I don't write it the way I want it. But I'll do it anyways.

I have been mulling the contents of this posts over in my mind for the past week and a half, almost. Several times over, I have decided against even writing this due to the fact that grief paralyzes any writing skill I possess. I hate to even risk cheapening the way I feel with some words that spill out of some part of me. There is no objectivity here, there is no sarcastic defense for me to fall back on. But I think it is necessary that I write about this, because I can think of nothing more important. So here I am, trying.

For those who know me, they know that I had a child named Zoe. Although she was the product of something violent and without-consent, she was beautiful and I would have had her no other way. Zoe had a severe birth defect called Hydranencephaly, a defect where one's cerebellum and brain stem were intact, but the cerebrum was missing and in it's place was cerebro-spinal fluid. Upon prenatal diagnosis, my family was informed that this defect was incompatible with life, and she was sure to die before birth.
When she was born, we were told that she would not live past a few days, and did not have the ability to suck a bottle, or even learn at all. But Zoe was always a bit of a stubborn girl and learned how to suck a bottle, and although she was only expected to live a week, she lived nearly a year and five months.
Zoe passed away last tuesday in her grandfather's arms.
And the grief, at times, is overwhelming to the point of surreality.
Since then several friends have asked me how I feel. I have lost my child, sometimes I feel as if I could not be truly happy ever again. I know that this is the dynamics of grief, but that does not make it seem any less honest. I am inconsolable, and I miss her. I miss her crooked smile, playing the hands game with her, watching ER on the couch every morning with her, watching her yawn, seeing her grimace every time I fed her a green colored baby food.. I miss putting on her pajamas, and her powdery smell.
And even though there were times that loving her meant accepting a part of my life that was hurtful and nightmarish, I loved her like any mother would love their baby.
She was the closest thing to perfect I have ever touched, or loved.. and she taught me how to love myself in spite of my guilt and faults.
Zoe taught me that somethings things happen in our lives that are unexpected, and unasked for, but these things shape us in every definable, tangible, and intangible way.

And sometimes I do not even know what I feel. I just feel... Mostly I am just grief-stricken, or angry. Anger is a funny thing when it becomes a result of loss. But we are all wild when we take to another arms.. later realizing we would have it no other way.
I am devastated, and I am furious... but I am thankful. I am thankful she was ours..

The days do not get easier, there are just bad days and good days.. It has not reached a progressive stage yet. Sometimes I come across a sock, or a bonnet, or a little plastic spoon..or even a baby food label, and I weep because sometimes it feels so unfair... And sometimes I miss her so much, I can hardly stand it. I miss her chubby toes, and multiple chins. I miss her crazy red hair (the shark fin) and her pretty blue eyes. My god, she was so pretty.

I just wish this were more coherent.. and explained half of the enormity of what I feel. I am less without her.
i love you more than these stupid words.. I love you more than anything, my littlest girl.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home

I swear to God I just saw Steven Spielberg in a beat up Chevy truck. He stopped right next to me at an intersection on University. It was Stephen, I could tell by the facial hair growth.

'Someone call 9-1-1, this man is unconcious!"

Needless to say, I have been busy with school, etc. and have not been able to write in here very much. An excess of interesting and humorous events have not occurred, so I do not even have all to much to write about. However, I will find something to talk about, as usual..

In regards to The Juggernaut, lately it has been making this "Squeeee!" noise. This noise is not simply restricted to acceleration, or braking; it is a constant,"SQUUEE!!!" and frankly, I would find it mildly embarrassing if I cared anything for this particular automotive. Speaking of all things vehicular, eventually I am going to attempt to learn how to drive a standard so that I may rapidly destroy the transmission of another car. (Actually, I have no idea if shifting and transmissions have a direct correlation. Oh well.)

For the past two weeks I have been battling some sort of disease, I don't know which one. Last week during (geez, these are great shrimp I am eating.. just had to interject that)our mardi gras break I decided to come up with a 101 temperature, and a sore throat. Of course I put off going to the doctor.. um, because I do that. After three days the temperature and the worst part of the sore throat was gone, I thought I has just cheated strep.. or something. More currently, yesterday I woke up with a swollen throat and a high fever. Here I come, shot of penicillin on my right butt-cheek.. Fantastic. What is better about this whole situation, I passed this to my mother, so now I am not alone in my throat-misery. She may now writhe in agony as we both try and swallow macaroni-n-cheese.

Lastly, I am officially Adult/Child/Infant CPR, and first aid certified! Slantz and I woke up at the proverbial "buttcrack" of dawn and drove to the Red Cross center. May I just say that we has one of the best classmated EVER. For the story's sake, I am naming her Latressa. Yes, of course I am being facetious. Latressa was ridiculous. First of all, her hair was reminiscent of a porcupine with gold highlights; these highlights matched her "Ali Babba" type footwear, and very "attractive" gold tooth. She came in late, and then our teacher was talking about the importance of CPR etc. and our classmate's phone rings. Not only does she ignore it for the first few rings, she actually ANSWERS it in the middle of a lecture!
..What?! She does this twice, throughout adult CPR.
Then after this, Slantz and I are sitting at our table watching the CPR video (or something), and I hear something that sounds like a freight train, right next to me. I look over in the direction of the noise, low and behold Latressa has rested her head on her own bosom, and is snoring. Upon performing CPR on her dummy, she falls on top of it.
I love these sort of individuals, they make me realize that I am not always as unintelligent as I may occasionally feel. At least I do not trip, while stationary on my knees delivering CPR to a dying mannequin.

Embrace the truck that you are.

Last week, in my AP I, class... the creepy know it all guy, struck again. I think by just hearing this conversation, my IQ dropped a few points. This is the conversation, and yes, again, in screenwriting style.

CKIAG
Don't humans breathe in carbon
dioxide, and breathe out carbon monxide?

Teacher
..No. Not at all. We breathe in
oxygen and our bodies expel carbon dioxide.

(beat)

In fact, our bodies completely
reject both of these gases..

CKIAG
(haughtily)
Well, I heard some chemical reaction
can take place in the body that
allows for us to do this.

Teacher
(disbelievingly)
No.. this can not biologically occur.

CKIAG
(now angry)
Yes it can!

Teacher
(even more so disbelivingly)
No..

(beat)

No, it can't.

It went on like this for, no joke, about two whole minutes. And yes, for some reason I can not get out of italics.
I do not claim to be any sort of expert on biology, or anatomy, nor physiology.. But honestly, if we happened to respire carbon monoxide, global warming would come as no surprise and every human being on earth should possibly plunge their bodies off a tall building/mountain/bridge. I do no know any case where carbon monoxide did the human body much good.

Of course I am no narcissistic radiologist major, so I could be wrong.

Valentine's Day is coming up. I plan on engorging myself on my mother's candy that she receives from her students, as any self-respecting teachers daughter would do. I am proud to do my part for commercialism.

New on screenwriting:

Last Wednesday we had to deliver our movie pitch to the class. Again my suspicions that only crazed sci-fi freaks, and crazies in general, were reaffirmed as the other nine of my classmates pitched their story.

These are what SENIORS, and GRADUATE STUDENTS came up with.

1) A scientist is on a ski-trip with his brother, and his brother is accidentally killed in the process (I suppose by flying headfirst into a duck.. or mountain goat... depends on what kind of skiing we are doing). A few years later, scientists finds out how to harness the power of a solar flare to go back in time to save his brother, where he finds out his brother was being used a pawn in a terrorist plot.

Wow, solar flares!

2) **this one is animated.. more specifically it is ANIME!** Moses the cat-detective must fight to unite the dog and cat world before the sewer rats come out from the depths to take over! (Comes complete with a sexy lady-cat, who poses a possible romantic relationship)

3) A man is a vigilante pedophile killer, who brutalizes the pedophiles and broadcasts the torture over the internet as a warning to the other pedophiles. This business is going great, until the biggest-baddest-pedophile kidnaps about 5 kids, and is taunting the pedophile killer with this, with similar pirated-internet broadcasts.

..What?

4) A girl must choose between love and money, when her family's flooring business goes under. She may either pick the love of her life, or the guy that can save her family business.

Not only is this unoriginal... it's flooring.

5) A good girl, has had bad luck all of her life. She is currently working at a world commerce bank and just happens to be sitting next to Moira; aka the mother of the three fates. (mmhmm.) Moira fills out a report of this bad luck for the girl, to Karma (yes, karma has been personified). Karma has misfiled something, and now this good girl has been stuck with someone elses bad karma.

Cheesy! But at least no solar flares.

6) The world is a wasteland, and a pregnant woman is captured by a group of rebels, then sold into slavery.. but not before she births a boy. Boy is raised as a rebel in this group, then finds out about his mother. He is now on a quest for revenge, and to save his long lost mother.

One question.. is Kevin Costner or Mel Gibson in this movie?

8) An agoraphobic murder-mystery novelist is forced to go out and solve one of her own mysteries, when a murder seems to be manifested from her very own pages. Really, it is her other twin brothers (they were triplets, her mother liked her the best.. so she gave the last two triplets to some aunt.. ?? wait.. what?) who are enraged with her success and now must kill.

okay. Hey, what happened to the italics?

9) A hitchhiker that kills the people that pick him up, is picked up by a man who kills the hitchikers he picks up. Now they join forces and go on a killing spree.

It had some comic potential until they go on a killing spree, instead of going around trying to kill each other.. ..very King Kong vs. Godzilla, Freddy vs. Jason.. Rosie vs. Trump?

I do not claim to be a great screenwriter of any sort, my pitch was somewhat Royal Tennenbaum'esque'... But I did expect a little more from graduate students.

And after we pitched our stories, we were individually asked to talk about someone else's movie that interested us the most, no one picked mine. I do not take this personally, since I am the "outsider" of the class, seeing as how I came in on the second part of this course, and Lakeman talks to me the most.

The only feedback i received from my classmates was:

*stare*

"That's complex."

Thanks guys.

And above you will see weave we found in a gas station parking lot.

Ich bin die Hammster

I resort to apologies again, because I have been pretty busy with school work. Frankly, I am glad I did not get a job this semester, I do not think I would have been able to find any sort of balance between the two, and have some left for a remaining extra-curricular being. In other words; here I am in my non-being functional in the economy- glory.

Unfortunately, yet again, I do not exactly have the time to write anything that would be entirely of interest. I need to go re-study for an Anatomy and Physiology lab on pH I have this afternoon. I think it would be great if in the middle of said lab, I could call my sister and have someone other than "creepy know-it-all" guy as a lab partner.

I do, however, have time to elaborate on "creepy know-it-all" guy. I will be telling this story in Screenwriting format, in order to get some practice in. To give some background on this peevish character, he is that weird guy we know that shouts out random answers in class, using what he thinks is an extensive medical vocabulary, and acts as if they have all the answers to all the question.. and 99.9% of the time, they are wrong.. and 99.8% of the time, they will protest the professor for rejecting their answer.

INT. ANATOMY PHYSIOLOGY CLASSROOM

DINA walks into room 260, a large auditorium-like room in which an Anatomy and Physiology I class is being held. Class has not started yet, and she files up the center aisle in order to make it to the top, backmost, row where she habitually sits. She passes the row directly below the row she sits on. CREEPY KNOW-IT-ALL GUY (CKIAG) is sitting here, and watches as she sits.

CKIAG
So.. How are you today?

DINA
(politely)
Fine, thank you. Happy it's friday.

CKIAG
Oh yes, at least it is not Monday.

DINA
ha.. Well, you're right. It's not monday.

CKIAG
I'm going to come sit by you. I hope that's okay

By this time CKIAG is already seated in the seat right next to her.

CKIAG (CONT'D)
(dripping with narcissism)
I'm a chemistry wiz. I guess I had to come
and learn the biological aspects of chemisty,
you know.. because I might need to know that,
seeing as how I am a radiology major.

DINA
(feigning interest)
Really, that's nice. I really dislike most
chemistry. Well, at least in highschool I ---

CKIAG
(cutting her off)
Yes, you see; I had brothers who were 15
years older than me. So I began to defend myself, chemically.

(beat)

DINA
..Chemically.

CKIAG
I would put vinegar and baking soda in
my dogs mouth and sic him on my brothers.
It was hilarious, he looked rabid.
Ahahaha! Ahhaa!

(beat)

DINA
Oh. Poor dog, yeah?

CKIAG
Not really, it was hilarious.

(beat)

DINA

Oh. I have a younger brother who--

CKIAG
(cutting her off again)
I know all the cuts of the body. This is the
saggital cut of the body, right here.

At this point CKIAG begins to run his hang along DINA'S shoulder. Dina scoots to the edge of her seat immediately.

DINA
Okay, well, yes.

CKIAG
(again with the narcissism)
I don't think I could ever be a teacher.

DINA
(trying to make it a two sided conversation)
Really? My mother is a teach--

CKIAG
Because for the past four or five years
I have been taking young boys out
into the wilderness, and teaching them
how to shoot guns; you know, defend
themselves in the rugged wild.

(Beat)

DINA
Uh. Wow, that's really.. Unique?

CKIAG
I stoppped, I wanted to have some teaching
left in me, for when I have children.

(beat)

DINA
..
......
Yes?

By this time in the conversation, class has started, and momentarily CKIAG is quiet. Unfortunately, all throughout class, he interrupts her notes, in attempts to explain the most mundane of biological anatomy to her. (E.g. The rate of an enzyme reaction.)

END

Anyways.. I am not sure what it is about me that the strange ones like. I did not know I wore my own signs of "weirdness" so blatently.

(Beat) I like cheese?

I apologize, since school has started I have not had much time to myself to sit and write. This will not be long at all either, mostly this is just a note that I have not forgotten about my fun, little blog I have got going on in here.

My schedule, and opinion for this semester is as follows:

Computer Applications - (I hate this online class with passion. I have a feeling my teacher dislikes me as well. We participate in weekly discussion, and it seems that my humorous sarcasm is not understood by all. Honestly though, something needs to be interesting about this class to keep my attention.)

Anatomy and Physiology I - (The first part of a Ant.Phys. sequence I need for Nursing school. I took Ant. Phys. in highschool, and it was once of my favorite classes. I think I am going to start off somewhat ahead. I hope. Unfortunately my teacher is about as dynamic as a shelf.)

Western Civilization II - (The second part of a sequence, I have not done West. Civ. I, so i am going somewhat our of order. I had forgotten how much I love history, and Professor Macaluso makes my tuesdays and thursdays much better with his inability to control his voice inflection.)

English Composition II - (I love composition, so hopefully I will enjoy this class just as much as Comp. I. My teacher is no Lakeman, but I like her. Too bad for me, this class deals mostly with argumentation, something I seem to lack the skill of. I like this class though, my best friend is in it, and I get to edit papers.)

Screenwriting II - (Obviously the second part of a two part course. It is a level 400 class, and I am the only freshman, amongst 8 other grad-students. We have ten people in total, the other student is a senior. I was extremely intimidated, until I realized that the only people getting english majors are Sci-Fi wacks, and Dawson's Creek idolizers. We had to write a reveal scene, that plays to the audience only.. One girl came out with a dog-police department, all the other were either set on a different planet, a spaceship, or the far-off future. Mine just has a couple of guys, on a back porch. Not that Lakeman minded, it seemed mine was less criticized than the golden retriever chief of police.)

Above you will Lazy, she pees on my arm, she meow's all night.

Ell oh Ellz

For an in-class assigment in my English class, we were required to write a free-style poem on something we felt was a societal problem, or something we were simply passionate about. Since I do not have much time at the moment to write a full-out blog composition, I am writing the poem down instead. This is the one my English teacher is trying to submit for publication in The Oracle, a art/shortstory/poetry book South publishes every year. Publication is pretty much strictly available to Senior english majors, so statistically it won't happen, but it was an unwarranted boost of some self-esteem.

Sometimes grown ups forget you're down there
On the floor with the ants and the loose wiring.
It would be wise not to chew either one. He will
wake from his stupor, she will tire of her old Sinatras.
Best to forgive them now, before it gets worse;
That way you will have some forgiveness left for later.
When he remembers he is a parent, you'll have a better
shot at Kix, or popsicles, or his keys if they find you
wearing a funny hat instead of shredding papers
at the mail slots. If they wake
and go straight to the medicine cabinet, or each
other's throats, grab a fuzzy and get scarce. Put your
shrieks and tears into the cheap blue fur.
When his eyes happen to fall on you the moment
they hate themselves the most (you can smell it),

you must play very

but not too

dead.

Try to leave your body in their hands - without it

you can climb the window ledge and look out.

Just don't forget the way back into your bruised

skin, you will need it with you if you find a time

to run, or tell. If all the life is beaten out of you,

red dragonflies with wings half air, half spun gold,

gazillions of them, will rise up and bear you to the

warm basket waiting beside the stove of God. Well.

Whatever death turns out to be,

it will be one good father.