to whisper about me.
It's not that I'm paranoid.
It's simply the truth.
They say I'm hooked on a love long past. Just because I never wanted anyone but him and never dated after him doesn't mean I'm hooked on him. It just means there was no one worth my time. All those other women just went from man to man, searching for "Mr. Right." And where did it end them up?
In a smelly house with five kids and a dog.
I don't even like dogs.
And that's another thing. I'm not a senile old cat lady. Twelve cats is nothing. Now make it even baker's dozen and you've got problems. But twelve? Twelve it just a nice number. I know the kids down the street bike past my house and say mean things about my cats and me. I keep my cats inside, for Christ's sake! How do they even know how many I have?
I paid a little kid a nice shiny quarter to snoop about and tell me how many cats they say I have.
He reported back with numbers in the hundreds.
Hundreds? Where would I get the food to feed them??
No, no. Twelve is just a nice number.
But nice a number as it is, it's just not equal to that one guy.
Twelve cats doesn't equal him.
I've been living here with my twelve furry disciples, holed away, just waiting.
I couldn't even tell you what for.
I don't expect him to come back.
He's happy. I like it when he's happy. I don't want him to ever be anything but. But, God, it hurts so much to see him so happy with another woman. They don't even have a dog. She's allergic. He loves dogs. I would have let him have one, even if I was allergic.
No kids, either. I'm not sure if that's her fault or not. I've heard rumours; they say she's sterile. I bet it's all an act. He always wanted kids. He loved the sound of children laughing. I would have been a good mother for his children.
I guess that's why I'm coming to you. I don't know who to turn to. All my friends have long since left this town and he... well, he just sits with her when he's not working.
They say she might die soon.
Would it make me a bad person if I wished she'd just pass on?
I guess it does. I mean, he'd probably still be so in love with her he'd just die of a broken heart.
Why couldn't he be that in love with me?
I'd gladly switch places with her.
I'd take on her disease and suffer, just to have him hold me.
Does that make me crazy?
I think it might.
That's a lovely cat you have there. You say it's about to have kittens? Any chance you'd let me have a couple?
I could use a few more disciples.
Maybe if I just keeping bringing them in, I'll finally have enough disciples to equal one of him.
But I doubt it.
July 21 2006
So we were talking about this the other day.
Suppose the sun goes out and by some miracle, we're able to survive the cold that would surely follow...
The vegans would be the first to go, as they would all the vegetables and die.
The vegetarians would be next, because even though all the vegetables would be gone, they could still eat eggs and cheese and all the stuff the vegans wouldn't [that isn't meat].
Next would be the meat eaters, who would finish off everything the vegetarians refused to eat.
But the best type of person to be in that situation would be a cannibal. They would have food much longer than anyone else.
Just a thought.