A Day In the Life

"Why do I have to go?" The pleading in her voice made my guts feel as if they were weighted with lead.
"Because we can't take care of you like we used to." I give her another spoonful of pureed chicken and dumplings purposely not making eye contact. My hand is trembling a little, but I don't think she notices.
"You can take care of me. All of you can. You have been. I'll be very quiet." She continues looking at me, eyes that were once mirthful now full of pain and misty with tears. I look at her, her tiny face weathered with the long years of her life, the toothless mouth that had once smiled freely was now puckered into a frown of worry.
"You know we can't. With that hip of yours, your doctor says you need to go someplace more well equipped to deal with your needs." I feel sick as I say it, thinking of every television show, news program or anything else my mind can conjure that reminds me how terrible nursing homes are. I wish I could convince her it wasn't my choice, that I'm just her house staff, that I fought for her to stay. Corporate saw her as a liability, I saw her as a person I had helped live for the last three and a half years. Corporate won.
"Will they be mean to me?" she whispers as I help her get a drink of water through a sippy cup. It's funny how we start off as children, and if we live to old age, we revert back to that. I dab her chin with a napkin.
"They had better not be since we'll be visiting every week." I mean it when I say it, but how long before my words are just so much hot air?
"I'm scared Crit." A tear slips down her cheek. I wipe it away with another napkin. I have no idea what to say, so I just take her hand and give it a squeeze. I think of what old age will be like for me. I'm scared too.

Linda Blair, You Had It Right!

There are times that I wish I could possess people.
I'm not talking Linda Blair, exorcist, spitting pea soup and jamming my who-ha with a crucifix kind of possession but something a little more subtle.
I wish I could possess my friends and loved one's when I think they're acting like asses, when they vote republican or they admit to watching shows like The Bachelor.
Better yet, I wish I could possess them when I feel like they are being taken advantage of. I wish I could take over their bodies and senses and defend them against threats like cheating lovers with lips dripping with sweet and enticing promises. I wish I could say for them the things that their hearts and their fears of being alone and damn near thirty prevent them from saying.
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

I spent the better part of the day lending a sympathetic ear to the lamentations (said in true Conan the Barbarian fashion) of a friend of mine who I just know could be happy if she could let go of her sinking ship ex-boyfriend that she keeps hoping will somehow change after 34 years of being an ass. She cried. She stomped her feet. She tugged her hair all because she hoped for the best in another human being and was sorely disappointed.
A vivacious, beautiful, opinionated sass-mouth of a woman becomes a ooey, gooey, invertebrate at the sight of a man who has stolen her time, her money, the majority of her 20's, and her ability to trust with her whole heart. The heart is a cruel, twisted mistress.
She seemed equally dumbfounded at her inability to tell him to fuck off and die (one of her favorite expressions during equally stressful situations). It was while I listened to her relive all of the negatives of 5 years with Mr. I Suck, that I had the notion of wishing I could possess her, drive to his house and not only curse him out, but say all of the things she was afraid to say for fear of burning bridges with a schlomo since she was nearing thirty, and by Kentucky standards, an old maid. I wanted to see his face when he realized she wasn't going to keep waiting around and that he couldn't keep using her as the old stand by. I wanted to use her hand to smack him in the face, literally and figuratively, with all of the resentment, anger and hurt that she's been carrying around for the last year.
While she continued venting, I was a bad friend and drifted off in my own thoughts a bit thinking about all of the other friends I would like to help out through Critty possession. My bestie who has lingered around a lying, slick talking jerk-off who won't even give her the satisfaction of being his "girlfriend" after 2 years of his demanding, egotistical, self absorbed buffoonery even though it obviously hurts her to keep herself open without any promise of a future commitment. Another friend who is scared to talk to men period, needs someone to take over who isn't petrified of social interaction. Come on lady, you have boobies, use their power!
Fear.
Fear.
Fear.
I'm scared of clowns, spiders, heights and the thought of someone grabbing my foot from underneath my car at night and had always kind of berated myself for it. Looking at the lives of others, however, I take pride in my ability to communicate effectively with others, including my romantic partner. I don't let fear of someone getting mad at me keep me from saying what is on my mind. I think this comes from my willingness to be myself. I have no facade to maintain, no painted face to keep from cracking, no lie to keep weaving to hold someone close. If you love me, it's really me you love and not some idea that I've invented to draw you in. It isn't until now that I realize how amazing a feat is just to be your unfiltered, unprocessed, chemically un-altered self.

I will keep lending an ear, hoping that my honest opinion remains good enough for those around me. Hell, maybe it'll rub off.




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Now playing: Helen Stellar - Io
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Now playing: Sia - I'm In Here (Piano/Vocal Version)
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My Mom is the Bee's Knee's

It's Mother's Day and since my own life giver is out on the open roads heading towards TN and farther away than I can go on the day before I go back to work, I thought I would yammer on about her here.
My Mom is awesome and here's why:

1.) She encouraged me to read horror stories. When I was 10 years old she noticed me poking through some of her Stephen King novels for something to do while my sister perfected her New Kids on the Block dance routine and asked me if I knew they were mostly scary stories. My cheeky reply was "Couldn't be any scarier than what Sis is doing." I left with "Christine" tucked under my arm.
This also extended into my writing interests. When writing a short story for the young authors program at school (does anyone else remember that?) she didn't even blink when I proposed my story "Prom Night of Doom:Rise of the Zombies". She proof read it, commended me and nodded knowingly when I won first place for my classroom.

2.) She never expected me to be perfect, but did expect me to live up to my potential. She never placed any pressure for me to be a doctor, a lawyer, or an Indian chief (thank God, cause I am way too pale!) She let me explore my interests, offered advice when she saw me struggle and let me find the path that best suited the life I hoped for.

3.) She sings, dances and laughs daily. So, if your standing near me and I suddenly break out into song, you can thank her for your headache.

4.) She taught me that love knows no color, creed or limits in a town FILLED with small minded individuals.

5.) She taught me that a woman is her husbands partner but that doesn't mean she's a deaf mute. She also taught me how to call bullshit on anything I found suspect.

6.) She is 62 years old and still dresses up for Halloween (see above photo). She also has an elf costume that she breaks out for Christmas Day. Is that cute or what?

I love my Mom for so many other reasons. It's every little sacrifice she made while I was growing. It was for every extra thing she did for me that made me want to excel. I had one helluva a childhood and I have her to thank for every good memory, every lesson learned, my zeal for life, my love for people, all of the good in me is a reflection of the fantastic in her.




My mother and sister. Cute!






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Now playing: Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Hysteric
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Now playing: Deftones - Prince
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Now playing: Lady GaGa - Alejandro
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Now playing: Reba McEntire - If I Were a Boy
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Now playing: Reba McEntire - If I Were a Boy
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Now playing: Dommin - My Heart, Your Hands
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It's Me Again, Blogger

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's an incredibly sporadic blogger!

I'm going to give this a go again, in spite of my recent (and unannounced, sorry about that) sabbatical from the world of online autobiographing (and yes, I did just make that word up). I had lost all desire to write in my free time when I have to do so much of it for my classes (although professionally, I don't get to make up cool words like I do here) but have decided that I've missed all of you wankers enough to make another debut.
I just returned from a business trip that enabled me to visit FL and Disneyland for free, which was a pretty sweet deal. Yeah, I had to push around a 75 year old man in a wheelchair for 8 hours in Sea World, but I got the best ice cream of my entire existence, was able to witness PETA in full on battle mode since I was there the day after the killer whale lived up to it's name (killer, not Tilli, that's kinda weak) and had my picture taken with some kid dressed up like Mickey Mouse. *=-)
How are all of you?
I've missed your shennanigans. I can't wait to peek in on your blogs. I'm such a voyeur.



Avast maties! I'm standing in front of the Tili tank. No one was allowed to be any closer than that.




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Now playing: Florence + The Machine - Between Two Lungs
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Now playing: Florence + The Machine - My Boy Builds Coffins
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The Unoriginal Halloween Costume Shoppe

The Unoriginal Halloween Costume Shoppe - watch more funny videos

Halloween is only 10 days away, and to celebrate, I've called into work today (hooooray!)so that I can finish up some homework. I have about 5 different "haunted houses" I want to visit this weekend, so I needed some time to finish up some absolutely necessary assignments for my Comparative Politics class. Boo for writing a case study about why Afghanistan is struggling to establish itself as a democracy (I think it's excessive to ask for 5 pages when it can be aptly summed up by saying "Religious intolerance+archaic belief systems=me hate you long time")
So, instead of doing what I had set out to do (homework) I'm uploading funny Halloween related video's to Blogger and Facebook. God bless you technology!
So enjoy.
P.S.
I apologize for the video if your dressing as a slutty *insert anything here* or the Balloon Boy (or perhaps a slutty version of the Balloon Boy!) Actually, no I'm not. I despise the slutty costumes. Dressing up began as a way to deter spirits from inhabiting your body and wearing a slutty nurse outfit is just asking to go all Exorcist and shit. Actually....I suppose it could be viewed as a form of natural selection. Hmmmmmm.....

I'm Really Just This Damned Nosey

What a week.
So far I've had to sit at the hospital with a very ill client that I have had the pleasure of assisting for the last 3 years. She has downs syndrome and for those of you familiar with downs, you know that generally people with that diagnosis are always happy, hungry and horny (kind of like my husband on Thanksgiving day I suppose...hmm...I wonder). It's been really hard to watch someone usually so vital fight for her life for reasons I can't (damn you HIPPA!) discuss but am infuriated over. That's not the reason I'm posting, but I thought I would just sort of set the tone for what this post is going to be like. So no references to farting (although I can say the lady in the bed next to my clients seems to be pooping on herself every 5 seconds with a smell so foul you would think you were in a bathroom at a worlds hottest chili convention) , music or any other stuff that I typically like to drone on about.
This is a "I'm sitting in the hospital taking a break from studying" kind of post.

I'm sitting here in the waiting room, since my company wants each client to have an employee with them to advocate if need be while they are in the hospital, watching a plethora of people dealing with sickness, grief, frustration and despair. No I'm not in Disneyland, I'm at UK.
Needless to say, I don't like hospitals (anyone who does is crazzzzzzzy), but I can't help but get wrapped up in the lives of the people that mill in and out during the course of the 8 hours I'm here (even though I really should studying for the 2 gynormous midterms I have tomorrow morning).
So many sad stories...and astounding one's. It's kind of watching an episode of House without the quirky wise cracking doctor (that is my make believe boyfriend much like Jules make believe boyfriend on the Daily Show). So far I've heard the story of a man who has recovered from pneumonia only to be told he has to have open heart surgery (that he will likely not survive) because of the extreme amount of blockage they found.
I've heard the story of a lady who came here with a knee fracture only to be told that she has a blood clot blocking the entire left side of her heart and fluid gathering in her lungs.
Does anyone who goes to the hospital ever get treated for what they came for? I liken it to taking your car to a garage to explore why you have difficulty closing the trunk only to be told by the mechanic that your engine is crapped out and it'll have to replaced. That's just so...life.
So I sit here, vigilant, and perhaps more nosey than I should be. The others in the waiting room are now watching some sort of old regular baptist church program complete with banjo's and voices that can't quite carry a tune. Time to check on my client and her family.
Send positive energy her way if you have any to spare. She's my lil buddy and I don't know if I could stick with this job if she doesn't make it.







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Now playing: Brandi Carlile - Before It Breaks
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Critty Is A Rolling Stone

In one hour I will be at Rupp Arena watching Kings of Leon and their fiery sex light up the stage. Needless to say, I'm stoked.
October is my favorite month out of the year. There are tons of festivals/carnivals/freak shows, live concerts, and the opportunity to wear really cute little jackets and hats without running the risk of heat stroke.
My husband bought a new digital camera for moi. I wanted something a little less technical than my film SLR (which I still adore but admit that it isn't as convenient as digital photography) so he purchased the Nikon L100. It's pretty darned spiffy and I'm looking forward to snapping a few pics of tonight's show to test the 24 optical zoom.
I love live music. Although I prefer shows in a smaller venue (think 1,000 capacity) there's something to be said about being one of the masses at a concert like I'm going to tonight (I think 20,000). The energy of being around so many other people who "get" the kind of music you rock to, well, it's downright refreshing. Sure, it sucks to pay fucking $20 for one beer and wait 30 minutes to release that beer back into the circle of life (or pee it out if your crude), but for some reason I love it (concerts, not pissing in dirty, overstuffed bathrooms). *=-P
I hope everyone's weekend is fantastic!


UPDATE: The show was FANTASTIC! I really enjoyed White Lies, the opening act, which sounded like a really good cross between U2, The Cure and AFI. Even though my right heel is KILLING me (I swear I wore flats...but I guess they were just a little TOO flat) and chose not to drink anything except water during last nights show, I had such a good time dancing and singing along with my girl KC. She came up with a jewel of a quote as we were listening to "Revelry" when she said "I bet he's a vegan. He sounds like a vegan." He was quite thin, as you'll see in the pics I'm posting, so she might be right (although I'm unsure why this thought occurred when it did. So random!)
I would highly recommend catching a KOL show if they come to your neck of the woods. It's well worth the $45.
Here are some pics.



























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Now playing: Kings of Leon - Be Somebody
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