home of the enslaved and cowardly

To the curious ones, Mommy is well. She says her health is returning, steadily I hope. Otherwise, I have been reassured by Mommy and friends that all will be well. I don't want to get too ahead of myself, but I am starting to feel better as well. Hopefully, this is a one time occurence. Until the next disaster, let's dance. Not in the shall we dance? manner. Like the dancelikenooneiswatching kind. Remember when we were little and had dance parties to the Mickey Club music. Yes, would anyone like to join me in a dance?

As I have learned from this morning, when someone experiences an anxiety attack, all of their fears are physically expressed by their body. Anxiety attacks are pretty high up on the list of things children never wish to see their parents experience, along with crying and fighting. Something pulls their young heartstrings and causes quivering chins and teary eyes. In such a weakened state, their parents may accidentally let slip all their fears and unfinished tasks, which, to the child, equals I'm dying and I won't be able to take care of you. Especially when this happens to your seventeen year-old self, just as you are about to go to school, you forget that you are almost an adult. Instead, you wish that mommy will come back and tell you that she's fine and make the big bads go away. Like she always did. Like she always does. In the end though, you realize that you have to respond to the EMT and take care of younger siblings. And you just wish to be taken to the Sixth Stati...

Since it has been raining nonstop, I have regained my appreciation for puddles. For my grouchy, angsty, hormonal classmates puddles mean wet sneakers and drenched jeans. Perhaps it is because of my stress-free(read: college application-free) life, but I have started to find joy in the petite pools of delight in my school parking lot. Grab a pair of galoshes and I'll see you at the puddle of the rainbow's end!

Because every once in a while, I am reduced to a blubbering mess of oversensitivity. I wish I could put this song in my pocket and carry it around as a amulet/medallion. I know the song is mostly about the girl he pines after, there is some attitude in it that I wish I had. Plus, I'm pretty sure we all need to say fuck you on our worser days. So, here's to those who deserve a good fuck you.

An old tale in a new year. For this past Christmas, I received a single white envelope from my father. Although I wasn't expecting much from this underachiever, I nearly pissed myself from laughing after I opened the envelope. Inside was a card that said "Merry Christmas" and a scratch-off lotto card. Niiice. My younger brother also received one, worth $49,000 more than mine. Not to mention, he actually won some money. Does this merit a FML? Thanks Dad. Cheers.