She’s just sad, she says.
Just quite possibly I relate.
That’s part of the aftermath, I suppose.
Getting off the
Ride and wondering
If life will always be boring compared
To what we remember about it.
So, I was having a discussion with my driver’s ed teacher over my recent write-off of inadequate internal organs. I mean, she’s known me since seventh grade, seen me go through treatment once, so she at least acts like she’s fairy interested. So, the decree was there’s a living will of sorts, and I told her this, that if my sister or any of my immediate family needed organs, for whatever reason, in the event that I die they could still harvest mine. If they aren’t fully well-done by then.
But that was the point of the conversation, was my doctor specifically used the term ‘medium-rare,’ Dick. And as soon as I say that in the event of, say, my sister needing a kidney she could still take mine my DE teacher interrupts and shouts,
“Well, a family that cooks together, stays together!”
That cured cancer a little bit. I’m gonna remember that for the rest of my life.
See now, remember that part about me being too poor to publish shit? Well, I’m still working on that whole publishing thing, but I figured a little sneak peek can’t hurt anyone, correct? Get a little early notoriety. I’m not a terrible writer.
“Your fly’s not zipped up,” Kevin looked down in panic, then smacked me in the ass with the side of his Topsider, the laces undone. He glared at me, all red-faced, then gave me this little pouty, nervous look. We stood smack in front of Melanie’s grave, the lovely minister (ministress?) beside us. I’d seen her around town before, just kept forgetting her name. Brunette, maybe in her thirties. She has kids if I remember right. Two.
“She didn’t skip out on me, did she?” Kevin asked worriedly, his voice low and tense. “She wouldn’t do that. Right? That wouldn’t make sense? Should I be worried?” I rolled my eyes. Drama queen. He starts biting his nail absently.
“Thea hasn’t started the music, moron. Everything’s fine. You’re leaving this graveyard married if I have to drag her out by her ankles.”
“But that’s how we get her back home anyways.” He reasoned.
“I am going to pretend I can’t hear you boys.” The ministress says not-so-quietly, sniggering. We agreed five days prior to pay her in smuggled beer and a free night at the local hotel, courtesy of Mikel and Dani. We were broke beyond broke in our early adulthood.
“You got it, ma’am.” We nodded. I heard the cadence start through my crappy $0.99 speakers twenty feet away, and Kevin perked up, his eyes wet.
“Here we go.” I whisper up at him, and he beams.
Just got the paperwork in the mail that I am NOT ‘legally blind’ by the standards of the DMV (I wasn’t before), but my eye doctor took his sweet goddamn time filling out the paperwork for it, and I technically coulda gotten my permit three months ago. Plus I’m still waiting on my birth certificate BS (mine got lost when our basement flooded), and for the handicap sticker my stupid oncology clinic is making me get. I only had it under my dad’s name because I was going through treatment, frankly, I don’t want a personal one, but they keep telling me I’ll want it one of these days. And given my history, it isn’t like the DMV wouldn’t validate it.
Plus, recently found out I’m labeled INELIGIBLE to be an organ donor! I mean, I know some people turn it down because it makes them uncomfortable, but now I’m kinda bummed just ‘cuz I can’t. I was talking to my Onc team, and given all the radiation and chemo and whatnot, they don’t know what organs are medium-rare by now and what aren’t, so we are going to stick with keeping those to myself. It’s better than trying to donate them and having them cause further damage to someone else, I suppose. They said, however, that if it were something like my sister needed a kidney, then she could have mine potentially, but to keep it in the family. Keep the radiation in the family. A family that cooks together stays together 😉
Oddly enough they still want me to be a blood donor. I mean, it makes sense, I’m O+. I was donating when I was little right before surgeries, just in case things went south. Something about how they process donations before they’re distributed, and how new bodies accept them, makes it safer. That and I don’t have AIDS.
So I’m scared there are
No more trains home, but you’re just
Walking to pass time
A friend of mine asked me once (just bringing this up because I took my meds too early and now I can’t sleep) to sum my life up in song lyrics. Not whole songs, just little snippets here and there.
“There ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe, I’m on the dark side of the road” (I’ll be disappointed in America for not knowing that one)
“And you’d dance around in your t-shirt and sing Don’t you love Modest Mouse and adore Promise Ring? Don’t you wish that you could just avoid everything? Join a band, go on tour, and think of me when you sing?” (Duet- The Airborne Toxic Event)
“Honey if you stay, I’ll be forgiving. Nothing you can say can stop me going home,” (Famous Last Words, My Chemical Romance)
My Chemical Romance put it perfectly.
I mean, being one, I can neither really defend nor be terribly shocked, but high school is weird. Was high school always this weird? Was it weirder ten years ago? I’m lost, man.
Anyway, point of the personal conversation. One day at lunch, teenagers happened to be scaring the particular shit out of me. And the administration walking by. We were discussing my funeral plans. This was about six months before I was re-diagnosed. So I was simply having a bipolaroid moment. Subsequently, the group of them were.
With many of these stories I have, it’s like with the game Clue, I have The Usual Suspects. And, of course, there was my ex, before he was my ex before we were dating (which means this was before he said two words a day to me, so we were on good terms).
– That casket has to be purple (I’m slightly colorblind from the radiation, just to shades, so browns bother me. Yes, I care about this postmortem)
– Funeral procession (WTF) dressed as grim reapers
– My friend Matt has to work into the eulogy us going Black Friday shopping dressed as drag queens
– They want me to buried in my blue dress that makes my boobs look good
– Their after party has to feature MCR’s “Cancer” (Naturally, right?)
– No Jesus-y sermon shit- I’m atheist. Not happening.
-Violet violets, not fucking blue!
– No crying. Absolutely no effing crying. Unless you were sad I was alive, do not cry. Or get out. I’ll haunt you.
This was released onto the Inter-webs of sound mind for better or worse. Names were not mentioned to protect the semi-innocent. If you tried hard enough, you could track the others down.
This was the story of everyone’s lives at the brain tumor camp I went to over the summer.
Wait, A has no correlation to B. The fact that it was a brain tumor camp is just a specific focus group, and unfortunately we are all horny teenagers, which was blindingly horrific whether we wanted it to be or not.
I totally wasn’t a participant of any of that gosh darn thomasfoolery, I tell you.
You just try to always
Take it as dumb
Fate when our
Song doesn’t play
But if we were held
Together by words as such
We’d have been done
Long before now
That’s why music came before words and you,
You’re the loud first
Beat of the kick drum
And I your faithful second
I know you long to be the violins, dear
The ones everyone comes to hear
I don’t think I’d
Have come to heard
A violin, so soft
Wrong word, so constant
You change and stay the same all at once
And we both do
You and I will always be
The back-and-forth beat
And the crashing last keys
And love I'm still wondering if any of it should mean a thing
It was quite interesting today. See, a guy in my Creative Writing class (run by the aforementioned Mr. K) was talking to me in class and he just casually slipped into his train of sentence that I looked pretty today.
Awww……why can’t I have these things recorded? Now Mr. K’s mad at me because I’m not supposed to be flirting with the help. He actually came up to me at the beginning of the year and told me repeatedly that I was not allowed to become romantically involved with anyone in his class for purely his sake. Our previous year together we all shared the class with my ex and I and, well….West Side Story kind of happened. Yikes.
So, to present matters, Current Cute Boy also put the word ‘menagerie’ into a sentence, and I am a firm believer from now on that if such can be done then he needs to be rewarded.
I better ask him what he wants as prize 😉
“Love many, trust few, always paddle your own canoe”
Well, see dear it’s
Not quite all that simple
I’m afraid all this
Holding back and
We hurt each other
We may very well hate each other
But we’re unfortunately not in a good state to get rid of one another
So we hold back, we do
It’s all we do
All we ever did
Why we never were in the first place
If we ever were
It was decided, as I was reminded a few minutes ago, that seven months ago today the decision was made that my first published book of poetry would be titled, “Reasons Why I’m Never Going To Safeway Ever Again.”
Now let me explain why.
I’d gone into this Safeway with Kathleen and my sister back last March getting stuff for her cooking class- and now that I honestly process it, it was the guys’ night class, so we were buying beer and chips and shit. Looked like I was throwing a party, I guess. And I AM cute, goshdarnit. Maybe I set myself up for this shit. But I had gone in on my own, and the only people that seemed to be there were these three black guys working there, I guess they could’ve been seniors in high school. But I swear, they were all brothers, it was so weird. So I start going around the store before I realize ONE OF THEM’S FUCKING FOLLOWING ME! I mean legitimately just cruising along behind me, like just doing my job here, ma’am!
Finally Kathleen comes in with my sister and I’m standing near the deli counter (Kathleen didn’t even need to ask), and I was talking to the sweet lady at the counter and ANOTHER ONE OF THE LITTLE WEIRDOES COMES UP AND STARTS HITTING ON ME! Holy shit, it was scary! And it wasn’t just casually throwing out that I was pretty here and there, it was, let me invade your space, give you my hours, totally freak you out, okay? Make you distrust men for the rest of time, okay?
The grand finale was absolutely when we were checking out and the last of the the little pigs offered to walk me and the shit to the car. Like, I have had enough of you people.
I bought a rape whistle on the way home, for hell’s sake.
Finally got into the ER at Children’s around 3. They didnt have the equipmen to do a fucking MRI, so they just kinda went with their graces that I WOULD BE RIGHT I just needed my little plumbing situation tweaked with. TAKE A WILD GUESS WHO WAS RIGHT ANXD WHO STILL HAS A MIGRAINE!!!!!!
I am aware I said I wanted to be an oncologist. Mostly so mine can be FIRED!