I'm inexplicably and irrationally, ridiculously sad about his death.

Like, obviously I realize that death is sad in general, but I'm not really upset when it happens to most people. Especially people I don't know.

But I'm just so very sad that he's not alive anymore.

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.

After The Eulogy

This morning Mum and I went to Aunt Pat's funeral. In my humble opinion, funerals are the worst thing on earth... just short of silverfish, getting blood drawn, and seeing people throw up.

When my mum was in nursing school, Pat was her roommate, and then they started dating and had grand drinking adventures, such as bringing a full body resuscitation anne dressed in the school uniform to the bar with them and then getting caught while sneaking it back in. My parents were at the conception of Pat's son, Jesse. A bit awkward I guess. But apparently they decided to have a party to artificially inseminate Kris, so my cousin was conceived surrounded by lesbians.

I was born in Seattle, and when we moved to Michigan when I was two weeks old, we lived at Pat and Kris' house. We had Canadian Thanksgiving at their house, went over every Christmas to exchange presents, had birthday parties together, and sometimes went over for dinner just for fun while I was growing up. Pat and Kris were basically second parents and my mum is one of Jesse's many godmothers.

Until today, I hadn't seen any of them for about five years. Last time I saw Aunt Pat, I never thought it would be the last time I would ever see her in my life. I can't stand the fact that I'm never going to see her again. I'll never get to hug her, and I will never hear her laugh again, and Aunt Pat was ALWAYS laughing; her laugh stands out among all my other memories of her. I missed her before she died, words pale in comparison to my current feelings. I kind of just expected her to walk in laughing at the funeral, just for fun, it's really hard to believe that she's gone.

My mother discovered my "Imperio" tattoo at the funeral which was slightly comical. I was adjusting my bracelets and she glanced down and asked, "What's that?" Thinking she was talking about one of my new bracelets which has a scorpion encased in glow in the dark resin, I said, "A scorpion." She grabbed my hand, turned it over and stared at my wrist for a minute. Oh. That. She didn't ask, just sort of shook her head.

There was a reception sort of thing back at their house. The food was epic. I walked in and wondered aloud if there was anything I could eat, and at least five people started pointing out things that were vegan. I was like, how did you know? It was a little crazy. Afterward, I stood around with mum while she talked to a bunch of people about how my mother's brain is deteriorating. Pleasant. I just love thinking about it, especially after a funeral. When my parents die, I probably wont go to the funerals. I don't think I could stand it.

I came home and danced around my room naked to Rihanna's "Disturbia" I seriously love that song.

Whenever I Want You, All I Have To Do Is Dream

So this morning I woke up at a decent hour and got dressed in a flash and ran out to the car and we drove up to Boulder Creek to get our nails done. Mine are dark blue with sparkles; pretty ace.

Anyway, on the way back, I decided I wanted my hair done. We had Mexican for lunch, well, I had chips. Then we went to the redwood forrest for a little bit and didn't walk around since it was too cold, but I climbed up on this huge sign and my mom took my picture on it.

We got back into town and stopped off at the local cosmetology school to see if I could get my hair done. I could! This hot metal chick named Grace did my hair. She had some ace tattoos, including a huge elaborate spade right over her throat. She said she had gotten some Johnny Thunders lyrics on her ribs and that hurt so badly that everything else is a walk in the park. I don't care. I still want Psalm 23 down the right side of my ribcage and something else on the other side as well.

I guess I've decided to fuck it all, because I've got my hawk back. Haha... I can't seem to stay away from it. I love it though. The whole process took three hours! First she shaved it back into a hawk because it was uneven and the sides had gotten long. Anyway, we bleached it all out, died the top red, coon-tailed the fringe red and black, and then put black zebra stripes on the sides. It's aces high and a half. Pictures coming later. Anyway, my online buddy Kate came in while I was looking super dorky with foil all in my face so we finally got to meet which was totally stellar. She was great.

Anyway, I hung out at home on facebook for a bit before discovering that my sort-of aunt Pat died yesterday morning. I was horrified because it was totally unexpected, I'm basically half a world away right now, and she really helped raise me. She and my mum were roommates in nursing school before they started dating and then they were best friends after that. But we haven't been as close in recent years, but when my "cousin" Jesse and I were young, we always went over there Christmas afternoon. I'm really going to miss her. She was always a lot of fun when we did see each other. Mum and I are going to the funeral since I'll be back by then.

I made some fierce bread pudding while talking on the phone to my awkward uncle Dave. He's so great. I haven't talked to him in forever, but we really get each other and when I'm home, I'll be calling him a lot I think since it's free as we both have Verizon, besides, he's really a laugh. He's a guitar player/computer programer and a total paranoid pessimist. I love him. Anyway, he's coming for Christmas which should be really great. I'm excited!

I'm totally jet lagged still, which I'm pretty stoked about because I'd rather not adjust to this time zone, thank you very much. I'll be sleeping now.

...it's me.

I was going to write a great blog today about how I had a really exciting day for once...

And then I found out that my aunt who, when I was little, was basically another parent to me, died yesterday morning.

But maybe later I'll feel up to writing about how great my day was.