Before you know it, you're the crazy cat lady in the scary house

Such Is Life

January 14, 2004 ... 10:13 p.m.

[watching AFI's �Silver and Cold� video]

Mom: �And you like that one?�
Eibisch: �That�s Davey. I like Jade--that one.�
Mom: *sadly* �Oh, Eibisch ... sometimes I question your sanity.�

Today has been one of those days. Again. You know--one of those days where nothing really bad happens, but nothing goes right either?

Woke up this morning, stumbled out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom. I don�t know if my brain was still asleep or what, but I was stumbling around and felt totally out of balance all morning.

Anyway, once in the bathroom, I broke the toilet paper dispenser. Knocked the thing right off the wall. In the process, I split my thumbnail down to the cuticle.

The fun never stops, I tell you.

So, I went to get a band-aid (Veggie-Tales! Woo! I�m a dork!) from my bathroom closet. The door on said closet is one of those bi-fold thingys. Opened it. Did not stand back far enough. Opened right into my nose--blood all over. I pushed the door shut, just kind of an involuntary reaction, and caught two fingers in the middle part of the door. Broke both those nails, but not as bad as the thumb.

Also, I have a black eye from the door.

And a good morning to you, too!

There was a whole series of breakfast mishaps, including milk I could chew, but ... ugh.

Forget breakfast. I opened my can of Coke--because I am not a good pill swallower and, as takers of it know, prednisone starts dissolving right away and leaves godawful aftertaste and I have found soda/pop helps minimize this--and it spews everywhere. In my haste to avoid carbonated beverage in my good eye, I jerked sideway ... and sendt my already uncapped pill bottles everywhere. Prednisone ... Imuran ... little pinky-peachy and yellow pills all over.

THEN, as I�m getting dressed, I lose my socks. AS I�m dressing. They just disappeared. *POOF* Socks go bye-bye. I don�t know how. I don�t know where. But they were my only clean pair, because our new washer doesn�t arrive until Friday.

I have two dozen Hawaiian shirts and, like, 3 pairs of socks. I don�t understand me, either.

No socks + January in Iowa + mangled fingers + sore nose + black eye + apparent inner ear problems = cranky--CRANKY--Eibisch

That was all before 8 a.m. The rest of my day has been just like it. When you have a day like this, it�s like you just can�t get out from under it. Tomorrow should be better.

It�s official. 2004 is kicking my butt. Grr.

I�ll be taking some CLEP tests next week. CLEP enables me/anyone to test out of a subject (for a fee) and earn credit. I won�t get an �A�, but I will get 3 or 6 or whatever hours of credit. I�m thinking they ought to just let me test for a ... graduate degree or something. I enjoy the process of learning, but I hate sitting through classes where I already know 3/4 of the material. My time is valuable.

Okay, no it isn�t. Because, honestly, if I didn�t have that boring class to attend, I�d be home in my pajamas watching Law & Order all day while stuffing my face with oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. I would say mini corn dogs but those have to be heated and, please, like I�m going to miss Benjamin Bratt? And sometimes they show those L & O/Homicide: Life on the Street crossovers and ... well, if you think I�m going to miss one millisecond of Jon Seda--think again.

ANYway, one of the tests is for composition and I will have to write an essay, which will be graded by two individuals and my final grade will be the average of those two. Now. I know you can�t tell by my diary, but I write well. I do! And I think essays are, usually, the best way to see if a student understands whatever concept or lesson the instructor is teaching. BUT, I have one glaring issue with essays. The grading of. It�s very subjective and, like it or not, someone�s preconceived notions of your abilities/intelligence can cloud their judgment.

I�m getting myself all worked up again Oy. And there is just no way I can NOT get credit. No plausible way. Oh, I suppose I could just type �All work and no play makes Eibisch a dull chica� and chase the proctors around the test center, hacking the slower ones to death with an ax. But, really, where am I gonna get the ax? They won�t even let us bring our own #2 pencils.

My brother just called from his RTC. Although it is good for him, talking to him for me is like rubbing salt in a wound.

When he talks to me, he asks to come home. He doesn�t want to come home for the family part, he just wants somewhere else to go. I know that. Intellectually. It�s just ... God. I miss him.

All the horrible stuff we�ve gone through and, still, I just miss my boy. I still grieve for him. I don�t know if that makes any sense to you. I grieve for what he went through before the adoption and I grieve the loss of a member of my family and I grieve the loss of potential.

I don�t know what the future holds for me.

[breaking resolutions #5 AND #6 in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...]

Maybe I�ll get married, maybe I won�t. Maybe I�ll have 8 children, maybe I�ll have none. I don�t know.

I think my brother, and this situation, is going to haunt me forever. Especially if I don�t have children. I don�t know how to articulate this properly, but I�ll try...

All my life, I have wanted to be a mom. More than anything. I didn�t/don�t care if they�re biological, adopted, boys, girls, caucasian, asian, black, orange, plaid ... don�t care. Just want to be a mom, okay? And I was/am thwarted at every turn. Physically, financially, matrimonially ... And it is always some huge, beyond-my-control thing. When things with my brother came to a head, I really thought I could take some time to get my head straight, finish school and within a year or so be on my way to being a mom.

And then ... Autoimmune Hepatitis, exacerbated by a very rare, near fatal poisoning by Zithrofreakingmax--a most common antibiotic.

I can�t get a handle on all this. My brother could have very well been my only chance to �parent�/mold a child. And I know that God knew this ... and He didn�t protect the boy until we could come for him and, dammit, why not? It�s just so damn wrong. My brother�s life is probably screwed up beyond repair. I feel ... betrayed, I think. It�s just ... people like Susan Smith are blessed with these beautiful children that they murder and I can�t get a flipping date!

I almost wish I wasn�t such a soft touch when it comes to children. I wish I didn�t enjoy children, I wish I didn�t love them, I wish I didn�t care about them at all and I wish I didn�t want them so much. That would make my life so much easier.

Oh, well ... que sera, sera--right?

In Heaven there is no beer...
That�s why we drink it here...
And when we�re gone from here...
Our friends will be drinking all the beer...

UIowa 83
Minnesota 68

I�m just so happy. I HATE Minnesota--those yellow rodents--so much. It�s so nice to hand that team a double digit loss on their own court. GO HAWKS!

Note to Captain Gel: Still hate you.

Currently Reading: The Grass Dance by Laurel Johnson

Listening To: Plain White T�s
...Someday I'll be happy--will someone tell me when will that be?...

Have a happy day!

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