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Friday, July 3, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Lois and Clark(Clois)--Sing For Absolution
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Wednesday, June 17, 2009
I miss You Dion
June 17 2002,
My knuckles are white as I clench the steering wheel. My hair, still wet from my shower, is dripping down my back and soaking my t-shirt. It’s just a little after midnight and there are just a few people on the road. The bright lights of oncoming traffic sting my eyes and my mind races instead of processing what has just happened. My thoughts wander as I approach my destination. All those moments, of terrifying nights worried about getting a late phone call with bad news, waking up from a bad dream or waiting at a neighbor's house because of a surprise visit to the hospital flash through my head. I can recall one day in particular and as my mind frantically refuses to accept what is really happening at this very moment and I begin to focus on that day in particular.
“What is this!” my mom says storming in the kitchen, where I was eating breakfast, waving a black Metallica t-shirt with the sleeves cut off at me.
With the spoon half way up to my mouth and milk dripping into my bowl I say, “Nothing.”
“I found it in your backpack now go put it back in Dion’s room.” My mom says walking out of the kitchen leaving the shirt on the counter. I pick up the shirt and walk down the hall to my brother’s room open the door and look around. Dion’s room was filled with posters, drawings, ceramic skulls, metal wizards and dragon figures, guitars, books, and movies. I always saw something new each time I went into his room. I linger in the room for a second then I turn to his dresser and open the drawer and put the Metallica t-shirt back. I open the door hold my breath and look at Dion still sleeping. I watch for his chest to rise up and down from breathing or make a movement to make sure he is ok. He stirs around in his bed and I breathe a sigh of relief, shut the door from the other side, and grab my backpack.
“I’m ready to go mom I will be in the car.” I yell down the hall to my mother and walk outside to the car the air is cool and there is a slight breeze. I lean up against the car disappointed at my foiled plan to wear Dion’s Metallica shirt to school. I always snuck Dion's clothes out of his room and changed out of my pink jogging suit or some girly shirt my mom picked out for me that day and I put on a gremlins t-shirt or a button up shirt and roll the sleeves up just like Dion did.
“Dion is going to meet you right here after school I am working overtime tonight so I can’t pick you up.” My mom says pulling up to the front of Northwood Hills Elementary School.
“Ok see you tonight.” I say to my mom before shutting the car door and heading to class. Before I know it the bell is ringing to go home. I grab my stuff and walk out into the hall and out the exit of the school. I walk outside and look for Dion. There is still a slight breeze, but the sun is out I look up a little to let the sun hit my face and the light stings my eyes. I see all the other kids from kindergarten to fifth grade running to the buses, to there mommies and daddies or jumping on their bikes and taking of down the road all excited to go home. I was excited too, but I didn’t move with so much haste, which always used to annoy everyone in my family. I reach the front of the school look down the sidewalk and standing at the end was Dion. His hair shaggy and brown and he was wearing his usual attire that he threw on his short skinny frame, which was ripped faded jeans with big holes in both knees, a black heavy metal t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, a white thermal undershirt, clunky, white, high top sneakers, and dark sunglasses. As I walk up to him he takes one last drag of his cigarette and flicks it down the street with one graceful motion.
“Hey slowpoke! If we hurry we might make it home in time to catch Gumby.” He says encouraging me to pick up the pace. Dion being 16 years older than me is not just interested in all the kid's stuff for my benefit he enjoys them just as much as I do. A regular Peter Pan you might say, but besides watching cartoons I watch him draw, play guitar, work on model cars, or fix his own car. We walk down the street towards our apartments and got there in about the time it takes for him to smoke another cigarette.
“Hey Katie-bug do you want to skip cartoons today and got get a fighting fish?” Dion says to me just before we get to our apartment building.
“Ok.” I said. I was a child of few words. We walk through the apartment complex, through a gap in the fence behind the complex, across a grassy field and across the street to the pet store. When we get there we look at everything from fluffy little kittens to whiny puppies, big green lizards to shy baby turtles, loud squawking parrots to tiny chirping finches, soft hyper hamsters to fat furry guinea pigs, tons of yellow goldfish to an array of colored tropical fish, and finally the fighting fish. Dion wanted to get a beta which he called fighting fish because if you put them together with another beta they would fight to the death. I stand in front of the section where they keep the betas and look up at all the tiny fish bowls, each with a lone purple and blue beta, sitting so still with only their little fins waving about ever so slightly. We finally decide on a fighting fish and Dion picks up the bowl and takes it to the counter to purchase. I watch the man scoop the fish out of the bowl with a tiny green net and put it in a clear plastic bag with water in it and tie a knot in the top. The man hands Dion the bag with the fish and Dion hands it down to me. The man left just enough air in the bag for the fish to make it to it's new home. We walk out of the store and head back towards the apartment. We start talking about the fish and the other random things we talk about.
“Batman is not a superhero Dion he can’t even fly.” I say as we walk up to the street to cross to our apartments.
“He’s a detective with special gadgets. He fights villains and saves people just like all the other superheroes. You don’t have to have any special powers to be a superhero.” He said to me defensively because he was partial to Batman. I on the other hand am a big Superman fan even though everything I know about Superman I learned from Dion. He taught about comics, superheroes, and villains and now I knew enough to debate on who was the better superhero even though I was probably going to lose. Our conversation gets cut short just as we got to the field behind our apartment complex. Dion takes a step and his legs spring out from under him and he was suddenly on the ground. I look down at him my eyes wide with panic. My heart races as I freeze with fear not quite sure what to do.
“Go get help. I can’t get up.” Dion says to me from the grass snapping me out of my daze. With a sudden rush of responsibility I take of running, still holding the bag with the fish, through the field and squeeze between the fence posts into the back of our apartment complex. I fly down the parking lot, moving with more speed that I had in the 8 years of my life. I weave in between parked cars, through the courtyard, dodging kids on bikes, rushing through open patios, over abandoned toys and finally into our stairwell and up the stairs to our apartment. The whole time the fish is sloshing around in the plastic bag I hardly give it any thought instead I focus on the task at hand. I fling the door open and yell to my other brother Carlo to help.
“Carlo! Dion fell down in the field behind the apartments.” I say nearly out of breath not used to moving with so much haste.
“Stay here it’s probably his blood sugar.” Carlo says as he runs out the door and down the stairs. I look outside and the bright sun stings my eyes.
Headlights blind me from my rearview mirror, ripping me out of the past and right back into reality; it’s my step dad pulling into the driveway behind me. I step out of my car. It’s quiet outside almost as if the entire world is holding its breath right along with me. I hesitate a little in the driveway not sure I am ready to realize this moment. I have had so many nightmares about this very day. I barely remember driving to my mom’s house from my apartment because my mind wandered all the way here. The words of the phone call that started my trip here 15 minutes ago still ring in my head. I still haven’t processed the meaning yet. “He’s gone.” My mom cries into the phone her voice quivering. I walk up the driveway put my shaky hand on the doorknob take a deep breath and the door groans as I push it open. I walk around the fireplace to the living room then time stops, and I see him lying there where I left him just hours ago incoherent from the pain medications hospice care gave him for the pain. My mom on one side of the bed and my sister on the other each holding one of his hands. I look at his chest waiting for it to move up and down or for him to stir around in his bed. Nothing. As time stands still I let out a breath and I begin to process the words that are spinning around in my head. My heart sinks as I look at my mother and sister in tears and instantly my eyes well up with the tears that I had been choking on all the way here. I feel as if a thousand pounds just came crashing down on my chest. My big brother who was so full of energy now lays lifeless in the hospice bed. The same guy who would laugh hysterically at his own twisted jokes or who on Thanksgiving would get up from the table before getting seconds and jump up and down and say he was making room for more is gone. He only remains in my wonderful memories of him.
This was something I dreaded since I was that little girl on the field holding the fish watching Dion collapse from a diabetic episode. Dion had so many obstacles in his life kidney failure, kidney transplant, heart attacks, strokes, and car accidents but he always overcame them. I always hoped to have him around to say all the things I wanted to say to him hoping I would outgrow the aversion of opening my mouth and actually speaking more than two words, but even as a child I knew that his disease would possibly beat him one day. I would look at him while he slept to make sure he was still breathing always afraid of the day that I wouldn’t see him breathe. My biggest fear was realized that night because I knew my brother’s death would affect me and it did just as I suspected it would. I don't get to see him everyday and I regret every second of my life that I did not take the time to tell him how important he was to me. I believe my life without him changed me because I know I am the way that I am because of Dion. I know him better than I know my own father. Dion was the one who taught me to ride a bike, play guitar, draw, and he taught me about music, comics, and movies. All my interests as an adult have a tie in with him somehow and that is something that I am proud of. I know how horrible my brother's death was and how his being sick affected my childhood but it was his life that made my life worth living because I am a better person for having been raised by him.
I miss you Dion.
(I wrote this about 3 years ago and I didn't edit it I just posted it today in memory of my brother)
My knuckles are white as I clench the steering wheel. My hair, still wet from my shower, is dripping down my back and soaking my t-shirt. It’s just a little after midnight and there are just a few people on the road. The bright lights of oncoming traffic sting my eyes and my mind races instead of processing what has just happened. My thoughts wander as I approach my destination. All those moments, of terrifying nights worried about getting a late phone call with bad news, waking up from a bad dream or waiting at a neighbor's house because of a surprise visit to the hospital flash through my head. I can recall one day in particular and as my mind frantically refuses to accept what is really happening at this very moment and I begin to focus on that day in particular.
“What is this!” my mom says storming in the kitchen, where I was eating breakfast, waving a black Metallica t-shirt with the sleeves cut off at me.
With the spoon half way up to my mouth and milk dripping into my bowl I say, “Nothing.”
“I found it in your backpack now go put it back in Dion’s room.” My mom says walking out of the kitchen leaving the shirt on the counter. I pick up the shirt and walk down the hall to my brother’s room open the door and look around. Dion’s room was filled with posters, drawings, ceramic skulls, metal wizards and dragon figures, guitars, books, and movies. I always saw something new each time I went into his room. I linger in the room for a second then I turn to his dresser and open the drawer and put the Metallica t-shirt back. I open the door hold my breath and look at Dion still sleeping. I watch for his chest to rise up and down from breathing or make a movement to make sure he is ok. He stirs around in his bed and I breathe a sigh of relief, shut the door from the other side, and grab my backpack.
“I’m ready to go mom I will be in the car.” I yell down the hall to my mother and walk outside to the car the air is cool and there is a slight breeze. I lean up against the car disappointed at my foiled plan to wear Dion’s Metallica shirt to school. I always snuck Dion's clothes out of his room and changed out of my pink jogging suit or some girly shirt my mom picked out for me that day and I put on a gremlins t-shirt or a button up shirt and roll the sleeves up just like Dion did.
“Dion is going to meet you right here after school I am working overtime tonight so I can’t pick you up.” My mom says pulling up to the front of Northwood Hills Elementary School.
“Ok see you tonight.” I say to my mom before shutting the car door and heading to class. Before I know it the bell is ringing to go home. I grab my stuff and walk out into the hall and out the exit of the school. I walk outside and look for Dion. There is still a slight breeze, but the sun is out I look up a little to let the sun hit my face and the light stings my eyes. I see all the other kids from kindergarten to fifth grade running to the buses, to there mommies and daddies or jumping on their bikes and taking of down the road all excited to go home. I was excited too, but I didn’t move with so much haste, which always used to annoy everyone in my family. I reach the front of the school look down the sidewalk and standing at the end was Dion. His hair shaggy and brown and he was wearing his usual attire that he threw on his short skinny frame, which was ripped faded jeans with big holes in both knees, a black heavy metal t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, a white thermal undershirt, clunky, white, high top sneakers, and dark sunglasses. As I walk up to him he takes one last drag of his cigarette and flicks it down the street with one graceful motion.
“Hey slowpoke! If we hurry we might make it home in time to catch Gumby.” He says encouraging me to pick up the pace. Dion being 16 years older than me is not just interested in all the kid's stuff for my benefit he enjoys them just as much as I do. A regular Peter Pan you might say, but besides watching cartoons I watch him draw, play guitar, work on model cars, or fix his own car. We walk down the street towards our apartments and got there in about the time it takes for him to smoke another cigarette.
“Hey Katie-bug do you want to skip cartoons today and got get a fighting fish?” Dion says to me just before we get to our apartment building.
“Ok.” I said. I was a child of few words. We walk through the apartment complex, through a gap in the fence behind the complex, across a grassy field and across the street to the pet store. When we get there we look at everything from fluffy little kittens to whiny puppies, big green lizards to shy baby turtles, loud squawking parrots to tiny chirping finches, soft hyper hamsters to fat furry guinea pigs, tons of yellow goldfish to an array of colored tropical fish, and finally the fighting fish. Dion wanted to get a beta which he called fighting fish because if you put them together with another beta they would fight to the death. I stand in front of the section where they keep the betas and look up at all the tiny fish bowls, each with a lone purple and blue beta, sitting so still with only their little fins waving about ever so slightly. We finally decide on a fighting fish and Dion picks up the bowl and takes it to the counter to purchase. I watch the man scoop the fish out of the bowl with a tiny green net and put it in a clear plastic bag with water in it and tie a knot in the top. The man hands Dion the bag with the fish and Dion hands it down to me. The man left just enough air in the bag for the fish to make it to it's new home. We walk out of the store and head back towards the apartment. We start talking about the fish and the other random things we talk about.
“Batman is not a superhero Dion he can’t even fly.” I say as we walk up to the street to cross to our apartments.
“He’s a detective with special gadgets. He fights villains and saves people just like all the other superheroes. You don’t have to have any special powers to be a superhero.” He said to me defensively because he was partial to Batman. I on the other hand am a big Superman fan even though everything I know about Superman I learned from Dion. He taught about comics, superheroes, and villains and now I knew enough to debate on who was the better superhero even though I was probably going to lose. Our conversation gets cut short just as we got to the field behind our apartment complex. Dion takes a step and his legs spring out from under him and he was suddenly on the ground. I look down at him my eyes wide with panic. My heart races as I freeze with fear not quite sure what to do.
“Go get help. I can’t get up.” Dion says to me from the grass snapping me out of my daze. With a sudden rush of responsibility I take of running, still holding the bag with the fish, through the field and squeeze between the fence posts into the back of our apartment complex. I fly down the parking lot, moving with more speed that I had in the 8 years of my life. I weave in between parked cars, through the courtyard, dodging kids on bikes, rushing through open patios, over abandoned toys and finally into our stairwell and up the stairs to our apartment. The whole time the fish is sloshing around in the plastic bag I hardly give it any thought instead I focus on the task at hand. I fling the door open and yell to my other brother Carlo to help.
“Carlo! Dion fell down in the field behind the apartments.” I say nearly out of breath not used to moving with so much haste.
“Stay here it’s probably his blood sugar.” Carlo says as he runs out the door and down the stairs. I look outside and the bright sun stings my eyes.
Headlights blind me from my rearview mirror, ripping me out of the past and right back into reality; it’s my step dad pulling into the driveway behind me. I step out of my car. It’s quiet outside almost as if the entire world is holding its breath right along with me. I hesitate a little in the driveway not sure I am ready to realize this moment. I have had so many nightmares about this very day. I barely remember driving to my mom’s house from my apartment because my mind wandered all the way here. The words of the phone call that started my trip here 15 minutes ago still ring in my head. I still haven’t processed the meaning yet. “He’s gone.” My mom cries into the phone her voice quivering. I walk up the driveway put my shaky hand on the doorknob take a deep breath and the door groans as I push it open. I walk around the fireplace to the living room then time stops, and I see him lying there where I left him just hours ago incoherent from the pain medications hospice care gave him for the pain. My mom on one side of the bed and my sister on the other each holding one of his hands. I look at his chest waiting for it to move up and down or for him to stir around in his bed. Nothing. As time stands still I let out a breath and I begin to process the words that are spinning around in my head. My heart sinks as I look at my mother and sister in tears and instantly my eyes well up with the tears that I had been choking on all the way here. I feel as if a thousand pounds just came crashing down on my chest. My big brother who was so full of energy now lays lifeless in the hospice bed. The same guy who would laugh hysterically at his own twisted jokes or who on Thanksgiving would get up from the table before getting seconds and jump up and down and say he was making room for more is gone. He only remains in my wonderful memories of him.
This was something I dreaded since I was that little girl on the field holding the fish watching Dion collapse from a diabetic episode. Dion had so many obstacles in his life kidney failure, kidney transplant, heart attacks, strokes, and car accidents but he always overcame them. I always hoped to have him around to say all the things I wanted to say to him hoping I would outgrow the aversion of opening my mouth and actually speaking more than two words, but even as a child I knew that his disease would possibly beat him one day. I would look at him while he slept to make sure he was still breathing always afraid of the day that I wouldn’t see him breathe. My biggest fear was realized that night because I knew my brother’s death would affect me and it did just as I suspected it would. I don't get to see him everyday and I regret every second of my life that I did not take the time to tell him how important he was to me. I believe my life without him changed me because I know I am the way that I am because of Dion. I know him better than I know my own father. Dion was the one who taught me to ride a bike, play guitar, draw, and he taught me about music, comics, and movies. All my interests as an adult have a tie in with him somehow and that is something that I am proud of. I know how horrible my brother's death was and how his being sick affected my childhood but it was his life that made my life worth living because I am a better person for having been raised by him.
I miss you Dion.
(I wrote this about 3 years ago and I didn't edit it I just posted it today in memory of my brother)
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Smallvile Lois and Clark Music Videos
****Click on vids to take you to Youtube--the blog format cuts off half the vid
AAARRRGH!****
Edited by yours truly---Enjoy! Click on the vid to take you to youtube to comment/rate if you like or leave a comment here. Thanks
**No Copyright Infringement Intended ---For Entertainment Purposes Only***
AAARRRGH!****
Edited by yours truly---Enjoy! Click on the vid to take you to youtube to comment/rate if you like or leave a comment here. Thanks
**No Copyright Infringement Intended ---For Entertainment Purposes Only***
Friday, April 10, 2009
Mass Teabagging of Congress
This was the hardest I have laughed in days........
Insanitea is right......And I wondered what people were going to talk about once Bush left office.
Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy
Insanitea is right......And I wondered what people were going to talk about once Bush left office.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Invisible Monsters
Chuck Palahniuk is a genius. This is a quote from one of his books Invisible Monsters .(see avatar picture left.) I always felt that the people in our lives shape us so much. I've met some people that I thought were quite original, but I wondered that if I knew the people in their lives if I would feel the same way. I think I would start to see pieces of that person in all the people that surrounded them.(People they love people they admire people they hate) I will hear a joke and from one person and tell it to a different person and boom thats how it works. You hear a song in someones car and you look it up on itunes and suddenly you have a favorite new band. I don't think we all have sociopathic personalities hiding underneath our exterior, but I do believe there are some unconscious tendencies. Another quote from the book is "The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person." It's like the song love stinks but way more profound haha. I think that when you are not attached to a specific person this is true. I have seen it so much in my life. Someone loving someone so much but that person is married or in love with someone or devotes their life to their child or to God. I think that some people suffer with unrequited love because that's what they like about it. If the love was returned that person would just fall in love with someone else. I don't know maybe I'm a little bitter or jaded about love. I have seen people fall in and out of love with the same people over and over again but is it love? I mean real and true love or is it something else? I'm going to finish this blog with another quote from the same book tell me if you think this is true? "Almost all the time, you tell yourself you're loving somebody when you're just using them. This only looks like love."
Soul Pancake
So I stumbled upon this website called soul pancake. It's a very beautiful website co-created by Mr Rainn Wilson or maybe better known to some of you as Mr Dwight Schrute from The Office pictured left. I have been following him on Twitter and he puts up some of the questions and updates from the website. If you have a chance I would go check it out oh and of course follow him on twitter. I will post links on the my blog link section. One of the items to chew on that caught my eye was: list 5 things you would cut your pinky toe off for. Soooo after a bit of deliberation I have my list for you.
1. The choice of any career at whatever salary I choose.
2. The ability to be a gifted musician at whatever instrument I picked up.
3. To be an amazing artist with any medium.
4.To have my brother alive and well again.
5. And of course end world famine and disease.
So there it is my list. I know some of it may seem superficial to you , but if cutting of my pinky toe I would improve myself as a person on the inside I would do it. I am currently taking to long way to get to those first 3 goals by the way. The last two are just up to the fates.
Thanks for reading! Feel free to post yours here or at soul pancake.
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