Dear Edward

Dearest Edward,
It's not you, it's me.
Not that I don't adore you, I do. In all your sparkly splendor. Your neurotic and posessive brand of love. The fact that you can dazzle. I mean, who wouldn't love you? Your eyes smolder, you read minds and you're polite. You play the piano. You survived the Spanish Influenza (well, sort of)
It's just that, don't laugh, but Lestat was my first love. And I'm simply not over him. So while I'm getting ready to see you next month, I still find myself thinking of him. Wondering what he's doing. Or undoing. He's like my crazy French alter ego. He's a part of me. Literally. Haven't you noticed his likeness etched in my very flesh?
And while I won't walk off and leave you devastated and alone in a forest, AHEM, sometimes, it's just, my heart's really not in it. I know, I obsessed a bit about you in the beginning. No, no, it's true. I did. And I still love you, I really do. But I always find myself back at Lestat.
Forgive me. I'm only human.


It was a song I heard today that brought this about. First, I was jamming to Death Cab's new song from the New Moon soundtrack - Meet Me at the Equinox. Reminded me how excited I am that Rob Pattinson would be coming -shirtless!- to a theater near me. Gives me chills. Anyway, then I plugged in my Ipod and lo and behold, it spits out another Death Cab song. Honestly, the first person it made me think of was my husband. Because I'm absolutely and totally head over heels, make people gag, in love with him.
Then it made me think of Lestat. Now, because I never bonded with either actor that played Lestat, I'm still in love with my own vision of him. Edward, however, has gradually turned into Rob Pattinson for me. And I realize that I love Rob Pattinson more than Edward. Let's face it, Edward doesn't say things like, "I'm just a tool. A big, hard tool." So I almost felt like I needed to apologize to one fictional vampire because I'm still in love with another fictional vampire.
Go on and laugh. I don't care. Edward would forgive me.
So, the song goes like this -

If heaven and hell decide
that they both are satisfied
and illuminate the nos on their vacancy signs
If there's no one there when your soul departs
Then I will follow you into the dark.

I Don't Wanna Grow Up

...I'm a Toys R Us kid, there's a million toys at Toys R Us that I can play with....

Isaiah was talking about Toys R Us a few days ago, so I sang the old song. We can now add that to the list of songs that make him cry. At least he has a reason for this one. When I was finished, he said he doesn't want to grow up, ever. And he's sad that I'm grown up, because then I'm not a Toys R Us kid anymore. After tons of hugs and kisses, I assured him that he's got many years of being a kid ahead of him, so he doesn't even need to think about being a grown up.
I've got one that never wants to grow up, and one that can't WAIT to be an adult.
Yesterday before I left for school, Daimean asked me if I've made any new friends yet. I said no. He said, That's ok mom. You will. I remember my first few weeks at a new school were tough, too. That's pretty typical of Daimean. He's a darling kid.
A darling kid who just got detention again. This time for not handing in his weekly family folder (which I sign each week to verify I received everything) and for talking and not following directions in class. Which is also typical of Daimean. See, here's the thing - his teachers all adore him BECAUSE he's a sweet kid. The school counselor (who meets with him to work on organization and responsibility) started out by telling me what a charming boy he is. *sigh* I KNOW he's charming. But right now can we please focus on his lack of motivation???
Ultimately, he is doing better, and he IS making an effort. I know he's going to get back on track. It's just frustrating for all involved trying to get him there.

Again with the Short Fiction

This was written (by me, duh) for my fiction class. Enjoy. Doesn't have a name, because i'm not feeling too clever today. Suggestions welcome.


I’m laying in bed, the alarm hasn’t gone off yet. I roll over and shut it off before it does, knowing my mom will come barging in here if she hears it. She’s such a freak. Thinks everyone is all rise and fucking shine at 7am.
The night before, I got home late, past my lame ass curfew. But you know what? I was out at Thalia’s, and her parents were gone, know what I’m sayin? I had her begging for it. Straight up begging, like, “Oh Shawn, gimme some!” but no, I didn’t. You know why? Because she’s special. No, I’m serious. She’s not like other girls at school. She’s real smart. She’s always talking about these crazy plans she’s got. Plans to get famous. She wants to be in movies, but, like, serious movies. Not High School Musical kind of shit.
So it was worth it, being late, having mom yell at me. I know she thinks I was over there gettin’ it on and all, but whatever. Let her think what she wants. She knows I don’t get in too much trouble. She’s just mad about curfew because she doesn’t want people to think that she’s a bad, single mom. Thinks all the neighbors are keeping tabs on what time I come home. Whatever. Truth is, she’s a great mom. Just don’t let her know I said that. Don’t want it going to her head.
So I’m walking to school, kinda drifting off, thinking about last night. Heading in through the main entrance, yeah, I noticed a cop car out front, but whatever. I mean, they’re here a lot. Community presence or something. Go to my locker, say what’s up to my boys from the basketball team. We’re getting ready to kick ass in tomorrow’s game against CP South. So I’m looking for Thalia now. I go to her locker, she’s not there. I check out back by the parking lot, I don’t see her car. She drives an old, blue Buick – so it’s hard to miss. I’m thinking, What the hell? She didn’t say anything last night about not coming to school today. If she was gonna cut class, she could have told me and I’d have gone to hang out with her. Whatever. Maybe she’s late. I DID have her up playing around late last night, you know? So I text her and head in to go to my first period English class.
But I don’t get there. Because as I turn the corner in front of the main office, someone grabs my arm. I turn around thinking it’s Thalia, but it’s some big cop, looking down at me like I’m scum. So I’m like, What’s up? Why you grabbin’ me like that? He’s all like some TV cop, talking about, You know why. I’m trying to pull my arm back, but he’s dragging me out the front door. I’m like, Dude, let go of me, what the fuck? I’m trying to pull back and when I turn around, I see Thalia. She’s standing in the door at the office, and she’s crying. So I get away from the jackass cop and I’m calling to her, Thalia! Baby, what’s wrong? And get this. She turns away from me, and some lady cop hugs her and covers her face, like a mother hen or something. So I’m thinking maybe something happened to her parents, or her sister, cause her sister is always sick. She’s got MS or MLS, some shit like that. This fucking cop grabbed me and threw me on the ground! So yeah, I started to fight him because what the hell? My girl’s over here crying and he won’t even let me talk to her.
Alright, so I’m here at the station, and I’ve been sitting here for like two hours. When I asked to call my parents, they said they already called them. I ask over and over why the hell I’m here, and they keep saying cryptic shit like, You think we don’t know what you did? Hell, I don’t even know what I did. They took my keys and my phone. They asked me to write a statement. What is this shit? Are we in China? You want me to write a statement about WHAT??
The door opens, a sloppy looking Indian lady walks in. Indian like, from India. Not like, scalping and tipi kind of Indian. Her hair’s all over the place. She looks like the guidance counselors at school, all business.
“Mr. Thornton, I assume you know why you’re here, so let’s get down to specifics.”
She says while she sets a stack of folders on the table in front of me.
“Look,” I start, as freakin calmly as I can, “I have no idea what you guys want. Some asshole dragged me away from school, and I’ve been sitting here. That’s what I know.”
She looks at me like something she stepped in, and she asks, “Are you telling me that you don’t remember raping Thalia Gomez between 10 and 11pm last night?”

And so that’s how it started. And I guess, how it ended. So now you’re asking me if I think I deserve to be paroled? Hell yes. Do I show any remorse? Just like I told everyone at the trial, and at the court ordered counseling sessions, I didn’t DO anything to feel remorse for, at all. You know, after the trial, Thalia sold her story to a tabloid, I heard she was on the front page. Guess she got famous after all. So you tell me, do I deserve to be paroled?

Beauty School Drop Out

Isaiah went to a pediatric optometrist yesterday, who said he actually doesn’t need glasses. The other doctor had only used a machine to check his eyes, you know, the farmhouse that goes out of focus? He didn’t have a full exam. The dr. said that little kids try so hard to focus on that, it tends to give false readings. He sees just fine! (for now, at least)
SO, the doctor offers him stickers at the end. Huge eyeball stickers that glow in the dark. Awesome, right?
Then he (being Isaiah) takes one off the backing and puts it over his own eye. It’s so big that it covers from his forehead to his cheek. As I’m standing there talking to the dr. he starts to pull it off. And it’s stuck to his eyebrow. Ouch! He’s tugging away on it, and the dr. says, “Be careful, you’re about to do a wax job!”
He gets the sticker off, along with half of his eyebrow. Yes, the dr and I laughed, a lot.
We go up front where Hubs is waiting, and Isaiah walks up to him and puts the sticker on his other eye and says, “Daddy! I’m gonna do a WAX JOB!”
My husband looks at me accusingly, like I’ve just put his son in a dress. Hey, who am I to stifle his tiny wax dreams? I said Don’t worry, if he takes too much off, I’ll just pencil in a nice arch for him :)

Myopia

My baby needs glasses  It’s not a surprise, of course, because both Hubs and I need vision correction. My big guy’s been wearing them since he was 6 or 7. I feel so bad! I didn’t need glasses until I was about 17. And Belly is so much more athletic than his brother. Daimean’s more like me…. Meaning he’s cerebral. Not athletically inclined. Isaiah’s more like their dad – he’s all BOY. How many pairs of glasses is he going to lose or break??? And poor D, the doctor has said we may want to consider letting him get contacts earlier than we might have bc his vision is pretty dang bad. But he likes the way his glasses look, so he’s not unhappy (thank goodness)

Will post pics when the Belly gets his new specs.

Panic! at the School

The school called, it was Mrs. Conway, who is a general office assistant that has probably been working there since the school opened in 1907.
She says, “I’m just calling to check on Isaiah.”
Me: “Okay, what do you need?”
Mrs. Conway: “Is he ill? I have a note here that he’s absent.”
Me: “No, I dropped Isaiah off this morning at school. He’s THERE.”
Pause
Me: “He IS there, right? Why don’t you go and check?!”

She calls back a minute later and says that he is indeed there, he’d been marked TARDY, not ABSENT.

And that took 10 years off my life.

Is it Friday Yet?

No? Seriously? MONDAY?! It's only MONDAY?!

*sigh*

Sooo...... I'm in school, and I'm enjoying it. This homework thing, that's going to be a problem. When do I have time to study and write papers?!?! I DON'T! I'm going to have to get super disciplined (and anyone who knows me knows that's a task and a half) to set aside time for all that needs to be done.
Took the kids to the local skate park yesterday. There may as well be a sign that says "No Moms Allowed" because it was like testosterone village. Of course they loved it. Daddy helped Isaiah with his skateboard, and Daimean rode around with a few friends. It's such a great place for kids to go and just be kids.

Went to the doctor, and when I got on the scale she said, "You're growing... just like the boys!" Then she dropped the smile and said, "And you're not supposed to be." Awwww :( Okay, I get it. Lose some weight. Or get 5 inches taller. So I'm on a diet. This kinda sucks. I want things bc I know I shouldn't have them. Then I get mad for depriving myself. Then I get mad for being weak. Right now, I am totally staying away from my trigger foods. The ones I can't just "have a little" of, it turns into me eating 4 lbs of butter cookies, cake, potato chips. So I'm eating fruits and veggies, which I love, BUT I look longingly at pizza, and burgers :( I also look longingly at size 6 clothes though!