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December 30, 2004
Requisite 2004 in review post
Hey, 2004: don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.
On February 1 of this year, I got a call that something was up with my dad, that he didn't seem to be doing to well and his girlfriend's son was worried about him and thought a family member ought to know. That night, my mom went over to his apartment to discover that "worried" was an underreaction of epic proportions. One day later, I was visiting an emaciated, overmedicated, hallucinating, broken-elbowed man in the hospital. Eight days after that, I was accompanying him across the street to a pink-brick nursing center. Ten days after that, a gavel fell and I became my dad's temporary guardian, a role that was cemented into permanence three months later.
The last eleven(!) months, the aspect of them that I've been calling Project Dad, have sucked. It's calmed down in the last few months from an unbelievable, all-consuming level of suck that made me wonder if I was going to make it, to a sort of dull tired suck, but the suck has hung in there, permeating everything in a way I've never experienced before, lowering my ability to enjoy even the other, fun parts of my life. I don't really feel like I've learned much; I don't really think I have a handle on how to do this job of guardianship very well. (For example, I cannot figure out how to keep the man supplied with pants. Where do the pants go? Why do the ones that stay seem to get boiled and shrunk down to child-size? What is up with the pants pants pants?) I have an "oh shit, I totally forgot about/neglected/am late with my responsibility for X detail of Dad's life" moment about once per day, still. And I'm still having a lot of trouble wrapping my head around the fact that, yes, I really have to do this.
So I'm not exaggerating when I say that I'm eager to put 2004, with its surreally ugly beginning and backbreaking middle and stunned end, behind me.
But. I would be remiss not to mention another thing that's happened this year. You often hear people say things like "Just wait 'til something really bad happens, 'til you're really in trouble, then you'll see who your real friends are." And their tone is usually ominous, as if to say "you'll also find out who a few of your friends aren't."
That hasn't been the case for me, though. I guess I just lucked out in the people-you-know lottery, because if anything my family and friends have offered more help and support than I would have thought to ask for. Although I felt burdened with a lot of shit this year, I could also hardly turn around without someone offering a ride, a sympathetic ear, a piece of thoughtful advice, a clean pile of dishes, a phone call, an errand, a hug. So, inadequate as it is to try to say this here: thanks for the boost. You probably don't know how much it helped.
So I guess one way to put a tidy little meaning on all this and to pass the turnstile into 2005 is just to change the focus: instead of thinking about all the crappy things I have to do, think about the things I can do for, and with, the kind and loving people to whom I owe a debt of thanks. Instead of focusing on all I'm missing, on the failures, resolve to appreciate how much better things are now, for me and for my dad, than they were almost a year ago. I guess that might be a good thing to do. Maybe I should be grateful for the last year and all it's taught me.
Screw that; it still sucked, and I already knew how awesome you all are. I couldn't be gladder to climb out of the trenches of 2004 and get on with Project Focus on the Good Stuff (and Also a Buttload More Sleeping). Happy New Year!
Posted by hilatron at 12:58 PM | Comments (6)
December 28, 2004
Can't Complain About the Weather
I guess I know where my five bucks is going this month. 44,000 dead and rising, holy crap.
Here's a list of aid agencies compiled by CNN; here's a BBC page on aid (look for the "How You Can Help" box two-thirds of the way down). I haven't even had a chance to look at all these links myself, but I'm hoping somewhere there will be a collection of actual items as well as money. I mean I don't have much to give, but I have more clothes and blankets and such than I need and maybe it is time for someone else to have them, if they do not mind using my old stuff. If anyone hears about a collection of such things, let me know, eh?
UPDATE: Here's one clothing drive: Reachout India is trying to help families in and around Chennai. Of course, I don't know how the hell it would get there; I bet the mail is not working so well.
Here's a blog entry with lots of aid advice and ideas; the blog itself also contains first-hand information on the situation there.
FURTHER UPDATE: the Red Cross advises against donations of goods, which makes sense when you think about it, so save it for the Planet Aid boxes I guess. Or maybe there will be a need for such things later, when things are more sane.
Posted by hilatron at 12:05 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
December 23, 2004
Another Lame List
Here is a list of things that, were I a totalitarian ruler*, would require a license:
-Parenting
-Walking two abreast on the sidewalk (test: "Can you GET THE SHIT OUT OF PEOPLE'S WAY when they are coming toward you? Yes or No")
-Riding a bike
-Operating a cell phone
-Wearing: ponchos, short pants with boots, hats for purposes other than warmth
-Operating a shopping cart
-Interacting with store clerks
-Using public transportation
-Sitting next to me at work, seriously, what the fuck is up with the audible chewing, the dramatic sighing, the whistling, the finger-tapping? I am going to STAB YOU IN THE EYE.
It would be a hard world, but fair.
*Which you know I totally would be, right? Sure, after the coup I'd be all "Hey guys, everything's cool, we can all get along! Just watch out for each other, and you can do whatever you want." And then two days later I'd be all "Well, but don't do that" and we'd just go downhill from there.
Posted by hilatron at 09:56 AM | Comments (1)
December 22, 2004
Yawn
People, I am ominously tired. I was going to make cookies tonight, but might end up face-first in some chocolatey batter instead.
Posted by hilatron at 04:39 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
December 20, 2004
Thesis: Why My Pants Do Not Fit
Hmm, I have some stank breath. That lasagne was garlicky. And I have no gum! Woe is me!
Oh, hey, there are candy canes in the lounge.
They are peppermint! Mint! Mint in all its breath-freshening goodness!
Here, I shall pull out a candy cane from the box. Oops, these candy canes come in little crimped plastic cellophane tubes, each containing two candy canes with additional crimping corralling them into opposite ends of the tube.
One candy cane is broken. I shall take that one, out of a misplaced and somewhat disingenuous sense of meekness.
Wait! I deserve the unbroken candy cane! My breath is entitled to the pristine offense-reducing power of a whole, unsullied cane! I Am Worth It!
...Huh. These two candy canes are locked together, with no perforation or anything to help one separate this crimped-and-divided cellophane tube into two crimped cellophane tubes.
I could cut the tube with scissors. But: snack food should not be something you need to open or manipulate with scissors. In this, the greatest country in the world, we should not need tools to access our slow sugary deaths!
I could open one end of the tube, remove a cane, and leave the other, packaging attached, but would that not be akin to leaving one's candy wrappers lying around? A flapping, empty cellophane representation of irresponsibility, attached to a broken candy cane, what could be sadder?
Poor broken candy cane, left bereft, attached to the byproduct of your brother's demise. Who would claim you, you who are not as beautiful, perhaps, but every bit as tasty?
There is nothing for it but to eat both candy canes - for the environment, for the less fortunate, for America. It's the right thing to do!
Posted by hilatron at 03:14 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
Multiple Choice
Okay, I am sitting here on hold with the Soothing Image Center where Dad lives, waiting to speak to someone about The Poop Problem, Mach 2 (see previous entries re: not asking; shooting in head).
What I am wondering is why I just apologized to the receptionist when she came back to double-check who I'm waiting to speak to. Is it:
1) Because the Guardian Guilt* is slowly seeping outward into the rest of my interactions?
2) Because I am so thoroughly programmed to be on the other end of the receptionist/caller transaction that I automatically inserted the apology for having to ask twice that the Soothing Image Center receptionist did not?
3) Because my reaction to the fortresslike, clanky, inscrutable machinery that is the Long Term Care Institution is to retreat into sullen, resentful subservience, where I grovel and whimper at the feet of the great unthinking beast, all the while hating it, thus voluntarily putting myself in a position of permanent disempowerment?
4) Because I totally need to go spend my last $3 for the week on a sugary, caffeine-laden Dunkin Donuts concoction that will hopefully grease those old social interaction wheels and make me stop saying sentences before I review what they mean?
5) All of the above?
*Guardian Guilt, in a nutshell: Guardians - usually guarding people whose lives are, by definition, very hard in one way or another, otherwise they wouldn't need a guardian, right? Guardians also - responsible for the contentment, safety, etc. of their charges to the extent that one person can ensure such things for another person. Charges - usually not in a position where they can be all that content/happy/whatever all that much of the time, because of the aforementioned hard life thing. Guardians therefore - charged with performing a task at which they can achieve only partial success at best, and knowing that the failures are measured in the discontent/unhappiness/whatever of their charges. Thus - guilt. Huh. Some nutshell.
Posted by hilatron at 11:34 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
December 18, 2004
Ha ha, that's a good one (jackass).
Please note that it is just after 9 am on a Saturday as I type this entry, the entry that is all about me being awake because apparently I have lost the ability to sleep heroically late. WHYEEEEEEE couldn't you take my legs?* Seriously, sleeping late is like my THING man, it's what I DO. And this is my one sleep-late day in like forever and you take that away? Screw you. Bah humbug!
*Note to mythic universal retribution machine: so just kidding it's not even funny.
Posted by hilatron at 09:07 AM | Comments (1)
December 15, 2004
Hey, Internet.
Tell me what to read. I'm bored.
Posted by hilatron at 12:48 PM | Comments (7)
December 14, 2004
The List Thing
Okay, so the craft fairs are over and were pretty fun and even somewhat profitable, but they have left my brain dull and empty and sluggish in the face of a whole host of gift-wrangling, travelling, Dad-administrating duties that got shoved to the sidelines in the last couple of weeks. What I'm trying to say is: don't expect anything grand around here, kids. I'm gonna do the list thing for awhile:
THINGS I HATED TODAY
1) Seven o'clock in the morning.
2) My chapstick, nestled safely in the pocket of the pants I wore yesterday instead of being here with me.
3) My book, cuddled smugly next to the bed where I left it last night instead of being here with me.
4) The effing laser printer, which DOES NOT HAVE A PAPER JAM, by the way, YOU WHINEY LITTLE DRAMA QUEEN.
5) The bathrooms at work: access to, and cleanliness of.
6) The hiccups.
7) The telephone.
8) The cold.
9) My cold.
10) James Taylor and his insufferable strain of agressive blandness, my god, listening to him do a cover of an actual fun song is like getting attacked by a roving gang of giant, animate Valium tablets.
11) AAAAAAAUGH! (AAAAAAAAUGH?!?!?!)
12) All sentences that begin "I need your help with..." "I have a problem..." "Where is the...?" or "Just one thing..."
13) The infernally appealing smell of someone's damn fancypants egg-and-cheese sandwich, damn damn damn you, go away and leave me alone and leave your damn delicious sandwich here, I will look after it I promise.
14) No more chocolates in the breakroom?! Damn!
Posted by hilatron at 12:22 PM
December 08, 2004
I TOLD you things were going to be boring.
I've got nothing to say, but others do: check the comments on the Texas Textbook Woohaw entry for insight from an insider.
Posted by hilatron at 11:11 AM | Comments (2)