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Amy
Waterside, hammock-swinging, enjoying mother nature while doing my best to improve up on it with a battery-operated bug-zapper.
A student of life, which I can only describe as living eagerly in search of the ridiculous and wonderfully spontaneous non-sense that happens consistently around us. And we take ourselves seriously.....Bah-haha!
Interests: Old station wagons, oxymorons, passing it forward, the Mind, the tides and dragonflies.
Recent Activity
I wonder what the point is. Why do I exist? What do I do each day that makes the next day worth doing? Loveless, childless, loveless, penniless, Burning Man-less. I've nothing to look forward to everyday except going to be that night. I love sleeping because it's wonderful comfort. it's as close to happy living as I get. I wna to sleeep all the time. There's no reason for the rest of it. Why I'm tied to this hell is beyond me. I've done something awful to be stuck in this hell and I wish I were dead. I wish I had the courage Brian had. I want to scream in the face of everyone I know to FUCKING HELP ME MAKE IT STOP OH GOD MAKE IT STOP THIS POINTLESS HELL GOING OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER. It will never stop. I've got miles left to go. Years and years and years of this have gone on and years and years and years and years and years and years and years and years and years left to go! God it won't end. Continue reading
I ask numerous questions about his condition, the detials about how he found out, what the side-effects are, the prognosis, and all the other information. I volunteer to help in any way I possibly can and begin to make suggestions on how I am going to begin assisting. Continue reading
I get a bit nervous that I have to get all this security on my computer and yet I'm supposed to feel all warm and fuzzy that my phone has the capacity to keep all my banking information on the DL.
The non-sequitur of aging: As I walked into the familiar halls of the nursing home basement, I felt it settle around me like an old pair of shoes. My steps moved that much quicker and I rather expected the squelching sound of half-unglued sneaker soles regurgitating pureed cheese sandwiches to mingle with the music of the walk-in refrigerator and the protesting purge of the Hobart dishwasher as I neared the kitchen. I entered through the pan room, where industrial sized pots were stacked on huge sheles lining the walls,when a familiar voice completed the effect. Sue approached me as I was nearing the "no-whites, no-enter" threshold and asked if she could help me."Sue," I said, by way of jogging her memory. "Yes?" she resonded as a slow darkening of her features began to register, "What the hell do you want,already?" I stared at her, the bitch in me refusing to let her off the hook of a few seconds of an uncomfortable situation, before recognition set in. Not much had changed, and maybe that's why I got so "wowed" by it: A woman in her early 20's named Dawn had started there years after I had. She was loud, obese, opinionated, two-faced, rude and hilarious. A couple years after she started, she got pregnant by her no-count intensely on/intensely off again boyfriend and they decided to get married. It was a civil, backyard service when she was about 7 months along. During her maternity leave, she stopped in with the baby, Nathan. He was humunous! If I remember correctly, he'd been born somewhere in the 9 or 10 pound range, and even at two months, he was the size of some toddlers. She offerred to let me hold him and (because I was a teenager and felt entitled to say exactly what came to mind), I said, "Jeez, Dawn, he's a little young for you to already be letting him smoke." I mean, the kid just reeked of cigarettes...no baby-powder, no poopie diaper, no sweet baby smell, just a pack-a-day of Newports. I wondered what his life was going to be like. At the old Nursing Home today, Sue mentioned that Dawn still worked there, but now as a CNA. Then she said that Nate worked in the kitchen now. Me: "Huh?? He does??" I started there two weeks before my 16th birthday. I remember exactly, because I5 wasn't old enough to operate the dish machine yet, so I trained and cleaned. Now, this giant cigarette-smoking baby had my old job. What a world! What a world! Continue reading
We are so litiginous, yet aren't we setting ourselves up for more ludicrous measures because we are sued behind the failure of the bus monitor to bend all the way down on her hands and knees, examine that no children have climbed up under the chasiss of the bus because they saw that on some movie (which is now no longer being aired because it clearly encourages children to pull some Indania-Jones-type stunts, like such) without using her Maglite flashlight (powered not by Enegizer batteries (because that bunny with the cymbals is a poor role-model), with Duracell batteries, but with a special issue flashlight with a plastic lens, because last month a 13 year-old lost an eye when a broken piece of glass from the old flashlights hit him while he was strapping himself to the big, yellow, swing-out gate to block the oncoming lane of traffic as a gag? Continue reading
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