Life is Surreal…

almost twenty years ago, i lost my friend mike. i should really say “we lost” because it is incredible the amount of people this man, boy really, not even old enough to be called a man, had such a profound effect on. to this day, people still think about him every day and i know this because there is a facebook group dedicated to his memory. the page has not only helped him live on, but has brought all these people together for support and love and a whole lot of laughing.

today is a hard day for me, but much harder on other members of of my family whom i love and care about dearly. but instead of continuing to be a drama queen on facebook, i thought i’d bring it over here in more of a creative non fiction way. as that is one of the reasons why i created this blog in the first place–for me writing is a release (thank you for the much needed reminder, geo).

an aunt i am very close to is lying in a hospital right now and things do not look good at all. by that, i mean i am really just waiting for the final word. not that i don’t have hope that the call will come and say that there’s been a change and things will be fine. maybe that call will come. i have to believe it will for everyone’s sake, mostly  my mom’s.

but whenever someone i love is at this stage of their life, i always think about mike. and i ask him to greet the person and help them get where they need to be. so today i have been talking to mike a lot and it reminded me of a poem, i guess you could call it, that i wrote for him years ago.

i am not sure it was all coincidence that he visited me in a dream the other night. he was bouncing around smiling like always. in my dream i knew he wasn’t really there, partly because he kept fading out and fading in with different outfits, one of which was this plastic st. patty’s day hat, another of which a purple derby helmet. but for whatever reason he was there and in whatever outfit, it all felt very comforting.

so in another attempt to bring all my work from associated content over here in a way that doesn’t seem totally random, i wanted to share this piece of writing. it seems very appropriate for today and whatever comes next.

To Mike.

I’ve been thinking about you.

You have?

Yeah, I do a lot. Not always, but sometimes.

So why now?

Well, I just got in touch with Jon. Can you believe it? After 12 years, I’m chatting with Jon. Well, e-mailing at least. Well, he hasn’t written since his first note, but I’m sure he’ll turn up. It’s been 12 years.

I know it. He’s done well for himself, no? I’ve been watching him.

Yeah, apparently so. But I always knew he would. But I thought he was going to be a doctor.

Nah – he just couldn’t give up the music biz.

Yeah. And still around Pat too. I thought for sure Pat was with you. You know, when I have had to take care of my pets, I always tell them that you’ll take care of them. I imagine you being chased around by my dog Astra.

Is that the shepherd who keeps running after me and biting my butt?

Is she? I knew she’d make me proud! You know, Mike, I must have been there. I must have been at NYU studying or something and didn’t even know.

No, why would you?

I mean, it was a day like any other for me.

And it started out as such for me.

You know, I only remember some things about you.

Yeah – what?

Um – you screwed me out of my Jr. prom. Your hair. Some sweater. Not the color or anything, more the texture. Your house. The day you carried me to my car cause I was too drunk to walk myself. Oh my god. I drove home that night. I work with a girl now who went to school with you. She said you were nice.

I was nice.

Yeah, but you were a jackass too. I was so mad at you. I think I even said that I wished you were dead…

Those were just words.

Mike, I tried to hurt you the second time around.

I know.

I wished bad things for you.

Not really, you were just hurt.

I have never wished bad things for anyone since.

I know, I’ve kept an eye on you.

Have you? Have you heard me talking to you?

Yeah, especially in your car. Why do you always talk to me in your car? I don’t think I ever even drove with you. By the way, let’s talk about your singing…

I don’t know. I think a lot in my car. I should probably pay more attention to the road.

Yes – that wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Sometimes when I’m scared, I talk to you.

I know.

I feel closer to you than I think we really were.

I’m glad you think of me.

Know what I remember?

Tell me.

My graduation night. Todd’s apartment. You came in just as “It’s the end of the world as we know it” came on. You bounced all over the room, singing every single word. Then you left.

I remember that. I love that song.

I can’t hear it without thinking of you.

It’s a good song to be associated with. That Michael Stipe is a-okay. Must be the name.

Oh, Mike, I’m so so sorry.

About what? You have nothing to be sorry for.

About everything. What I did. What I thought…what happened.

Don’t be sorry, G-, it’s all good. But I have to go now.

Okay. So this time I’m going to say goodbye, Mike.

No-this time it’s not goodbye. Just keep thinking of me and talking to me. I’ll be watching over.

this was originally published in 2008 in my now defunct (see a pattern?) but still available online associated content column. i had forgotten i had written it until i went back to look for some more material that could 1) be transfered to here and cosequently forced upon a whole new bunch of readers and 2) allow me to look like i’m being creative tonight when i’m really kind of just staring blindly at the tv…not that there is anything wrong with that. but for whatever the reason, this piece still cracks me up and has me shaking my head at myself and making that tsk tsk sound. you know the one. if you don’t, check yourself, you will probably be making it as you read the following:

Social Me: My Experience on a Facebook Rating Community

First let me say I’m a very happily married woman. But I’ll admit I’ve done this so you don’t have to.

So yesterday while taking a break from what was on my desk, I noticed that a friend had social’ed me as crazy through a Facebook application. Indeed he has known me long enough to make that assessment, but I wanted to know what that was all about.

So I sign right into Facebook and the add the Social Me application and I put up what I think is an artsy photo of me. Okay it’s a rating community, but I think it’s just for friends and I’m fine with that. Fun. And I hardly ever go on Facebook, so whatever. But I check back and see that someone has rated me. A stranger. And then more and more. And these suckers are coming like every minute so I’m totally obsessed with checking back and I’m getting absolutely no work done. And I’m getting all angry when some ridiculous guy rates me as ridiculous or silly or nerdy (even if I am all of those things). And I’m finding myself wanting to write back to them with some stinging insult. In fact, I did write back to one guy who rated me as drunk. Drunk? My response was a bit impulsive but all I said was that I was sober but exhausted, not drunk, rather than the four-page note i really wanted to type up about how I had had one of the worse nights of my life the night before and who was he…and his mother dresses him funny…you get it. After that I replaced my artsy photo with one of me and my husband. One that my friends have said I look pretty hot in. And a ton of the new ratings appear (they are coming in so fast) and people start rating me as happy. Not hot. Not sexy. Not gorgeous. Not cute or even cool. Also not ridiculous and silly, but not the point. And then the kiss of death: smart.

Smart and happy. Well, yeah, I’m smart and happy. But isn’t the point of these rating communities to tell you how hot and sexy you are? So once again I’m the pretty girl’s (not even cute) smart and happyfriend. And then I keep checking because it’s 5:45, I’m still at work, I’m exhausted from manuscript issues, and really just want the ego boost. (You know you all do it for the ego boost. Perhaps not always, but it may happen once. You don’t have to admit it. I’ll do that for you-this is the only rating community I’ve ever been a part of. And even then, unknowingly. Not that I removed the app when I discovered what it really was. No, you see how I handled that.)

In the end I deleted that app. Mostly because I felt a little silly (even without some goober telling me that) and also because I totally yelled at my husband when I found out he was on one a few weeks back so now I felt like a hypocrite. Mostly for the first reason.

That said, I am not in any way asking for you all to leave me comments on just how cute and hot and sexy I am. I’m not. Not in any way. Not one bit. Nope.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

okay, let’s try this again. to totally requote my own lis take two:

this is the reincarnation of life is surreal. this time around, it’s just me chatting, rambling, ranting, typing whatever i feel like.

this blog is about life as i see it.

i hope you’ll join me in any discussion, no matter how irreverent. and i do promise a whole lot of my blogs will be completely irreverent. but it’s fun. or at least i have fun. and really it’s my blog so that’s what matters. 

so come along now and jump right in because remember,

life is surreal…life is art

and always a work in progress

there is a little bit of a disclaimer, or maybe it’s an epilogue that i want to include here. that’s that in the time that i haven’t been writing, i’ve been working on getting a teaching certificate, which i finally have. woot! yay me! anyhow, the way that has any effect on you (unless you are a school that wants to hire me) is that my writing here may be a bit more tame than what you may have seen from my previous alter-ego akasha13131. while akasha lives on deep inside of me and often comes out, just not so publicly on the internet, mrs. b is now a big part of me as well. so somewhere in between neurotic opinionated goth girl and neurotic opinionated english teacher is me and the revamped life is surreal. (see what i did there? i used the word vamp? you know, like vampire? how goth! told ya akasha isn’t dead–that joke writes itself so i’ll just leave it at that.)

although who knows. maybe some day i’ll lock this up and have the reading availability subscription only. and then i’ll know all of the three people who actually read it. okay, maybe six, but three of them will be coerced (sorry, mom, dad, and hubby). i don’t know. i’m pretty much an open book anyway and have become somehow pg13 so i don’t have too many worries about this being public. and it’s not like my outspokeness has caused me any problems in the past…

yeah, well, anyhow, if  i don’t drive you totally crazy (like i care, it’s my blog, see above quote), please continue to read my examiner articles. i’ve even put the link right on this page so you don’t have to even make any real effort to check it out–in case like me, motivation is not always your strong suit.

so there you have it. um…welcome.

woot.

another oldie from the first site. a conversation between me and a friend regarding my obsession with playing the sims, which was short-lived as i have the attention span of a 2 year old.

me: i’m going home to play the sims and make my own people.

friend: have fun playing god!

me: i made a goth girl with the hair i want. and a flat stomach. but i still don’t understand the game.

friend: playing god…that’s the game.

me: well you know how you said god hates you? i’m thinking maybe he doesn’t hate you at all—he’s just confused about which buttons he should be pushing on the controller.