BRBcoffee

Heyo dear reader!

I am speedposting. In 50-ish minutes I have an exam, and I am way early at the exam locale. So I blog.

What’s going on? Well, 9 years ago, Bush got his big boy underwear on and decided to invade Afghanistan (without consent from the UN, mind you). To find some dirty terrorist or sumtan’. 9 years later, we are left with this:

The situation in Afghanistan have never been worse. The new, “friendly” government has passed a law allowing men to rape their wifes if they don’t get sex regularly. Also, women can’t leave their homes without consent from their husbands. Wtf?

Also, the Taliban (whom the international forces are trying to kill off), are growing steadily. Estimates by an american General had them at about 36 000 in early 2010, as to about 11 000 in 2008. Wow!

Also, more civilians die every year. According to the UN, 2100 died in 2008, 2400 died in 2009, and over 1200 died the first half of 2010. Some say this is heading towards the bloodiest year of the war.

Comeon guise, this war isn’t working. Like the star of some dirty off-broadway porn, we need to pull out!

So how am I celebrating this day? Well, my exam, which as of writing this is about 45 minutes away (see how time moves forward when blogging?), is for a course called “An introduction to the USA”. Oh, sweet irony.

Peace out, succas

I’m sick of opening this web page and the first thing I see being that depressing, way-too-serious blog of mine, so I have decided to write a new one!

Now, now, what to write about…

Hm…

I should’ve thought this one through a little better…

Oh! I can write about the strange happening that occurred this day. Some of you may already know of it (cough, Michael, cough), but most probably do not. It all started with me deciding to mow the front yard as a kind gesture to my mother. I went outside in my mowing finest (AKA gross pants/shirt combo with awesome grass-stained shoes) and started to pull the mower out of the garage when, all of a sudden, this man- late-20’s, good looking- comes a-walkin’ up the driveway. I was a little, no- A LOT- wary at first because that kind of thing just doesn’t happen where I live. Turns out, his car had broken down on his way to a city nearby and he needed some gas money. He’d been wandering around my neighborhood for two hours with no luck. Of course, he didn’t just outright ask for a donation on my part, he offered to work for it. So, I told him he could mow the front yard for me and I’d pay him $10. He was happy to do it and so I went inside and, as any rational person would do, ran around and locked all the doors and then watched him suspiciously as he completed the task.

{On a side note, I should add that before he started mowing he asked me if I wanted him to mow in any particular pattern, as in diagonal lines or whatever. I responded with a, “No, it doesn’t matter,” to which he then responded, “Oh alright, I didn’t want to upset your husband or anything.” Despite my intense urge to laugh hysterically, I decided it would be a good idea to let him believe that I was a married woman. I figured he’d probably be less likely to kill and/or rape me if he knew I was married. Why I thought that, I do not know. Another thought that passed through my mind was, “Hey, if he does decide to rape me, at least he’s hot.”}

Anyways, he finished the job, I paid him, and he went on his merry way. I guess he really was a decent person who just needed some gas money. I felt kinda bad for the guy. I mean, he’s stranded in a city fondly known as Spokompton (Note: Spokompton = a play on words combining Spokane and Compton. Additional note: Compton is basically the most hardcore, dangerous, gang-filled city on the West Coast.) and has no idea how to get enough money to get the hell out. I hope he somehow managed to find some help and eventually gets home okay.

And that was my story of the day. My song of the day is “No One’s Gonna Love You” by Band of Horses. It’s pretty much my song of the past month, actually. Ya’ll should listen to it:

We are the ever-living ghost of what once was.

Question: What is the correct course of action when dealing with a family member/close friend who loses their mind?

I bring this up because I know we all have that one relative who goes off the deep end and our families deal with it in one way or another. So what is the right way? Keep them at home and waste away a non-insane person’s life in trying to take care of them? Or should we ship ’em off to an institution where they can be heavily medicated and kept away from the rest of society, only to be forgotten until they die of pneumonia or old age? This kind of situation is a messy one that always has painful consequences.

I, myself, have a second or third cousin who has been clinically insane for most of my conscious life. I hardly have any memories of her when she was at her prime. I have stories from my family of how much she loved family get-together’s and how incredibly generous she was- and I will say that I do have very faint memories of receiving and enjoying holiday-themed boxes full of gifts and treats- but that all ended before I was aware of what had been lost.

She is now, as of less than a week ago, gone from this world. Although it’s debatable as to when she mentally vacated the earthly plane, her physical departure is now official. I won’t pretend to accept your words of sympathy or condolence because, honestly, I don’t deserve them. I haven’t shed a single tear for her because I didn’t really know her. I never saw her after she went to the mental hospital in a city I can’t even remember. I never sent her a card or made an effort to check up on her. I’ve been told that she forgot everybody she knew and couldn’t really speak coherently, but what if somewhere deep inside she did remember? What if underneath the hideousness of Alzheimer’s and dementia, she really did know that her family had deserted her? And then I tell myself that she probably wouldn’t want us to see her in that condition and I am comforted- momentarily, until I then remember that I never even tried to figure it out! And now the first tears come forth in the realization that I, that we as a family, didn’t do enough and there’s no way to fix it. There’s nothing else to do. Why do lessons like this ALWAYS come too late?

Her birthday was coming up this very next week.

I don’t even know what her age would have been.

It’s about time!

So, I definitely haven’t posted anything since school began. It’s okay, though because I’m so excruciatingly busy that I have excuses for anything.

If it helps, I definitely cry myself to sleep about every night. It’s actually my favorite thing about my day because the rest of it is hell.

I’m overwhelmed.

No, really. I’m overwhelmed. Screw my life and most of the people in it.

In other news, I’ve been trying to decide on a future! And, going nowhere, I’ve given up and have decided to just.. not worry. So let’s see how long that works. Maybe I wont cry myself to sleep for awhile becaucse of this. You know, until I remember that I can’t just ignore my future.

P.S. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

So I know I promised you something political, or motivated by a good book or music or something for my second post. And the emotions leading to this post was motivated by, or has spurred me into, the making and listening to the list of music you will find at the end of it. Question being (as in High Fidelity by Nick Hornby, also my favourite book and author!)  did the music compell us to listen because we were having a miserable time, or did the musicians create the music because of their having a shitty time as well.

I will, of course, believe the last one: Artists in pain will make painfully beautiful music. Or paintings. Or books. Or poems. Or general art.

There is a sentence we hear all the time, and that I remind myself of way too often, which sounds “Better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved.”  Or as a smart guy said to me, earlier this evening: “Without all the pain you’re feeling from having emotions, how would you have known you were alive?”

And it’s true. Unfortunately. Feelings make us realize how alive we really are. Life is more than birth-school-[Metallica-]work-death. And that, my dear friends, is feelings. We have way more than our social standings, our GPAs, our careers and our funerals and final wills to think about. The big feelings. Love, hate, apathy [which I guess isn’t a feeling, only lack of feelings, but we’re all there at some point…], friendship, family and ideologies. And also the smaller feelings. Happiness, pain, disappointment, contempt, meanings and familiarity being examples.

This week I have had all kinds of feelings, and it’s weird. Fear of the unknown, expectations for the unplanned, happiness for the unexpected, and disappointment for the unwanted.

And the only thing on my mind right now is “Better to have tried and failed, than to not having tried…”

xkcd will always explain everything better than me, and I do feel that this is an accurate description.

Yours truly, fully and completely,
Frida

(Musical references/influences for this contribution:
Kut U Up
Deep Blue Something
Postal Service)

(Playlist made along with this contribution:
Just one of those things-or something)