It's hard to feel sad when you listen to "Mr. Blue Sky", even if you've had a shitty, horrible, no-good, very-bad day. Have you have read this book?
One of my favorites as a small child, and my old copy from when I was three sits on Liv's bookshelf now. It's one of those cute stories that's supposed to help children put things in perspective. Like, "Hey, I know this bad thing seems big and terrible now, but it's not so bad when you have days like this" or "You know, at the end of the day, you look back and realize it wasn't so big after all" type of thing. A lot of books along those lines for adults SUCK. I just want to put that out there. They're either condescending, sappy, depressing, dull, tasteless, or just completely unhelpful in any way. Everyone once in a while you find that rare book that makes you laugh your way through the shit, or think your way out of the dark; those books are special and I find that you should actually endeavor to NOT share them with people close to you. Personally, the things I find uplifting seem to lose their luster when I hold them out for someone else to scrutinize. Like the blog Hyperbole and a Half. Allie is hilarious. I love her writing and her doodles. My mother thinks I'm weird and doesn't get them. The only one she liked was the one about the dogs when they were moving from Montana to Oregon, and mostly only because they sort of remind her of her dog and mine. I would like to say right now that my dog is NOT retarded or exceptionally stupid, she's just incredibly timid at times. My dog recognizes her own name and knows how to climb stairs. She doesn't eat her own vomit.
Moving on, now that I've grossed myself out thinking about dog vomit...
Today a baby that stopped growing and living three weeks ago was discovered in my uterus. I wasn't surprised. I was still sad, just not shocked in any sense of the word. I knew it as soon as I saw it on the screen. I've gotten fairly adept at making out things on ultrasounds by now. Neither my mother nor I could fail to notice the weird stuff on my left ovary, either. Then I found up feeling worse for my poor mother, who sobbed and clung to me like a child for a few minutes, and I wound up having to comfort her instead. Kind of helped, really. It's nice to not have to think about why you should be feeling sad. We spent a few hours getting food, driving around in the sunshine admiring flowers, playing with the dogs, taking Liv to splash in a creek in her rain boots. It was at this point that I had to fish her out when she fell on her bum and couldn't get back up because the dogs perceived she was in apparently mortal danger and made themselves useful by crowding over her and knocking her down more. My 45 pound five year-old didn't really have much of a chance against my mother's 110-pound German shepherd/rottweiler mix. Thrown in our small 50 pound lab/malinois mix, and she reeked of dog all the way home.
Still, for Liv it was a good day. She got a waffle for breakfast, special lunch with her aunt and uncle, followed by a cookie treat, then a day out with her gram and the dogs, followed by pizza for dinner because her parents were too tired and wrung out to make real food. Uncle Zack also gave her a stick of rock candy she's probably dreaming about eating tomorrow right now.
As I sat in bed eating churros (I don't normally recommend doing that), I wondered what I was going to do with life. I feel like I've been on pause for a year or so now; pretty much since I graduated from college. I wonder if Damion feels that way, too? It's hard not to feel like you're stuck in limbo when you're not really going forward in any sense of the phrase. Once Damion graduated, I figured we could have kid numero dos and then after that maybe I'd try to get into grad school. Pam was pretty adamant that I should do so, and even Danny drunkenly harangued me about going once when he'd had too much gin. I'd like to teach college creative writing, maybe work on a literary mag, something. I'm not afraid to criticize people, I like getting people to work together, and writing is fun. Plus every time I think about not bothering, I feel Pam beating me 'round the head and shoulders with whatever came readily to hand and shouting at me. She liked to do that, hit me with things and then tell me I was smart. Danny did it with words; cutting, stinging words. When a person looks up to role models like that, it's small wonder they wind up confused and conflicted.
We're going to run a bunch of tests, see what keeps going wrong with the whole baby-making deal, go through the motions of getting ready to eventually have another kid. If we change our minds, it's easier to switch from that to hard-core pregnancy prevention than the other way around. Plus there's apparently cancer risks involved if I'm not monitored carefully and a bunch of other crap that I'm only halfway paying attention to, on the principle that a person can only take so much getting freaked the fuck out before they just sort of switch off and hope that trusting people who make their living from sticking sharp things into other human beings will take care of them doesn't turn out to be a bad idea.
I've really discovered an odd love for Electric Light Orchestra as I've gotten older. I figure as long as I don't started getting really into REO Speedwagon or Styx, I should be fine. ELO is a lot of fun to sing a long with; I'm also contemplating getting voice lessons so that I can feel justified singing all I damn please whenever I like. My husband doesn't like my singing voice; other people seem to like it, so maybe if I can smooth out my rough areas, I will no longer feel as self-conscious about singing where other people can hear me.
Once upon a time, days like today would have put me so far down into depression that I'd thought my whole world was ending. I have had days like today before. Well, not with churros. Usually churro days are good days. I like churros. But days with bad ultrasound results, I seem to have gotten used to. Somehow, today I'm just taking it as just another thing I have to get over in order to keep on living.
Man, that sounds corny. But days like today allow for a certain amount of sappy personal reaffirmation.
Even in Australia.
One of my favorites as a small child, and my old copy from when I was three sits on Liv's bookshelf now. It's one of those cute stories that's supposed to help children put things in perspective. Like, "Hey, I know this bad thing seems big and terrible now, but it's not so bad when you have days like this" or "You know, at the end of the day, you look back and realize it wasn't so big after all" type of thing. A lot of books along those lines for adults SUCK. I just want to put that out there. They're either condescending, sappy, depressing, dull, tasteless, or just completely unhelpful in any way. Everyone once in a while you find that rare book that makes you laugh your way through the shit, or think your way out of the dark; those books are special and I find that you should actually endeavor to NOT share them with people close to you. Personally, the things I find uplifting seem to lose their luster when I hold them out for someone else to scrutinize. Like the blog Hyperbole and a Half. Allie is hilarious. I love her writing and her doodles. My mother thinks I'm weird and doesn't get them. The only one she liked was the one about the dogs when they were moving from Montana to Oregon, and mostly only because they sort of remind her of her dog and mine. I would like to say right now that my dog is NOT retarded or exceptionally stupid, she's just incredibly timid at times. My dog recognizes her own name and knows how to climb stairs. She doesn't eat her own vomit.
Moving on, now that I've grossed myself out thinking about dog vomit...
Today a baby that stopped growing and living three weeks ago was discovered in my uterus. I wasn't surprised. I was still sad, just not shocked in any sense of the word. I knew it as soon as I saw it on the screen. I've gotten fairly adept at making out things on ultrasounds by now. Neither my mother nor I could fail to notice the weird stuff on my left ovary, either. Then I found up feeling worse for my poor mother, who sobbed and clung to me like a child for a few minutes, and I wound up having to comfort her instead. Kind of helped, really. It's nice to not have to think about why you should be feeling sad. We spent a few hours getting food, driving around in the sunshine admiring flowers, playing with the dogs, taking Liv to splash in a creek in her rain boots. It was at this point that I had to fish her out when she fell on her bum and couldn't get back up because the dogs perceived she was in apparently mortal danger and made themselves useful by crowding over her and knocking her down more. My 45 pound five year-old didn't really have much of a chance against my mother's 110-pound German shepherd/rottweiler mix. Thrown in our small 50 pound lab/malinois mix, and she reeked of dog all the way home.
Still, for Liv it was a good day. She got a waffle for breakfast, special lunch with her aunt and uncle, followed by a cookie treat, then a day out with her gram and the dogs, followed by pizza for dinner because her parents were too tired and wrung out to make real food. Uncle Zack also gave her a stick of rock candy she's probably dreaming about eating tomorrow right now.
As I sat in bed eating churros (I don't normally recommend doing that), I wondered what I was going to do with life. I feel like I've been on pause for a year or so now; pretty much since I graduated from college. I wonder if Damion feels that way, too? It's hard not to feel like you're stuck in limbo when you're not really going forward in any sense of the phrase. Once Damion graduated, I figured we could have kid numero dos and then after that maybe I'd try to get into grad school. Pam was pretty adamant that I should do so, and even Danny drunkenly harangued me about going once when he'd had too much gin. I'd like to teach college creative writing, maybe work on a literary mag, something. I'm not afraid to criticize people, I like getting people to work together, and writing is fun. Plus every time I think about not bothering, I feel Pam beating me 'round the head and shoulders with whatever came readily to hand and shouting at me. She liked to do that, hit me with things and then tell me I was smart. Danny did it with words; cutting, stinging words. When a person looks up to role models like that, it's small wonder they wind up confused and conflicted.
We're going to run a bunch of tests, see what keeps going wrong with the whole baby-making deal, go through the motions of getting ready to eventually have another kid. If we change our minds, it's easier to switch from that to hard-core pregnancy prevention than the other way around. Plus there's apparently cancer risks involved if I'm not monitored carefully and a bunch of other crap that I'm only halfway paying attention to, on the principle that a person can only take so much getting freaked the fuck out before they just sort of switch off and hope that trusting people who make their living from sticking sharp things into other human beings will take care of them doesn't turn out to be a bad idea.
I've really discovered an odd love for Electric Light Orchestra as I've gotten older. I figure as long as I don't started getting really into REO Speedwagon or Styx, I should be fine. ELO is a lot of fun to sing a long with; I'm also contemplating getting voice lessons so that I can feel justified singing all I damn please whenever I like. My husband doesn't like my singing voice; other people seem to like it, so maybe if I can smooth out my rough areas, I will no longer feel as self-conscious about singing where other people can hear me.
Once upon a time, days like today would have put me so far down into depression that I'd thought my whole world was ending. I have had days like today before. Well, not with churros. Usually churro days are good days. I like churros. But days with bad ultrasound results, I seem to have gotten used to. Somehow, today I'm just taking it as just another thing I have to get over in order to keep on living.
Man, that sounds corny. But days like today allow for a certain amount of sappy personal reaffirmation.
Even in Australia.
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