proteanme

I am so fucking sick of being a second class citizen. If I thought about it every day I think I would burst with rage. Lift the ban Mr. Nobel Peace Prize winner. Toss some dignity and respect my way.

Joy.

There is joy even when you’re grieving. Sometimes right in the midst of it, like at the funeral. And sometimes right along side it, like when a friend has a baby and you meet him for the first time and he smiles at you. Or another friend gets married and you fly home and gather around with a bunch of other friends to say “right the fuck on.”

I was sitting with Kate watching Ned and Kristi dance their first dance and wondering what were they talking about up there. We speculated for a little bit and then lapsed into, well, I can’t speak for Kate, but I lapsed into something like delight. Because Ned looked so damn happy.

I’m not sure Ned left Kristi’s side for more than a few minutes the whole night. I remember saying to Pat and Rachel when we were flying home that it felt like Ned had been waiting his whole life to love someone the way he loves Kristi and he just wasn’t gonna hold back.

It’s something else, man. I’m so glad i got to be there.

How do you miss absence? I need to figure out how to explain it because that’s what it’s like missing my dad. I miss this place where mostly there was nothing punctuated by these brief appearances of something that reminded me how I was way too used to all that nothing.

Sometimes it’s like I made him up. Not because he’s dead, either. But becasue he was mostly story to beign with.

Its impossible. Not impossible in a good way how when you fly you get so high that it is impossible to understand you are miles from the ground. You look out the window and it’s fascinating, not at all like looking out a 5 story building or peaking over the edge of stadium balcony, which is something that makes me feel like my testicles are retracting, except I don’t have any testicles. Just balls.

I once loved this girl who hates me now. Every time she sees me she either walks out of the room or the building or she just acts like I’m not there. It makes me wonder if nothingness is in my DNA.

I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t moved back to RU’s this year.

I had a dream last night I was in a tornado. Mostly what I remember is this super dark sky filling up with funnel clouds, maybe four or five, and how we laid in a ditch with our cats but no one put Sasha in a crate so she ran away. I woke up feeling  pissed and sad.

There was also this 72 year old lady storm chaser. She had a perm and wore a pant suit and her retired husband drove her from storm to storm.

The thing I didn’t think about until I got to work is how in the dream I knew it was gonna be fucked up but I wasn’t scared. It was this whole exerise in absurdity except it wasn’t funny. It wasn’t just that no one in the dream would get their shit together so we could go to the basement, which is why we ended up in a ditch, but it’s how they didn’t believe me in the first place because we didn’t have a working radio or TV to get the proper announcement. I kept going outside to check and coming back reporting on the color of the sky and the number of funnel clouds and which way they were moving and everyone would say I wonder waht’s happening.

Reminds me a lot of work, which seems to be an exercise in soul killing, if you’re not real careful about what you let your mind get fixed on.

I came into today all opened up by my first trip back to Indiana since my dad died. I forgot to tuck my soul away before I got in the building.  Bad move on my part.