The Death of Mary Sue Sunshine
Alright, well maybe not. Maybe just the short-term coma of Mary Sue Sunshine. I needs me some cryin'.
I'm nervous about this cross country trip. What happens if I get in a wreck and am unconscious? What happens if I'm abducted by hill folk in Virginia (House of 1000 Corpses has scarred me for LIFE)? How am I gonna pay dad back? What if I run out of gas in the desert? How the fuck am I gonna get everything packed by monday?
My sister joined the Army. I cannot begin to describe how frightening this is for me. She turned 19 two days ago, while in basic training. She's getting yelled at by mean people RIGHT NOW. But they're just being mean to prepare her. To prepare her for getting shot at. By people who really really don't like us. And okay, she's not going to be a grunt, or whatever. She's going to be part of a MedEvac unit (That guy screaming 'MEDIC!!' when his buddy's bleeding out will be yelling for her). She'll be in a chopper with GUNS ON IT, which are necessary, because people will be shooting at them. And they'll be shooting back. The medics will be shooting at people. Name the things that are wrong with that sentence. Okay, listen, I've always been vaguely anti-war. I don't like it. It's horrifying and wrong. I know this. It has never before hit me in such a way as this. Because now my baby sister, my very favorite person in the whole wide world, is going to be out there getting shot at and shooting at other human beings. It's just so wrong. And I spent her birthday crying, or trying not to cry, and thinking about how I'll never see her again, or what I'll say at her funeral, or what I'll tell my kids about Aunt Hannah and how she died heroically. This is how my stupid brain works. And I know that with the sheer number of troops over there, her odds of dying are pretty low. It's just paranoia. But it's not really paranoia if they really are trying to kill you, is it?
Natalie (that's my older sister, I don't write about her often) is very, very sick. She has lupus, which is an auto-immune disease. Her body is attacking itself. She takes tons of meds. We'd be royally screwed if she weren't on a government program, because her medication costs upward of five thousand a month. She's been on chemo. Two summers ago, she had a grand mal seizure behind the wheel of her car and got into a major accident. Her wrists, chest, right eye socket, nose, jaw, and fingers all had to be reconstructed. She spends a lot of her time in a wheelchair. Her meds/sitting in a wheelchair has caused her to gain weight like crazy. The worst part? I don't care. I can't care. I cannot bring myself to care about this horrible, horrible person. She's a bad person. I almost never say that, because I'm a firm believer that almost everybody can be a decent human being when given the chance, but... she is a bad person. She sent me to the hospital when I was a kid, destroyed most of the trust I've ever had in people, shredded any self-confidence I had, and now maintains that she was an amazing big sister. It's taken years of being out of contact with her, and I'm slooowly starting to gain back my self-confidence. She's dying slowly, and I cannot bring myself to care. She could die tomorrow and I would cry. I would cry and weep and wail, not for the loss of a sister, but for the loss of years of potential, for the loss of happiness in my family, the loss of my childhood. I would cry tears of shamed relief. Because what kind of sick person would be happy about a sister's death? That is not the person I want to be. It's NOT, but I can't seem to help myself.
I think I might be in love with Steve. This might be surprising to you all, because I've mentioned him like, once, but he's present in my existence more than he seems to be. But the love thing. I don't know. It's incredibly disconcerting. I don't want to be. Not because of Steve, though. He's an amazing guy. If I ever fall in love with anyone, I'd want it to be him. It's just... what if I fuck it up? I am not the best-equipped to love. I don't trust people, and I have commitment issues, which is STUPID, but if you'd had my childhood/parents, you would too. People don't like me when they've known me for a long time. My friends end up hating me. Always.
I don't think I could take being in love with someone and have him end up hating me. I have no idea how I would deal with that. Deal with it I would, though, because that's what I do, but the point is I DON'T WANT TO. I don't NEED that kind of pain. I don't. So, what? I see where it goes? I get slammed with whatever pain comes with this whole thing when it goes bad? Or I don't even start, miss out on something potentially amazing, but miss out on the pain, too? How do you choose?
Alright, so I put on this 'Fuck you, assholes, if you don't like me it doesn't bug me because of your complete insignificance' act, but clearly I care. I mean, does anyone actually enjoy being disliked? Dude, fuck disliked, I'm actually Loathed here. I had this really horrid conversation on the radio today. Here it is, verbatim.
Stacey: Radio Check
Me: Check, you're comin' in fine.
Me: Hey, did you get the ice depth? (I'd done the ice augering and had left a message for her about the depth, because she's at the part of camp across the lake, the info needs to get posted, but it's blizzarding so we didn't drive there.)
Stacey: No.
Me: Oh. The ice is 15.5" thick.
Stacey: Is someone driving over to post it?
Me: No, it's snowing way too hard, we didn't want to risk driving.
Stacey: Well, did *someone* want to ask me to write it down?
Me in My Head: FUCK YOU YOU STUPID WHORE.
Me Out Loud, only slightly sarcastically and very very chirpy: Stacey, would you please post the ice safety report at HideAWay for me? I'd really appreciate it Thanks! *turns off radio*
I mean, what the fuck is that? Who the fuck DOES that? That hurts, okay? Clearly, I am giving her the information, she's 'in charge' over there, so obviously I want her to post it. She pulls this shit All the fucking time. And hey, I'm leaving in TWO DAYS NOW, and they can't let up just a bit? This morning, there was a complaint on the whiteboard in our residence that two of the staff couldn't clean the toilets because there were no rags, which is my job. We get job checked on Friday mornings. Alright, first, I got rags on Tuesday, so if they ran out that fast, someone could've said something to me about it, and I would've GLADLY gone and got more. Second, don't blame me for not doing your job. How come your jobs still aren't done right now, even though I got more rags about, oh, 13 hours ago? Hmmm? Oh, right, it's because you're all assholes. I know, it doesn't matter, I'm leaving in two days, but they're just so mean. And I know it doesn't sound so bad, but it's about six million more things just like that. It's ridiculous.
I don't like people not liking me. It's stupid, I know. There are always going to be people who don't like me, that's how life is. Let me be more specific. I don't like people not ACTIVELY not liking me. And being douchey about it. I'm done with that shit. It hurts, I don't like it.
I know that my life is pretty okay. I know this. I know that there are a lot of people who are way worse off than me. I KNOW. But you know, the things that make me sad, and make me want to cry are pretty big things. I'm not whining because my car didn't get detailed, or I couldn't find the shoes I wanted, ya know? Anyway.
That's all.
I know it's quite a lot. Sorries. But hey, if you guys think you've got something that'll cheer me up, then by all means, cheer away.
I'm nervous about this cross country trip. What happens if I get in a wreck and am unconscious? What happens if I'm abducted by hill folk in Virginia (House of 1000 Corpses has scarred me for LIFE)? How am I gonna pay dad back? What if I run out of gas in the desert? How the fuck am I gonna get everything packed by monday?
My sister joined the Army. I cannot begin to describe how frightening this is for me. She turned 19 two days ago, while in basic training. She's getting yelled at by mean people RIGHT NOW. But they're just being mean to prepare her. To prepare her for getting shot at. By people who really really don't like us. And okay, she's not going to be a grunt, or whatever. She's going to be part of a MedEvac unit (That guy screaming 'MEDIC!!' when his buddy's bleeding out will be yelling for her). She'll be in a chopper with GUNS ON IT, which are necessary, because people will be shooting at them. And they'll be shooting back. The medics will be shooting at people. Name the things that are wrong with that sentence. Okay, listen, I've always been vaguely anti-war. I don't like it. It's horrifying and wrong. I know this. It has never before hit me in such a way as this. Because now my baby sister, my very favorite person in the whole wide world, is going to be out there getting shot at and shooting at other human beings. It's just so wrong. And I spent her birthday crying, or trying not to cry, and thinking about how I'll never see her again, or what I'll say at her funeral, or what I'll tell my kids about Aunt Hannah and how she died heroically. This is how my stupid brain works. And I know that with the sheer number of troops over there, her odds of dying are pretty low. It's just paranoia. But it's not really paranoia if they really are trying to kill you, is it?
Natalie (that's my older sister, I don't write about her often) is very, very sick. She has lupus, which is an auto-immune disease. Her body is attacking itself. She takes tons of meds. We'd be royally screwed if she weren't on a government program, because her medication costs upward of five thousand a month. She's been on chemo. Two summers ago, she had a grand mal seizure behind the wheel of her car and got into a major accident. Her wrists, chest, right eye socket, nose, jaw, and fingers all had to be reconstructed. She spends a lot of her time in a wheelchair. Her meds/sitting in a wheelchair has caused her to gain weight like crazy. The worst part? I don't care. I can't care. I cannot bring myself to care about this horrible, horrible person. She's a bad person. I almost never say that, because I'm a firm believer that almost everybody can be a decent human being when given the chance, but... she is a bad person. She sent me to the hospital when I was a kid, destroyed most of the trust I've ever had in people, shredded any self-confidence I had, and now maintains that she was an amazing big sister. It's taken years of being out of contact with her, and I'm slooowly starting to gain back my self-confidence. She's dying slowly, and I cannot bring myself to care. She could die tomorrow and I would cry. I would cry and weep and wail, not for the loss of a sister, but for the loss of years of potential, for the loss of happiness in my family, the loss of my childhood. I would cry tears of shamed relief. Because what kind of sick person would be happy about a sister's death? That is not the person I want to be. It's NOT, but I can't seem to help myself.
I think I might be in love with Steve. This might be surprising to you all, because I've mentioned him like, once, but he's present in my existence more than he seems to be. But the love thing. I don't know. It's incredibly disconcerting. I don't want to be. Not because of Steve, though. He's an amazing guy. If I ever fall in love with anyone, I'd want it to be him. It's just... what if I fuck it up? I am not the best-equipped to love. I don't trust people, and I have commitment issues, which is STUPID, but if you'd had my childhood/parents, you would too. People don't like me when they've known me for a long time. My friends end up hating me. Always.
I don't think I could take being in love with someone and have him end up hating me. I have no idea how I would deal with that. Deal with it I would, though, because that's what I do, but the point is I DON'T WANT TO. I don't NEED that kind of pain. I don't. So, what? I see where it goes? I get slammed with whatever pain comes with this whole thing when it goes bad? Or I don't even start, miss out on something potentially amazing, but miss out on the pain, too? How do you choose?
Alright, so I put on this 'Fuck you, assholes, if you don't like me it doesn't bug me because of your complete insignificance' act, but clearly I care. I mean, does anyone actually enjoy being disliked? Dude, fuck disliked, I'm actually Loathed here. I had this really horrid conversation on the radio today. Here it is, verbatim.
Stacey: Radio Check
Me: Check, you're comin' in fine.
Me: Hey, did you get the ice depth? (I'd done the ice augering and had left a message for her about the depth, because she's at the part of camp across the lake, the info needs to get posted, but it's blizzarding so we didn't drive there.)
Stacey: No.
Me: Oh. The ice is 15.5" thick.
Stacey: Is someone driving over to post it?
Me: No, it's snowing way too hard, we didn't want to risk driving.
Stacey: Well, did *someone* want to ask me to write it down?
Me in My Head: FUCK YOU YOU STUPID WHORE.
Me Out Loud, only slightly sarcastically and very very chirpy: Stacey, would you please post the ice safety report at HideAWay for me? I'd really appreciate it Thanks! *turns off radio*
I mean, what the fuck is that? Who the fuck DOES that? That hurts, okay? Clearly, I am giving her the information, she's 'in charge' over there, so obviously I want her to post it. She pulls this shit All the fucking time. And hey, I'm leaving in TWO DAYS NOW, and they can't let up just a bit? This morning, there was a complaint on the whiteboard in our residence that two of the staff couldn't clean the toilets because there were no rags, which is my job. We get job checked on Friday mornings. Alright, first, I got rags on Tuesday, so if they ran out that fast, someone could've said something to me about it, and I would've GLADLY gone and got more. Second, don't blame me for not doing your job. How come your jobs still aren't done right now, even though I got more rags about, oh, 13 hours ago? Hmmm? Oh, right, it's because you're all assholes. I know, it doesn't matter, I'm leaving in two days, but they're just so mean. And I know it doesn't sound so bad, but it's about six million more things just like that. It's ridiculous.
I don't like people not liking me. It's stupid, I know. There are always going to be people who don't like me, that's how life is. Let me be more specific. I don't like people not ACTIVELY not liking me. And being douchey about it. I'm done with that shit. It hurts, I don't like it.
I know that my life is pretty okay. I know this. I know that there are a lot of people who are way worse off than me. I KNOW. But you know, the things that make me sad, and make me want to cry are pretty big things. I'm not whining because my car didn't get detailed, or I couldn't find the shoes I wanted, ya know? Anyway.
That's all.
I know it's quite a lot. Sorries. But hey, if you guys think you've got something that'll cheer me up, then by all means, cheer away.