Monday, May 10, 2010
Welcome To The Black Parade
so my mom's funeral and stuff was pretty well outlined. but there was some bullshit to be dealt with that still hasn't been dealt with… not down. but anyway. this made me realize that i have very, very specific ideas about what i want for my funeral.
firstly, it has to be called a funeral. it's not a memorial service, and it's not a celebration of my life. it's a funeral. nice and fucking morbid.
there have to be flowers. dying red roses only. maybe some white ones. the white ones have to be alive though. but mostly red. and mostly half dead. nice and crispy.
the most prominent colour has to be black. because a. it's morbid and makes people uncomfortable, since it's a funeral. and b. it's my favourite colour.
there has to be a human skull somewhere… just for fun. =3.
if someone even mentions god in any way other than, "oh my god" i will come back from the dead and fucking haunt them. nothing religious. it has to be a party.
there has to be a dress-code. anything goes as long as it is black. NO. BRIGHT. COLOURS. especially not yellow. because it's fugly.
no alcohol. no meat. everything has to be vegan. and there has to be red velvet cupcakes with black frosting. and cake. with black frosting. actually. black fondant.
just really awkwardly unpleasant halloween type shit. things i'd love.
there has to be music and i insist upon strobe lights. about the music… nothing spiritual. nothing religious. rammstein and dance music. and by dance music, i mean whatever i have on my computer in my dancey playlists.
as for my body, burn it and make me into a daisy garden. irony at its finest. <3
OH. WAIT. I LIED. it can't be called a funeral. it has to be a "death day party". please and thank you.
firstly, it has to be called a funeral. it's not a memorial service, and it's not a celebration of my life. it's a funeral. nice and fucking morbid.
there have to be flowers. dying red roses only. maybe some white ones. the white ones have to be alive though. but mostly red. and mostly half dead. nice and crispy.
the most prominent colour has to be black. because a. it's morbid and makes people uncomfortable, since it's a funeral. and b. it's my favourite colour.
there has to be a human skull somewhere… just for fun. =3.
if someone even mentions god in any way other than, "oh my god" i will come back from the dead and fucking haunt them. nothing religious. it has to be a party.
there has to be a dress-code. anything goes as long as it is black. NO. BRIGHT. COLOURS. especially not yellow. because it's fugly.
no alcohol. no meat. everything has to be vegan. and there has to be red velvet cupcakes with black frosting. and cake. with black frosting. actually. black fondant.
just really awkwardly unpleasant halloween type shit. things i'd love.
there has to be music and i insist upon strobe lights. about the music… nothing spiritual. nothing religious. rammstein and dance music. and by dance music, i mean whatever i have on my computer in my dancey playlists.
as for my body, burn it and make me into a daisy garden. irony at its finest. <3
OH. WAIT. I LIED. it can't be called a funeral. it has to be a "death day party". please and thank you.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Not So Smitten For The Mitten
I've been in Michigan so much over the last few weeks. And it's really taught me something.
And that is that I really, really, don't like being here.
I've pretty much been homesick since I got here. All I can think about is getting back to Toronto. Tomorrow night... can't wait.
I love the idea of Michigan, but actually having to be here for any length of time is like the opposite of fun for me. Booums. I want to go home.
And that is that I really, really, don't like being here.
I've pretty much been homesick since I got here. All I can think about is getting back to Toronto. Tomorrow night... can't wait.
I love the idea of Michigan, but actually having to be here for any length of time is like the opposite of fun for me. Booums. I want to go home.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
The Thirst
I'm hungry. Actually. I'm starving. And I just ate.
Well. I'm even eating now. And I'm still hungry.
I'm always hungry. I eat. And get full. And then a little while later, I'm hungry again.
It's like being a pregnant whale or something. Maybe an elephant. Something that eats all the time.
But anyway. I seriously kinda think I'm a vampire. Not like... the kind in books who eat people. The real kind who have like... deficiencies that make them constantly hungry or whatever. So... I don't think it's hunger. I think it's the thirst.
I am crazy, but not the way you're thinking. Thanks =P
Well. I'm even eating now. And I'm still hungry.
I'm always hungry. I eat. And get full. And then a little while later, I'm hungry again.
It's like being a pregnant whale or something. Maybe an elephant. Something that eats all the time.
But anyway. I seriously kinda think I'm a vampire. Not like... the kind in books who eat people. The real kind who have like... deficiencies that make them constantly hungry or whatever. So... I don't think it's hunger. I think it's the thirst.
I am crazy, but not the way you're thinking. Thanks =P
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Important Lessons
Some of the most important lessons I've ever learnt were taught to me by Albus Dumbledore.
"You think the dead we love ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble?" - Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.
"You think the dead we love ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble?" - Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.
So My Mother Died.
She died. On Monday. April 26th, 2010... at some point after 5:14 eastern standard time. I know this because I talked to her then. Possibly about my new skirt and glasses.
But anyway. She died. And is now dead. As I like to think of it, she died. Because she did die. I have no issue with the fact that she died. Death is a completely natural part of life. I guess I have odd views on death. I mean. I don't think they're odd. I think my way of thinking is... possibly unique, but certainly not wrong. It's a bold, truthful, possibly brave way of thinking.
I feel that most peoples' perception of death is one of sheer terror. They're afraid to let go, and afraid of the unknown. I do not fear letting go and I do not fear the unknown. In fact, the unknown is one of few things that isn't boring to me. BECAUSE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD EVERYTHING ELSE IS BORING AS FUCK. Except maybe good music and roller coasters. Oh. And riding my bike. Riding my bike is never boring. I mean. Obviously I'm generalizing here, obviously I don't find EVERYTHING boring, or I would have offed myself by now as I cannot stand to be bored. But for the most part, things are boring. I want to be an adventurer, an explorer (I once told someone I wanted to be an explorer, and she said, "oh! a geologist!" And I was just thinking, no, you twit. An explorer. Like fucking Cortez or Magellan. So bad ass.), something where you get to discover things that NO ONE else has seen or experienced before. I want to be a pioneer. I want to do something first.
I do not fear letting go, because I have discovered that in order to move on, you really, really need to just let go. You can't truly have fun on a roller coaster if you're frightened and hanging on. You need to throw your arms up and let go. I learnt this when I was 13 on the Rock N Roller Coaster at MGM Orlando. I've never held on while on a roller coaster since that moment. It's so much freer just letting go. My goal in life is to move around a lot, suddenly, and easily. In order to do this, I need to let go of things. When I first moved out of my parents house, I had SO much stuff that I thought I needed. But really... I don't need all of those things. What I needed was to just let go. Moving around the Toronto area several times has really helped me learn this. Each time I move, I get rid of more and more things. In fact, I'm feeling rather cramped of late and when I get home from Michigan next weekend, I'll probably do a purge of my apartment and get rid of all the extra stuff that I really do not need. Just breathe and let go. It hurts so much less than you think.
People like to make death pretty. They use euphemisms. Such as, passed on, went to a better place, departed, perished, etc., etc. But really. Death isn't pretty. It's kind of like shitting. Pretty gross, if you think about it. Like really, death is just a natural part of life in which organ systems shut down and then begin to decompose. They decompose, and rot, and are eaten away by bacteria. It is smelly. It is rather gruesome. But it's completely natural. It's just what happens. I don't understand why people have such issues with this.
I think the worst part of having someone you know and are close to die is having people ask you, "how are you holding up?". Like I'm an unsteady tree-house or something. I absolutely cannot stand that question. It just sounds so fucking patronizing. And I know it's meant well... but to be honest, I'm pretty sure the holocaust was meant well too. Well. I mean. Meant to better the German economy or whatever. Good intentions... terrible execution. That was totally not meant as a bad pun, by the way. But really. I'd just like to quote Jurassic Park here. Because I'm totally ghey for JP. "With the best intentions? Some of the worst things imaginable have been done with the best intentions. You know what, Billy? As far as I'm concerned, you're no better than the people that built this place." - Alan Grant, Jurassic Park III.
And also, "how are you holding up?" just sounds so assumptive. I hate assumptions. Because when people make them about me, they're usually wrong and I find them offensive. Asking me how I'm holding up is like you're assuming that this is a really hard thing for me to go though. And while the initial shock of it was rather unpleasant, that really only lasted like... a day. The initial shock of finding out my mother died. Shock. Shock. Shock. I dislike shock. The only type of scary movies I actually find frightening are the ones where shit pops out and shocks you. I dislike sudden surprises. When I first found out that my dog died when I was 15, I cried for about 10 minutes. I didn't even fucking like that dog, but shock is rather painful. And by "didn't like" I mean "passionately disliked". When I first found out my mom died, I cried on and off for a day and a half, maybe. The shock is that, oh god, I suddenly have to let go of this thing that I wasn't ready to let go of. But you get used to the idea and you let go.
But really, all I'm letting go of is my mom's physical being. Which... if we're all honest with ourselves, was rather broken of late anyway. I let go of my mom a while ago. She got a disease and changed from the woman who I knew as a child, and turned into someone else who I knew as a teenager. But really, her body was a burden. It was definitely a burden on her. It made it hard for her to get around (which she really liked doing), kept her in constant pain, and just made things difficult in general. And not going to lie because she's dead or whatever. It was for sure a burden on me. Because I'm lazy and really didn't enjoy having to carry her walker around for her when she would come visit me. You try maneuvering a walker up and down street car steps and see how much you enjoy it. Seriously. Do it. Feel my pain. And sure, some of you may be judging me. But you're not me. You've never done this. And I don't care what you think, to be honest.
All a body is is a barrier. An avatar for the soul. A trap. Bodies have limits that spirits do not. You can't go anywhere at any time just because you want to. You can't know everything. You can't fly. You can't feel completely free no matter how naked and outside you are, although skinny dipping in warm water probably comes pretty close. You can't be with everyone you love all the time no matter where you are or where they are or how much you want to. A body is just something to keep you in.
Well my mom doesn't have a body anymore. She's completely free. Free to be with me all the time. Free to know everything ever. Free to fly, to swim, to travel through time and space. Free of responsibility and social courtesies. She doesn't have to be polite. She doesn't have to tolerate anything. I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty jealous. Not like... suicidal "I'M SO JEALOUS I'LL KILL MYSELF" kind of jealous. But really. How fun would that be? I mean. Really. Really? You know you want to. Shit, I want to! I'm looking forward to death as half way between the final adventure of my life, and the first adventure of... whatever else there is. I'll just quote Peter Pan here... "To die will be an awfully big adventure".
So yeah. My mom died suddenly. And probably rather painlessly. It wasn't drawn out as her disease got worse, and worse. It wasn't slow as she just deteriorated. Pretty good death, I think. And now, since she's free of her body, she's more with me than she ever was while she was trapped in flesh. I'm not sorry she died. Of course I'll miss hearing her voice, and seeing her smile, but I have a good memory, and I won't forget these things. Don't feel sorry for me. Because feeling sorry for me implies that you think she's gone. Which she isn't. And if you think so, well, I feel sorry for you since you clearly can't feel her, which sucks because she's easy to feel and she's everywhere now.
I guess my views are unique. But really. I'm not in pain. I'm not struggling. I'm fine. I'm content. And you can judge me all you want, but know that it won't bother me and know that I know you only judge because you don't understand.
And if you don't understand, I pity you, because I feel just fine, and you might not. Sucks to be you I guess. Maybe I sound pretentious...
If so, it's because I am pretentious. Oh well. I am what I am. And either way, no matter what, my mom loves me. And I for sure love my mom.
But anyway. She died. And is now dead. As I like to think of it, she died. Because she did die. I have no issue with the fact that she died. Death is a completely natural part of life. I guess I have odd views on death. I mean. I don't think they're odd. I think my way of thinking is... possibly unique, but certainly not wrong. It's a bold, truthful, possibly brave way of thinking.
I feel that most peoples' perception of death is one of sheer terror. They're afraid to let go, and afraid of the unknown. I do not fear letting go and I do not fear the unknown. In fact, the unknown is one of few things that isn't boring to me. BECAUSE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD EVERYTHING ELSE IS BORING AS FUCK. Except maybe good music and roller coasters. Oh. And riding my bike. Riding my bike is never boring. I mean. Obviously I'm generalizing here, obviously I don't find EVERYTHING boring, or I would have offed myself by now as I cannot stand to be bored. But for the most part, things are boring. I want to be an adventurer, an explorer (I once told someone I wanted to be an explorer, and she said, "oh! a geologist!" And I was just thinking, no, you twit. An explorer. Like fucking Cortez or Magellan. So bad ass.), something where you get to discover things that NO ONE else has seen or experienced before. I want to be a pioneer. I want to do something first.
I do not fear letting go, because I have discovered that in order to move on, you really, really need to just let go. You can't truly have fun on a roller coaster if you're frightened and hanging on. You need to throw your arms up and let go. I learnt this when I was 13 on the Rock N Roller Coaster at MGM Orlando. I've never held on while on a roller coaster since that moment. It's so much freer just letting go. My goal in life is to move around a lot, suddenly, and easily. In order to do this, I need to let go of things. When I first moved out of my parents house, I had SO much stuff that I thought I needed. But really... I don't need all of those things. What I needed was to just let go. Moving around the Toronto area several times has really helped me learn this. Each time I move, I get rid of more and more things. In fact, I'm feeling rather cramped of late and when I get home from Michigan next weekend, I'll probably do a purge of my apartment and get rid of all the extra stuff that I really do not need. Just breathe and let go. It hurts so much less than you think.
People like to make death pretty. They use euphemisms. Such as, passed on, went to a better place, departed, perished, etc., etc. But really. Death isn't pretty. It's kind of like shitting. Pretty gross, if you think about it. Like really, death is just a natural part of life in which organ systems shut down and then begin to decompose. They decompose, and rot, and are eaten away by bacteria. It is smelly. It is rather gruesome. But it's completely natural. It's just what happens. I don't understand why people have such issues with this.
I think the worst part of having someone you know and are close to die is having people ask you, "how are you holding up?". Like I'm an unsteady tree-house or something. I absolutely cannot stand that question. It just sounds so fucking patronizing. And I know it's meant well... but to be honest, I'm pretty sure the holocaust was meant well too. Well. I mean. Meant to better the German economy or whatever. Good intentions... terrible execution. That was totally not meant as a bad pun, by the way. But really. I'd just like to quote Jurassic Park here. Because I'm totally ghey for JP. "With the best intentions? Some of the worst things imaginable have been done with the best intentions. You know what, Billy? As far as I'm concerned, you're no better than the people that built this place." - Alan Grant, Jurassic Park III.
And also, "how are you holding up?" just sounds so assumptive. I hate assumptions. Because when people make them about me, they're usually wrong and I find them offensive. Asking me how I'm holding up is like you're assuming that this is a really hard thing for me to go though. And while the initial shock of it was rather unpleasant, that really only lasted like... a day. The initial shock of finding out my mother died. Shock. Shock. Shock. I dislike shock. The only type of scary movies I actually find frightening are the ones where shit pops out and shocks you. I dislike sudden surprises. When I first found out that my dog died when I was 15, I cried for about 10 minutes. I didn't even fucking like that dog, but shock is rather painful. And by "didn't like" I mean "passionately disliked". When I first found out my mom died, I cried on and off for a day and a half, maybe. The shock is that, oh god, I suddenly have to let go of this thing that I wasn't ready to let go of. But you get used to the idea and you let go.
But really, all I'm letting go of is my mom's physical being. Which... if we're all honest with ourselves, was rather broken of late anyway. I let go of my mom a while ago. She got a disease and changed from the woman who I knew as a child, and turned into someone else who I knew as a teenager. But really, her body was a burden. It was definitely a burden on her. It made it hard for her to get around (which she really liked doing), kept her in constant pain, and just made things difficult in general. And not going to lie because she's dead or whatever. It was for sure a burden on me. Because I'm lazy and really didn't enjoy having to carry her walker around for her when she would come visit me. You try maneuvering a walker up and down street car steps and see how much you enjoy it. Seriously. Do it. Feel my pain. And sure, some of you may be judging me. But you're not me. You've never done this. And I don't care what you think, to be honest.
All a body is is a barrier. An avatar for the soul. A trap. Bodies have limits that spirits do not. You can't go anywhere at any time just because you want to. You can't know everything. You can't fly. You can't feel completely free no matter how naked and outside you are, although skinny dipping in warm water probably comes pretty close. You can't be with everyone you love all the time no matter where you are or where they are or how much you want to. A body is just something to keep you in.
Well my mom doesn't have a body anymore. She's completely free. Free to be with me all the time. Free to know everything ever. Free to fly, to swim, to travel through time and space. Free of responsibility and social courtesies. She doesn't have to be polite. She doesn't have to tolerate anything. I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty jealous. Not like... suicidal "I'M SO JEALOUS I'LL KILL MYSELF" kind of jealous. But really. How fun would that be? I mean. Really. Really? You know you want to. Shit, I want to! I'm looking forward to death as half way between the final adventure of my life, and the first adventure of... whatever else there is. I'll just quote Peter Pan here... "To die will be an awfully big adventure".
So yeah. My mom died suddenly. And probably rather painlessly. It wasn't drawn out as her disease got worse, and worse. It wasn't slow as she just deteriorated. Pretty good death, I think. And now, since she's free of her body, she's more with me than she ever was while she was trapped in flesh. I'm not sorry she died. Of course I'll miss hearing her voice, and seeing her smile, but I have a good memory, and I won't forget these things. Don't feel sorry for me. Because feeling sorry for me implies that you think she's gone. Which she isn't. And if you think so, well, I feel sorry for you since you clearly can't feel her, which sucks because she's easy to feel and she's everywhere now.
I guess my views are unique. But really. I'm not in pain. I'm not struggling. I'm fine. I'm content. And you can judge me all you want, but know that it won't bother me and know that I know you only judge because you don't understand.
And if you don't understand, I pity you, because I feel just fine, and you might not. Sucks to be you I guess. Maybe I sound pretentious...
If so, it's because I am pretentious. Oh well. I am what I am. And either way, no matter what, my mom loves me. And I for sure love my mom.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
