Thank God for every breath.

I picked up a case of Walking Pneumonia a few weeks back. I hope you guys can forgive me for not posting. I found this experience coupled with the recent tragedy in my little community most sobering. The weight of death and its certainty has just brought me so down. Time is a cruel thing. Life is too fragile and I understand so little about it. Just that I love it and fear its end.

Suddenly, parenting is almost too much, because the loss of a child seems unbearable. Suddenly, my relations aren’t close enough. Suddenly, my friends mean more and some acquaintances mean less. I waste so much of my precious time. And worse yet, I know these feelings will fade in a way and I secretly want them to. I wish life could be the even time signature that I am used to. I will never be the same...once again. Change is good, but it also hurts. I need peace, and it seems so hard to find.

Oh, and I swear a blood oath to you that this will never become a video blog, but I will be posting videos off and on.

Chaucer and Dad and J.R. and anyone else who care to chime in-

This is an emergency and sorta’ awkward.

If you had the choice to see Dream Theater or Rush, but not both, who would you choose and why? I have seen neither. I would value your opinion. My apologies if this is inappropriate. I’m not sure what constitutes proper etiquette on these things anyway. Many thanks.

King Crimson

There is an awful lot going on in this song. One of my favorites. Also, I am trying to figure out how to post videos.

Dear Damsel in Distress,

I miss you. Where have you gone? It seems that in every movie that you have been in lately, my gender can no longer rescue you. Also, where did you learn Kung Fu?

Why the spinning round house? Why the ‘tude? Why the anger? Why the masculine muscley muscles? Was it V.I.P? That utter tripe. Was it Barb Wire? Was it the disproportionate fighting chicks in Street Fighter and its ilk? Was it Seven of Nine?

I don’t know when you changed. It wasn't that long ago. I miss the girl next door: vulnerable, non-butt kicking character you once were. I wish you would put a little meat on the bones, and unlearn the kung-fu. I wish your body was normal and you were fine with it. I wish your lips and chin weren’t pumped full of goo. I wish you were sweet: instead of the harsh war-scarred attitude you’ve had of late. I wish you didn’t look like a Bratz doll and I wish my daughter didn’t think that you were pretty. You’re not.

You have covered up your vulnerability and replaced sweetness with testosterone. A strong woman is not necessarily the one with the capability to pull off a flying roundhouse.

I miss you.

G-man

Eureka lost one of her daughters on Saturday.

May your brown eyes brighten heaven the way they brightened our community.

Farewell little one.