Usually when you receive a phone call at 4:44 in the morning, it's a bad thing. But when the phone started ringing Monday morning I wasn't worried. I could have answered it as I was already awake, but it was Scott's cell phone that was ringing and it was on his side of the bed so I let him get it.
"Hello?"
"Okay. You want us to come over then?"
"Alright, we'll be over."
"What did Matt say?" I asked my husband sleepily as we both got up and started to get dressed. "Cassy's in labour," was his reply in a tired 'that-should-have-been-obvious' tone of voice. I had guessed as much, but wanted to make sure I was right and that a complication in my sister-in-law's pregnancy hadn't been the reason for the middle-of-the-night phone call. We had told Matt and Cassy previously that we would watch their 3-year-old son Porter if Cassy went into labour in the middle of the night, so we drove to their house in downtown DC as quickly as we could. Matt greeted us at the door dressed in khaki slacks and a dressy blue shirt. He thanked us for coming over and gave us instructions for getting Porter up in an hour and a half and taking him to school. After about 15 minutes Matt and Cassy were both ready, grabbed their bags, and left for the hospital. I laid down and set my alarm for 6:20 in case I fell asleep. I did. I awoke just before Porter did, walking out to the kitchen and discovering that my husband had gotten up before me and was already eating breakfast. Porter came out of his room coughing like crazy, realized that Scott and I weren't his parents, and ran back to his room. I gave him about a minute to wake up, and then went to check on him.
"Hi, Porter. Are you almost ready to get up and go to school?" This elicited a very enthusiastic, "Uh-huh!" from him as he sat up quickly. He assured me that even though he had been coughing, he wasn't sick and could definitely go to school. Porter loves school. As I patted the bed next to me and realized it was slightly damp, Porter said, "Well, I just woke up and had a good-morning pee in my bed." I asked him if he wanted to change his underwear before he got dressed, to which he replied, "No, not today! I meant I did that a different day." Uh-huh.
Scott and I fed Porter breakfast, during which he told us that the leather armchair in the living room was made out of wood and cow-skin and that Fidel Castro was from Cuba (This child is 3!!! How does he know this stuff?). While Porter got dressed (putting his shorts on backwards, which I didn't realize until about 8:00 pm that evening) and had Scott help him put his socks and shoes on, I washed the dishes and and listened to Porter try and convince me that the Red Sox definitely weren't from Boston. After Porter was dressed and ready for school, he jumped on Scott and started wrestling him to the couch ("roughing up" is what Porter calls it). When I was finished with the dishes, the 3 of us left Matt and Cassy's house and drove to Porter's school (getting lost on the way). After dropping Porter off at school, Scott and I went to the hospital to see how Cassy was coming along. She was close, so we waited outside for awhile until Matt came out grinning and announced to us the birth of his daughter (whom everyone has been calling "Penelope" for the duration of Cassy's pregnancy). When Cassy had gone into labour that morning, Matt predicted Penelope would be born by 9:00. She was born at 9:01. Too bad, Matt. You were so close. :)
Penelope couldn't be seen or held yet, as she hadn't been weighed or measured or any of that other "official" stuff, so Scott and I left the hospital and promised to return that afternoon. We spent the day 'accomplishing stuff' - Scott studied on campus, while I did the grocery shopping and cleaned the house. After dinner we went back to the hospital to visit Penelope. She's adorable! She's tiny - 7 lbs 1 oz., with a decent amount of hair on her head and very emotive facial expressions. Since her family lives in the same city as I do, I can visit and spoil her often. I am absolutely thrilled to have another niece (I didn't have any nieces or nephews before I got married 5 weeks ago, so this is still very new and exciting to me). Penelope is the first whom, from the day of her birth, I can point to and say, "That's my niece! Isn't she adorable?"
I'm gonna be a great aunt.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
A Time For Family
15 July 2006. A birthday celebration is held for Alta Fern Taylor Albrecht in
6 August 2006. It has been nearly a month since Alta’s 93rd birthday. My wedding has come and gone, as has my honeymoon, and it will be only a week or so until my new husband and I move into our apartment in
It is Sunday, and Scott and I are at my mother’s house spending time with my family. Scott’s father, Don, calls us during a game of cards with my siblings, my mother, and my Aunt Melody to tell us that Alta has reached critical condition; she is not expected to live more that a few days, if that much. She is weak, and pale. She doesn’t eat and seems to have lost the will to live. This news is hard to hear - no one is shocked, but everyone is crushed. Scott and I leave my mother’s house within the hour and return to his parents’ home in
10 August 2006. It is now Thursday. The last four days have been full of uncertainty and changes of plans; we receive phone calls a few times a day with updates on Alta’s condition. Sometimes it is thought that she will survive a few days or so, while at other times she is not believed to live for longer than a few more hours. We hope that she will soon be relieved of her pain. I feel I am walking on eggshells, and every time the phone rings my heart sinks and my stomach tightens - this could be it.
But now it is Thursday, and we are headed for the east coast and our new home. Don and Carol are driving the moving truck, while Scott and I follow behind in our Nissan Sentra. My mind has calmed a bit, and my focus has turned away from Alta and toward my future in
15 August 2006. Tuesday, the day of Alta’s funeral. It has now been exactly a month since her group of 100 descendents gathered around to celebrate her birth; how ironic that we would now all be back to celebrate her life in a very different way. All of Scott’s siblings, his parents, and I are in attendance. Don had flown to
And now as I sit in the chapel and look around at the many people are here to express their love for Alta and her life, I am suddenly glad I did. Before the funeral service a smaller family gathering is held, just outside the chapel. Family members are allowed to individually approach the coffin and say their final farewells, while the rest of the family draws around for emotional support. Some don’t cry at all, others shed only a few tears for their loss, and a few bury their faces in nearby shoulders or their own hands as sobs rack their bodies. I feel I can hardly breathe, the emotion in the room is so thick. When everyone has taken their turn, we all follow the coffin into the chapel and find our seats as it is placed on the stand at the front of the room. The service begins. It is beautiful; each of Alta’s children speak, sharing stories about their beloved mother and what life meant to her. Some of the tales are humourous, others are inspirational. But all of them are told with the utmost respect, admiration, and love – it is very obvious that Alta’s children care for their mother deeply. She was truly a special woman, someone to model one’s life after. Interspersed with the speakers’ remarks, musical numbers are performed - all at the previous request of Alta herself. I know she loves it. Following the service, the funeral procession drives to the cemetery where Alta’s grave is dedicated and she is buried. Slowly everyone makes their way back to the chapel, where there is food provided by a local charity. After eating and socializing, Scott’s parents, siblings, and I get in the van and drive back towards
Sunday, May 21, 2006
23.5 Years
I have noticed my that my English is slipping a bit these days. It's the influence of these blasted Brits; not only are they affecting my spelling (favourite, honour, and theatre, but never analyse), they're also changing my phraseology. If there were such a thing as grammar police (Audrey, pretend you're not reading any of this), I would surely be thrown in the stocks for my crimes. Following is a list of grammatically incorrect phrases that I have actually used in the past 3 weeks.
1. Me. Used as a possessive, this word is often heard in a sentence such as, "Alright, who was the stupid git who knicked me bit of cake?" Penalty: 3 years.
2. Round. As in, "Would you like to come round for supper tonight?" English says that the proper word would be around, but the Brits seem to leave off the small-but-oh-so-essential 'a'. Penalty: 6 months per offense, equaling 3.5 years. (I think.)
3. Were stood. This is offensive for two reasons. Reason 1: 'were'. Reason 2: 'stood'. This phrase is used in a sentence such as, "I were stood outside all day while it was chucking down." While I most often say "I was stood," I have been caught using 'were'. Penalty: 10 years.
4. Do, done, etc. Added to the ends of sentences, to emphasize, well, I'm not quite sure what's being emphasized. When asked a question, many Brits will respond with "We could do." or "I should have done." I can't actually say whether or not it's grammatically incorrect to say those things, but I just thought that, while we were on the subject, they should be mentioned. Penalty: A disparaging look from Audrey.
5. To, of, etc. This is not a crime of inclusion, but of exclusion. ‘To’ and ‘of’ are small but quite essential words that too often get left out of sentences, as in, “I’m going to go up (‘to’ is appropriate here) the top; I’ll meet you there.” Penalty: 6 months per offense, equaling approx. 7 years.
Using my excellent math skills, I have determined that the total time I shall spend in the stocks is equal to 23.5 years. This poses a problem, as I was planning on getting married in 2 months. I hope that Scott is patient enough to wait it out. 23.5 years? Surely it will fly by.
The most pressing question on my mind, however, is: Will I get bathroom breaks?
1. Me. Used as a possessive, this word is often heard in a sentence such as, "Alright, who was the stupid git who knicked me bit of cake?" Penalty: 3 years.
2. Round. As in, "Would you like to come round for supper tonight?" English says that the proper word would be around, but the Brits seem to leave off the small-but-oh-so-essential 'a'. Penalty: 6 months per offense, equaling 3.5 years. (I think.)
3. Were stood. This is offensive for two reasons. Reason 1: 'were'. Reason 2: 'stood'. This phrase is used in a sentence such as, "I were stood outside all day while it was chucking down." While I most often say "I was stood," I have been caught using 'were'. Penalty: 10 years.
4. Do, done, etc. Added to the ends of sentences, to emphasize, well, I'm not quite sure what's being emphasized. When asked a question, many Brits will respond with "We could do." or "I should have done." I can't actually say whether or not it's grammatically incorrect to say those things, but I just thought that, while we were on the subject, they should be mentioned. Penalty: A disparaging look from Audrey.
5. To, of, etc. This is not a crime of inclusion, but of exclusion. ‘To’ and ‘of’ are small but quite essential words that too often get left out of sentences, as in, “I’m going to go up (‘to’ is appropriate here) the top; I’ll meet you there.” Penalty: 6 months per offense, equaling approx. 7 years.
Using my excellent math skills, I have determined that the total time I shall spend in the stocks is equal to 23.5 years. This poses a problem, as I was planning on getting married in 2 months. I hope that Scott is patient enough to wait it out. 23.5 years? Surely it will fly by.
The most pressing question on my mind, however, is: Will I get bathroom breaks?
Monday, May 08, 2006
Suds
In celebration of her 21st birthday, this entry is dedicated to one of my favourite people in the whole world: Audrey Hunter.
I love everyone, as anyone who knows me can attest to, and though I tell many people off-handedly that they are my 'new favourite', that manifestation of affection is casual (though not in the slightest bit feigned) and short-lived. I have few true out-and-out favourites. However, Audrey couldn't help but make the list - even if she had tried hard to make an enemy of me, I still would have liked her. Or, if not liked, at least admired and respected. She's just one of those people.
When Audrey and I first met, we weren't friends. We knew each other very casually, partly from the fact that we were in the same American Heritage class and partly because we both visited the same apartment of boys on a regualr basis. We even had an interest in the same boy, though on different levels - my interest was more of a curiosity and a passing crush, while Audrey's was longer-lived, more acted-upon, and definitely more unretractable. Due to our mutual affection for this boy, there was always some amount of competition between us, though it was never really acknowledged or even strong enough to be of much notice. Four months after I met her, Audrey went away for the summer. Because I didn't know her well, I was surprised when I noticed her absence. There was a presence that was lacking at the Riviera when she left. I surprised myself when I admitted that I really missed her, and made sure to be around the night she returned to Utah - before she had even moved back into her apartment. I don't remember much of our relationship between then and being friends, but I know that my wonder at her quickly turned from intimidation to veneration.
How do I love Audrey? Let me count the ways.
Audrey is fantastic to be around. She is clever and funny, and a fountain of imformation about things that I never knew but always wanted to. She will happily sing at the top of her lungs around anyone with whom she feels comfortable, and make up her own words if she doesn't know the original lyrics. She likes to read aloud. She memorizes poems, movies, books, songs, and other quotes she thinks she might possibly be able to use again someday or that she simply likes the sound of. She loves puppies, bunnies, flowers, and all things soft and gentle. She is beautiful and elegant. She cries at movies, particularly ones about friendship; she loves the classics and films suited for the family. She misses theatre. She is easily bribed by cheese, milk, flatteries, and other such simplicities - but is it not so much the offering itself, as the fact that it is being offered by a friend. The bribes are merely tokens of reciprocated affection and loyalty. I not only like Audrey, I adore her.
Audrey is a wonderful person. She is quick to be sardonic and witty, but is serious when the situation calls for it. I never worry about being laughed at or looked down upon when I speak to Audrey. She knows when I need to laugh about something, when I need to talk about it, and when I need simply to cry. She is understanding. In many respects she knows me better than I know myself, and I often go to her to ask her what I think about something. She is loyal to a fault, and fiercely protective of those she loves. She loves genuinely and easily, and gives of herself often; she is observant but non-judgmental. She is simply a good person.
Audrey will be a bridesmaid at my wedding, and I can hardly think of anyone I would rather have. She will stress about all the things that I won't, and be level-headed when I am anything but. She will dress up in an elegant navy blue gown, and flounce about giggling like a schoolgirl at the excitement of it all. I will hug her and probably laugh out of pure adoration at her delight and merriment. She will wink at me from across the reception hall, stay tied to our close-knit group of roommates, and then finally stand up alone to make a speech that I will either cry or blush at. Perhaps I will do both.
There are so many more things I could say about Audrey, but then this blog entry would end up being a novel. In short, she is someone whose friendship I will always cherish, whom I will be eternally grateful to know, and who will never be far from my thoughts. After all, she is my favourite.
I love everyone, as anyone who knows me can attest to, and though I tell many people off-handedly that they are my 'new favourite', that manifestation of affection is casual (though not in the slightest bit feigned) and short-lived. I have few true out-and-out favourites. However, Audrey couldn't help but make the list - even if she had tried hard to make an enemy of me, I still would have liked her. Or, if not liked, at least admired and respected. She's just one of those people.
When Audrey and I first met, we weren't friends. We knew each other very casually, partly from the fact that we were in the same American Heritage class and partly because we both visited the same apartment of boys on a regualr basis. We even had an interest in the same boy, though on different levels - my interest was more of a curiosity and a passing crush, while Audrey's was longer-lived, more acted-upon, and definitely more unretractable. Due to our mutual affection for this boy, there was always some amount of competition between us, though it was never really acknowledged or even strong enough to be of much notice. Four months after I met her, Audrey went away for the summer. Because I didn't know her well, I was surprised when I noticed her absence. There was a presence that was lacking at the Riviera when she left. I surprised myself when I admitted that I really missed her, and made sure to be around the night she returned to Utah - before she had even moved back into her apartment. I don't remember much of our relationship between then and being friends, but I know that my wonder at her quickly turned from intimidation to veneration.
How do I love Audrey? Let me count the ways.
Audrey is fantastic to be around. She is clever and funny, and a fountain of imformation about things that I never knew but always wanted to. She will happily sing at the top of her lungs around anyone with whom she feels comfortable, and make up her own words if she doesn't know the original lyrics. She likes to read aloud. She memorizes poems, movies, books, songs, and other quotes she thinks she might possibly be able to use again someday or that she simply likes the sound of. She loves puppies, bunnies, flowers, and all things soft and gentle. She is beautiful and elegant. She cries at movies, particularly ones about friendship; she loves the classics and films suited for the family. She misses theatre. She is easily bribed by cheese, milk, flatteries, and other such simplicities - but is it not so much the offering itself, as the fact that it is being offered by a friend. The bribes are merely tokens of reciprocated affection and loyalty. I not only like Audrey, I adore her.
Audrey is a wonderful person. She is quick to be sardonic and witty, but is serious when the situation calls for it. I never worry about being laughed at or looked down upon when I speak to Audrey. She knows when I need to laugh about something, when I need to talk about it, and when I need simply to cry. She is understanding. In many respects she knows me better than I know myself, and I often go to her to ask her what I think about something. She is loyal to a fault, and fiercely protective of those she loves. She loves genuinely and easily, and gives of herself often; she is observant but non-judgmental. She is simply a good person.
Audrey will be a bridesmaid at my wedding, and I can hardly think of anyone I would rather have. She will stress about all the things that I won't, and be level-headed when I am anything but. She will dress up in an elegant navy blue gown, and flounce about giggling like a schoolgirl at the excitement of it all. I will hug her and probably laugh out of pure adoration at her delight and merriment. She will wink at me from across the reception hall, stay tied to our close-knit group of roommates, and then finally stand up alone to make a speech that I will either cry or blush at. Perhaps I will do both.
There are so many more things I could say about Audrey, but then this blog entry would end up being a novel. In short, she is someone whose friendship I will always cherish, whom I will be eternally grateful to know, and who will never be far from my thoughts. After all, she is my favourite.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Peanut Butter and Cheese
Yesterday afternoon I stood with Scott in the kitchen, dying Easter eggs, when Audrey came out from her room looking bleary-eyed. "Hey, Tarythe, when Heather and Nora get here, just send them back to my room, okay? I'm going to lie back down on my bed." I replied that I would, and informed Audrey that there was a surprise waiting in the fridge for her. She at first looked confused, and then realized that I was speaking of the peanut butter and cheese sandwich (meaning two pieces of cheese with peanut butter in between them) that I had made for her earlier that afternoon. When I had taken the delectable to her bedroom for her to eat, I'd found her attempting a mid-afternoon nap so I promised to leave it in refrigerator for her to have later. Now, as she read the "DON'T TOUCH" sign I had labeled the sandwich with, she laughed and unwrapped the 5 or so layers of saran wrap that protected her treat from knaves.
It wasn't until a full 5 minutes after Audrey wandered back into her room to wait for her sisters to arrive that I realized the implications of her origingal request. I turned to Scott and asked, "Wait, did she say HEATHER and Nora? Heather lives in New York!" Scott affirmed that I had indeed heard Audrey correctly, and I stood there with a confused look on my face. Just then Nora and another woman (who I correctly assumed was Heather) wandered around the corner, looking for their sister. They found her in the hallway, and after a round of hugs the three traipsed into Audrey's bedroom to chat. I followed them shortly afterward, so I could meet Heather and to say hello to Nora, whom I hadn't seen for a week or so. The three looked so happy to see each other again. It was a wonderful surprise to finally meet Audrey's sister Heather, whom I had heard so much about and whose writing I kept up-to-date on. As I stood next to Audrey's bed where Heather and Nora perched, I noticed the similarities and differences between the three girls, both in appearance and personality. I have now officially met all of Audrey's immediate family save her mother...perhaps the summer will remedy that.
It wasn't until a full 5 minutes after Audrey wandered back into her room to wait for her sisters to arrive that I realized the implications of her origingal request. I turned to Scott and asked, "Wait, did she say HEATHER and Nora? Heather lives in New York!" Scott affirmed that I had indeed heard Audrey correctly, and I stood there with a confused look on my face. Just then Nora and another woman (who I correctly assumed was Heather) wandered around the corner, looking for their sister. They found her in the hallway, and after a round of hugs the three traipsed into Audrey's bedroom to chat. I followed them shortly afterward, so I could meet Heather and to say hello to Nora, whom I hadn't seen for a week or so. The three looked so happy to see each other again. It was a wonderful surprise to finally meet Audrey's sister Heather, whom I had heard so much about and whose writing I kept up-to-date on. As I stood next to Audrey's bed where Heather and Nora perched, I noticed the similarities and differences between the three girls, both in appearance and personality. I have now officially met all of Audrey's immediate family save her mother...perhaps the summer will remedy that.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
My Mission Call
Whether or not I would serve a mission for my church was never a question; I always just assumed that I would. I never even considered otherwise, and would never say "IF I go on a mission...", but rather 'WHEN'. It was simply the next step in life, and as I grew older so grew my anticipatory excitement of this great calling and opportunity. I wanted so much to offer myself to the Lord, taking a year and a half to do nothing but serve His children and share with them the gospel of Jesus Christ which has brought so much joy and hapiness into my life. As a girl, I looked forward to this time of personal sacrifice with excitement, and complained because I could not go until I was 21 years of age.
But as my 21st birthday drew nearer, the idea that my mission wasn't to be assumed became evident to me. I realized that there were other capacities in which I could serve the Lord, ones which would be just as pleasing to Him and would bring me equal hapiness. As this idea became more apparent, I recognized that it was a choice for me to make, in close council with the Lord.
When January came, I looked ahead to my birthday in the summer and thought about the fact that in a few short months I would be able to turn my papers in soon and ask to recieve a mission call. Throughout the semester it has been always at the back of my mind, to be considered as an option should another not pan out. At first it did not present a serious problem, but as the summer drew closer I realized that it was one of many upcoming decisions that would greatly impact the rest of my life, and would have to be made soon. So I called upon the Lord, begging for assistance and waiting to recieve my answers...in the meantime, taking life one day and sometimes one hour or one minute at a time. After my dental surgery, I had plenty of time to myself to think and to consult with the Lord. During those hours in which I was unable to do much of anything but think, the Lord graciously filled me with His Spirit and enlightened my mind. I felt peace like I have rarely felt before. In those quiet hours came many of the answers I sought; concerning those answers which I did not recieve, in their place came the soft whispers of comfort that told me I did not need to know those things now. ("...In response to my cries, He simply replies, 'Peace be unto thy soul.' ") I have said before that patience is a virtue but not one of mine, and I add to that statement that the Lord is patiently (ironic, isn't it?) teaching me to be so.
I have chosen to marry rather than go on a mission; perhaps one day Scott and I will serve a mission together, but for now I know that this is where I need to be. I have been told by the Lord that I will be given the opportunity to serve, but that my greatest calling will be that of a noble mother and wife. I jokingly threaten Scott with the possibility that as we are yet unmarried I could still leave him and choose to go on a mission, but in reality there is no chance of that. I know my place and my purpose. I thank the Lord for that; for the knowledge I have that I am His daughter, that He loves me, and that in me is the inherent capability of greatness. Truly, I am blessed.
But as my 21st birthday drew nearer, the idea that my mission wasn't to be assumed became evident to me. I realized that there were other capacities in which I could serve the Lord, ones which would be just as pleasing to Him and would bring me equal hapiness. As this idea became more apparent, I recognized that it was a choice for me to make, in close council with the Lord.
When January came, I looked ahead to my birthday in the summer and thought about the fact that in a few short months I would be able to turn my papers in soon and ask to recieve a mission call. Throughout the semester it has been always at the back of my mind, to be considered as an option should another not pan out. At first it did not present a serious problem, but as the summer drew closer I realized that it was one of many upcoming decisions that would greatly impact the rest of my life, and would have to be made soon. So I called upon the Lord, begging for assistance and waiting to recieve my answers...in the meantime, taking life one day and sometimes one hour or one minute at a time. After my dental surgery, I had plenty of time to myself to think and to consult with the Lord. During those hours in which I was unable to do much of anything but think, the Lord graciously filled me with His Spirit and enlightened my mind. I felt peace like I have rarely felt before. In those quiet hours came many of the answers I sought; concerning those answers which I did not recieve, in their place came the soft whispers of comfort that told me I did not need to know those things now. ("...In response to my cries, He simply replies, 'Peace be unto thy soul.' ") I have said before that patience is a virtue but not one of mine, and I add to that statement that the Lord is patiently (ironic, isn't it?) teaching me to be so.
I have chosen to marry rather than go on a mission; perhaps one day Scott and I will serve a mission together, but for now I know that this is where I need to be. I have been told by the Lord that I will be given the opportunity to serve, but that my greatest calling will be that of a noble mother and wife. I jokingly threaten Scott with the possibility that as we are yet unmarried I could still leave him and choose to go on a mission, but in reality there is no chance of that. I know my place and my purpose. I thank the Lord for that; for the knowledge I have that I am His daughter, that He loves me, and that in me is the inherent capability of greatness. Truly, I am blessed.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
A Story
This is an old story, a classic tale that you’ve heard many times before.
Boy meets girl. Boy and girl are just friends, until one day they discover that they could be more. Boy and girl flirt, date, hold hands, and kiss. Boy sweeps girl off her feet, and finally proposes with the most gorgeous ring the girl has ever seen. The two will get married in San Antonio in July, and begin their life together in Maryland. Everyone rejoices.
Pictures of the ring pending; just let me know if you want them…
Boy meets girl. Boy and girl are just friends, until one day they discover that they could be more. Boy and girl flirt, date, hold hands, and kiss. Boy sweeps girl off her feet, and finally proposes with the most gorgeous ring the girl has ever seen. The two will get married in San Antonio in July, and begin their life together in Maryland. Everyone rejoices.
Pictures of the ring pending; just let me know if you want them…
Friday, March 31, 2006
My Evening Constitutional
I took a walk last night. Out of the Riviera, up towards the stadium, past the gas station and Dairy Queen, around and around the parking lot. I was restless. I called to Julie, as I walked out of our room at 12:30 or so, that I was going to go walking and that if I wasn't back in an hour I had probably died. I didn't die, and was back within the hour.
I haven't walked alone at night in awhile; only once or twice this semester I believe. It used to be a regular occurence, and I've had Audrey not speak to me for hours on a couple of occasions because despite her specifically forbidding me to, I walked anyway. Ted has joined me on a couple of my rounds, and when he did so we would walk in complete silence for most of the way as he was there not to talk, but just to ensure that I got back home safely. My walks were partly because I had nothing else to do in the middle of the night, and partly because I needed to get out; the fresh air was calming and the silence of the night was peaceful. The empty streets offered me freedom to roam as I pleased, and though I felt as though the rest of my life was out of my control, there was one thing I knew I had the power to do. I walked at night simply because I could. Unfortunately, my middle-of-the-night ambles affected not only myself. A friend of mine, innocent, one with little to no real life experience, followed my example last summer and took her own stroll after midnight - ending up halfway across town. I told myself that I wouldn't walk so often again - not for my own sake, but because my decisions affect others as well.
But last night, again, I felt powerless. Overwhelmed, and helpless, and unsure of what to do to ease my frustrations. So I fell back to what I knew, and I walked. I walked with tears streaming down my face until I could hardly see in which direction I was heading. I walked in a state of dizziness and surprisingly enough, only collapsed a couple of times. Stupid narcotics. I didn't know where I was going or how long I would be gone, I just needed to walk. So I did.
I haven't walked alone at night in awhile; only once or twice this semester I believe. It used to be a regular occurence, and I've had Audrey not speak to me for hours on a couple of occasions because despite her specifically forbidding me to, I walked anyway. Ted has joined me on a couple of my rounds, and when he did so we would walk in complete silence for most of the way as he was there not to talk, but just to ensure that I got back home safely. My walks were partly because I had nothing else to do in the middle of the night, and partly because I needed to get out; the fresh air was calming and the silence of the night was peaceful. The empty streets offered me freedom to roam as I pleased, and though I felt as though the rest of my life was out of my control, there was one thing I knew I had the power to do. I walked at night simply because I could. Unfortunately, my middle-of-the-night ambles affected not only myself. A friend of mine, innocent, one with little to no real life experience, followed my example last summer and took her own stroll after midnight - ending up halfway across town. I told myself that I wouldn't walk so often again - not for my own sake, but because my decisions affect others as well.
But last night, again, I felt powerless. Overwhelmed, and helpless, and unsure of what to do to ease my frustrations. So I fell back to what I knew, and I walked. I walked with tears streaming down my face until I could hardly see in which direction I was heading. I walked in a state of dizziness and surprisingly enough, only collapsed a couple of times. Stupid narcotics. I didn't know where I was going or how long I would be gone, I just needed to walk. So I did.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Stubborn
I'm writing the following while on narcotics; if it doesn't make any sense I'm not responsible. :)
"Alright, Tarythe, just lie down now."
Oh, yeah right, like that's going to work on me. Uh-uh, I'm going home and they can't stop me.
Audrey and Scott tried a few times to lie me down on the couch, pushing my head and shoulders over one time and pulling my feet up the next, then attempting to do both at the same time so as to throw me off balance. I wouldn't have it. I sat up, shook my head, and simply said, "No."
It took them a few tries, but eventually they won and I was lying on my back on the couch.
Why am I still here? I want to go home! I hate the dentist. Now, where's the car?
Little to my knowledge, I was no longer at the dentist's office but already in my apartment.
I titlted my head and looked inquiringly at Scott. "I love you. Where's LaQueshawnda?"
LaQueshawnda is Scott's car and the vehicle I knew I was riding home in. I don't remember what Scott replied, but I wasn't listening anyway. I couldn't believe that I was still at the dentist's office and that noone was cooperating with me. I turned away from everyone and went promptly to sleep.
I fought the drugs all afternoon. I wanted to be awake and interacting with people, and kept trying to join in others' conversations. "Be quiet and just go to sleep, Tarythe."
"No," I replied. "I already had a 3-hour nap today. I'm fine."
I, for some reason, equated "being sedated for a 3-hour surgery" with "a 3-hour nap".
I didn't want to be lying down. I would periodically get up for no apparent reason; I myself don't even remember exactly why, except for the fact that I wanted to be up and not still stuck on the couch. Only once or twice I had a specific reason for jumping up suddenly and attempting to sprint out of the room. The first was I wanted to be in my pajamas. As much as I love wearing them, jeans aren't quite as comfortable as the cotton duck-print pjs that my mother lovingly made for me over Christmas, and I was determined to switch out the first for the second. Audrey tried to dissuade me, saying that Scott couldn't help me change but that she would in a few minutes; she was lying, but I didn't recognize it in her voice and I was momentarily appeased. But only momentarily.
Wait a minute, pajamas! I want my pajamas now, not later. Silly Audrey.
Suddenly I stood up and stumbled out of the room at a dangerously quick pace. Cassidy followed behind, asking me where I was going to and what I thought I was doing. I simply said, "pajamas". I somehow pulled on the duck-print pants, and tried to walk back out to the living room until Cassidy threw a shirt at me and I realized that I was only half-dressed. Thank goodness for roommates. I went back out to where everyone was and collapsed back onto the couch, much more comfortable. I slipped back out of consciousness.
I've spent the last few days doing pretty much nothing; everything makes me feel naseous and the drugs keep me in a constant state of drowsiness. My roommates keep getting frustrated with me, because I try to walk around and will collapse unexpectedly. I just hope that this doesn't last for long.
Drugs + Tarythe = Bad.
"Alright, Tarythe, just lie down now."
Oh, yeah right, like that's going to work on me. Uh-uh, I'm going home and they can't stop me.
Audrey and Scott tried a few times to lie me down on the couch, pushing my head and shoulders over one time and pulling my feet up the next, then attempting to do both at the same time so as to throw me off balance. I wouldn't have it. I sat up, shook my head, and simply said, "No."
It took them a few tries, but eventually they won and I was lying on my back on the couch.
Why am I still here? I want to go home! I hate the dentist. Now, where's the car?
Little to my knowledge, I was no longer at the dentist's office but already in my apartment.
I titlted my head and looked inquiringly at Scott. "I love you. Where's LaQueshawnda?"
LaQueshawnda is Scott's car and the vehicle I knew I was riding home in. I don't remember what Scott replied, but I wasn't listening anyway. I couldn't believe that I was still at the dentist's office and that noone was cooperating with me. I turned away from everyone and went promptly to sleep.
I fought the drugs all afternoon. I wanted to be awake and interacting with people, and kept trying to join in others' conversations. "Be quiet and just go to sleep, Tarythe."
"No," I replied. "I already had a 3-hour nap today. I'm fine."
I, for some reason, equated "being sedated for a 3-hour surgery" with "a 3-hour nap".
I didn't want to be lying down. I would periodically get up for no apparent reason; I myself don't even remember exactly why, except for the fact that I wanted to be up and not still stuck on the couch. Only once or twice I had a specific reason for jumping up suddenly and attempting to sprint out of the room. The first was I wanted to be in my pajamas. As much as I love wearing them, jeans aren't quite as comfortable as the cotton duck-print pjs that my mother lovingly made for me over Christmas, and I was determined to switch out the first for the second. Audrey tried to dissuade me, saying that Scott couldn't help me change but that she would in a few minutes; she was lying, but I didn't recognize it in her voice and I was momentarily appeased. But only momentarily.
Wait a minute, pajamas! I want my pajamas now, not later. Silly Audrey.
Suddenly I stood up and stumbled out of the room at a dangerously quick pace. Cassidy followed behind, asking me where I was going to and what I thought I was doing. I simply said, "pajamas". I somehow pulled on the duck-print pants, and tried to walk back out to the living room until Cassidy threw a shirt at me and I realized that I was only half-dressed. Thank goodness for roommates. I went back out to where everyone was and collapsed back onto the couch, much more comfortable. I slipped back out of consciousness.
I've spent the last few days doing pretty much nothing; everything makes me feel naseous and the drugs keep me in a constant state of drowsiness. My roommates keep getting frustrated with me, because I try to walk around and will collapse unexpectedly. I just hope that this doesn't last for long.
Drugs + Tarythe = Bad.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Maryland
A new school, a new city, a new job, new friends, a new apartment, new roommates, a new church district...terrifying? Yes. But I feel surprisingly calm about it.
Perhaps it's the drugs.
Perhaps it's the drugs.
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