The curve of your lips rewrite history.

Would you say they find me unstable?

The past four days have been the ultimate blur. What was supposed to be a fucking blast of a week turned into the worst week of my life to date. It started out just fine - went and saw Doug Stanhope live, he was amazing. Got to hang out with him and his girlfiend for a while there. Drinking into oblivion. i was awake until around eight in the morning partying with some friends. i fell asleep and woke up around ten in the morning to the hotel room phone ringing. It was pitch black in the room and i couldn't find the phone so it stopped ringing. i realized i was alone in the room, Jenelle and Tiki went to the beach. So i laid back down in the bed and started to fall back asleep. Not a minute later the alarm clock in the room went off. i then flew into a full fledged panic. Smacking the shit out of the alarm clock and crawling under the blankets. About an hour later the girls came slithering back into the hotel room. Still laying in bed with my eyes closed i mumbled how the room was haunted. They of course assumed that i was drunk/hungover/sleeptalking/crazy. i rolled over and went back to sleep. Around hour after that i woke up to my phone ringing, and it was my sisters ringtone. My Aunt Vikki was in the hospital in Vallejo being read her last rights and getting an emergency baptism. It was the first moment in my life that i had no idea what to do. i was just standing there in the bathroom holding onto the phone while my sister rattled on and on about how my mother was a mess, and how they found her, and how my own grandmother had to give her youngest daughter CPR. All of these horrible images are being flooded into my brain and i'm standing in the hotel bathroom sobbing like a five year old girl without the slightest clue of what to do. i end up catching a cab, hopping on Bart, walking what seems miles dragging a suitcase to my truck parked in Martinez, hopping on 4, hopping on 680, hopping on 780, then hopping on 80, getting lost in Vallejo like i always, and eventually stumble into the waiting room...on maybe four hours of hungover sleep. We stay in the waiting room until.. well actually i have no idea how long we were in there. All i know is that it was a long ass time, and then we get news. She went so long without oxygen to her brain, to the point where she is 80-90% braindead. Meaning, she is going to be a vegetable for the rest of her life. The doctors want to run more tests, and will know more the next day.. so we leave. The next day we're there at the hospital again because my grandma has to make a decision. Everyone in my family is Mexican and therefore, Catholic. So there's this belief that Christ died on a Friday sometime around three o'clock *the ninth hour*. So there's this belief that when people die around this time their passing is easier. So at 2:45 p.m. my Grandma tells them to pull the plug. We're packed in the room when they do it. Just watching the pulse get lower and lower. i'm listening to my grandma talk to my Auntie and my mother is having a complete breakdown. My brother and sister in law are clutching onto eachother. i'm standing there watching everything. And looking out the window. Then looking at her pulse. And the whole time i am thinking to myself that this has to be a horrible dream. That i am going to wake up in that haunted ass hotel room and then go to see Mason Jennings. i pondered praying to god, even though i don't believe in him. i was just so hopelessly sad. She died within 15-20 minutes of them pulling the plug. After everything happened i was so devoid of everything, i was walking outside with Ian. He says to me, "are you gonna be alright? i mean...your favorite Aunt - your only Aunt just died." i nodded and told him not to worry, that i was "cool". But it was only when he said that, that everything became real. That this was the first person close to me, to go away. This wasn't some obscure cousin i knew when i was four. This wasn't some person i went to high school with that maybe said three words to me during the course that i knew them. This wasn't some distant friend, relative, acquaintance, celebrity, co-worker. Instead, it was a woman that helped raise me. It was a woman who i cared for so intensly. It was a woman who helped name me when i was born. i just can't believe that i am never going to talk with her again. Never going to laugh with her ever again. It hurts so bad. Everything hurts. i just want to scream as loud as i can. i'm so angry. i'm so sad. i'm so worried. i know that i am completely rambling, but i'm just typing as it comes to my head. This isn't something i'm concerned about having sound right or nice, i just need to let some out this out. A few months back her eyesight was really going away bad, even after surgeries. She was a hardcore reader, and it's because of her mostly that i am such a bookworm myself. Anyways, well she got me hooked on Harry Potter, even though i was psychopathically anti-Potter. It's true -just ask any of my friend from high school. After weeks and weeks of coaxing, she got me to read the first chapter of the first book. Then it was a done deal--- my Auntie turned me into a Pot-Head. So when her eyes went away i went over to the house and began to read to her. i got insanely busy/lazy and never got to finish the books with her. i feel awful. i feel like an awful person. And yeah, i know..you aren't supposed to do that kind of thing when someone you love dies. i've always told other people all of those lame things like "they wouldn;t want you to feel this way...blah blah blah". i will now, never tell anyone anything even remotely like that. Because it is lame and in no way shape or form makes me feel better. i feel awful and there is nothing that can change that. i will probably always feel awful. and miss her. and wish that i could have changed something, anything. Ugh. i'm over this.

i hate that life goes on.

His name was Robert Paulson.

So i've had a freakishly strange crush on James McAvoy since he did the Narnia movie. Then he had to go and do Atonement and the obsession has gotten worse. Now there are rumors circulating that he may play Bilbo Baggins in the two hobbit movies. i would be so stoked if he did in fact play Mr. Baggins.

i'm feeling SUPER dorky right now..i've been reading up on Spiderman, The Hobbit, and Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince for an hour now. All the speculations about movies that haven't even been made yet does my antsy ass no good.

The spider who cried wolf.

i consider myself an extremely brave person. Except when it comes to two things, which i have a zero tolerance policy for.

One) Rollercoasters *anything encompassing a free fall moment combined with an upside down moment*

and

Two) Bugs *especially in the arachnid family*

i can't even kill the things. They terrify me that much. A couple of weeks ago my sister and i were getting ready to go to rehearsal at Armijo. Just as we were praising ourselves for finally being on time, my sister let out a pitiful squeal. She grabbed my arm and put herself behind me, all the while shaking and twitching like her chihuahua who was laying down in the hallway blissfully ignorant of what lay in the bathroom. i peered over to the area that my sister pointed at, and there laying on the bathroom mat was the largest spider i have ever laid eyes on in the state of California. It just sat there with its back to us, kicking it like it had rights to be there or something. Jordan and i then got into a five minute argument over who had to kill it. She found it, therefore i felt she had to kill it. i'm older, therefore she felt that i had to kill it. On and on this went until we decided to kill it together. Armed with a shoe and a spray can of poison we then fell into another two minute debate over who had to squish it with the shoe, being that neither of us could handle the sound or the feeling of the crunch of the exoskeleton. Finally i manned up an snatched the shoe from her because i was now late for work. Unfortunately, because i am such a pussy it took at least three minutes of me gaining the courage to first enter the bathroom where the spider still lay unmoved. Then it took another couple of minutes for me to walk up to the spider, freak out and scamper away, walk back into the bathroom, freak out, yell at Jordan and curse the world for planting such a creature in my home, back away from said creature, and then tip toe back into the bathroom. Finally i slammed the shoe down on the spider as hard as i possibly could. As soon as the feat was done i ran backwards, half expecting the shoe to start moving because the spider was so behemoth i figured that something as small as a shoe was no match for it. i shoved Jordan in the bathroom so she could lift the shoe and spray it with enough Raid to kill Mary-Kate Olsen. She of course made me lift the shoe, and when i did..go figure, the spider was hardly even phased by the attempt on its life. He launched in a full fledged attack on its would be murderers. Jordan and i both yelped helpessly as she sprayed and sprayed and sprayed...there was a puddle of Raid foaming up from the spot where the spider, still moving mind you, began to slow its life. i placed the shoe back on it and left a note to all warning of the spider carcass under the shoe.

When i was much younger and living with my mother and father i used to delight in killing ants. i would catch one between my fingers and rip its body in half. Yes, very disturbing and probably a sign of what sort of a person i would later become. But nevertheless i found it intriguing. i blame this infatuation on my mother. During the wet seasons, on our backyard patio there was a spot that slugs like to accumulate. My mother would grab a giant jar of salt and cackle mercilessly as she poured salt on the back half of the slug. Slowly she would sprinkle salt up the back and finally onto the head of each slug. i had to admit, i found it intriguing. Imagine being disinigrated by giants. It blew both mine and my sisters minds. A little bit later on in life after my parents had seperated and my sister and ilived with my mom. Occasionally, a spider *usually of the Daddy Long Leg variety* would creep into our home. My mom would smash it with a slipper, or whatever was handy. Then, instead of cleaning it up she would leave it there to "warn the others of their fate, if they were to lurk in our home". Sometimes she would even go so far as to put clear tape over their dead bodies. i forgot all about these incidents until about a month ago when my sister laughed about it with me. i find this so interesting because about two years ago i was painting my new room. The window had no screen on it, but i had to have the window open because getting high on fumes is only fun for so long. As a result mosquitos kept creeping in and landing on the ceiling that i was painting. So i painted over the stupid asses and laughed maniacally all the while telling my father that i was doing so to ward off anymore bugs from coming in. It's crazy how things carry on though time much to our ignorance of doing so.

Anyway - - Today while doing laundry i noticed not two inches away from my naked foot was a gigantic wolf spider. i panicked. Completely panicked. i grabbed a giant jug of bleach and poured almost the whole bottle on the fucker. In the process of doing so i ruined my favorite shirt and still didn't manage to kill the bastard. He scurried under the washing machine while i ran away. i then hopped on the internet to try and figure out how to fix the current situation. Apparently, wolf spiders in the home are VERY common for the Fall, because they're looking for a warm place to live. They are very non-aggressive, and they lay eggs that attach to their bodies..when the eggs hatch the babies stay attached to the mother...FUCKING SICK! i would lose it if i saw this.




Fucking christ...i dunno what i'm gonna do if i have to deal with anymore of these creatures!

Sunday!

Damn - that's a good one. i am feeling more accomplished right now then i have in a very long time. The sememster is almost done, thank you god. After i get done with my last final i am going to go on the craziest trip in the world, i think. i'm going to go crazy.

Barack Obama won the election last week. i wasn't really gung ho for the guy until a few days before the voting took place. i was fully intending on voting for him, but only because Sarah Palin terrified me. What changed my mind to really be intot he dude was when he did the interview on the Daily Show a few days before the election. It was kinda cool to see him as a normal human being. It's kind of hard to listen to everything he has to say. Being an American woman from the time period i'm from has rendered me slightly more than skeptical of anything that just about anyone has to say, whether it's regarding politics or the weather. So for someone to come in and say that he is going to try to fix the mess that has been created over the past decade or so just sounds completely ridiculous and totally full of shit. It was near impossible for me to believe him. i just figured he was an amazing public speaker and he was sputtering flowers from his mouth so people would vote democratic. But after the interview with the Daily Show, i looked at him for the first time and thought that maybe i could think somewhat positive for a change. Maybe this guy was for real. Maybe he did want things to be different and for the better. Maybe he didn't just want to get into power for his own financial gain. Maybe he wasn't his parties puppet with the strings being tweaked around by large corporate businesses. So i voted for him, and not just cause the Alaskan woman with the hairpieces scared me. Here's hoping things work out for him. It'll be just too much for the struggling optimist in me to take if it turns out he was full of shit the whole time.