The Day I Tried To Live --Soundgarden

I want to write another open letter to God, but he didn't exactly answer the last one, so...


Dear Mighty Cosmos Man,

I really, really, want to fucking know what the purpose of this shit is, I mean, c'mon, God what the fuck did we do?

I prayed for a miracle and was so relieved to find out that God must have heard my prayers, because suddenly the black pit there was snugly covered over by a lid. But, while I'm over here whining about my fucking dryer, the people I love the most in the world are dealing with something that would have certainly made me shut the hell up.

I made such a big deal over the damn dryer thing, and all I really should have been worrying about is how I should STFU because my problems are petty and ridiculous compared to things that others are going through.

My goal is never to diminish anyone else's problems, just merely to convey a, hopefully, comical life experience.

And then I got to thinking...

I'm sitting here at my iMac with my Starbucks blend coffee I made here at my home, in jeans that fit, shoes that aren't worn so thin that there are holes in the soles, and a fucking bra that cost more than the two shirts that I'm wearing over it. What the fuck have I got to complain about?

The truth is, I get two steps forward in my recovery only to shove myself three steps back because I've inherited Mom's propensity for revealing the tragic spin to everything.

Oh, you just threw half a banana away? You know there are kids out there starving, why didn't you let someone else eat that?

You should appreciate that you have clothes to wear, food to eat, and a house to live in; a lot of people in the world don't have those things.

(I'm terrible.)

I have a whole list of complaints:

the front left burner on the stove quit working

everybody's got/had some horrible stomach illness

my car....ugh, my car...

actually, that's about it. I don't want to complain anymore.

Here's a whole list of things that I'm grateful for:

My Mom, Dad, all my family

our health, my ability to play with my kids and out run the big one (sometimes)

that both my girls (so far) love to read as much as I do

the uncanny ability to retain and regurgitate seemingly useless, and endless, bits of information

my ability to read and write, communicate my feelings through writing

I am truly grateful for all that I have ever been blessed with in my life.

But, God, why this? Why now? What lesson is there here? What am I supposed to learn while I sit by and watch good people suffer and die from disease?

Am I supposed to do something? Am I supposed to go back to school and hit science and med school? What is it? What are you trying to tell us?


There are people out there that think they can be healed by a miracle of God.

I fell on a box and it cut an artery. If I was waiting for you, God, to come down and stitch me up at the ER I'd be dead right now.

Let's pray the blood back in.
Let's pray that God will heal us.
Let's pray the gay away.
Let's pray that God will get me out of this flood.

Oh wait, he already sent me a boat, a helicopter, and a canoe, but I was too stupid to see that?

I NEED to do something. I need to help, I need to fix everything up and save everyone from everything.


"How come I wasn't there, at the hospital, when GG died?" Anna Lee asked the other day.

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to protect you from things that you'll have to go through later in life. Seeing people die...It changes you," I gulped back tears, "It's not something you can ever forget."

I had hoped I did the right thing. Anna Lee was young, she stayed with Missy while I was at the hospital. Did I really just deprive her of those last moments of Mom's life? Or did I do the right thing?

You'll never know all the thoughts and feelings that overwhelmed me that day. How was I able to tell her that she'd never get to see her GG alive again? At the time, it was one of the most difficult moments I'd ever had in my life.

I said, the other day, God, that I'd like to cock-punch you. It's true. I said it. And I meant it. I'm fucking pissed. You took my mother. You took his mother. I watched them go. I don't want to do that again, with anyone, and yet, the longer I live, the more people I'll have a front row seat to watch die. It's a pretty grim way to look at things, sure, but just because I notice the glass is half empty--don't worry, I'm still gonna drink the rest and fill up the glass again, because, hey thirsty.

Please, God, just give our family a break, ok?



"Nothing...
seems to kill me...
no matter how hard I try..."

BRING ME MY DAMN DRYER, OK?

I had to go to the laundromat Monday...and Wednesday. Turns out the closest coin laundry is closed on Wednesdays now. So plan b took us to a laundry where the washers are free because they test them for GE.

To make a long story short, I gave some random dumbass a jump because he was sitting outside the laundromat with his sound system thumping. I didn't mind, really.

I kept my eyes on the dryer the whole time because I was afraid the shady guy in the corner with the thongs on his head was gonna steal my underwear.

Turns out he was just messing with his girlfriend. But still.

They called to schedule the dryer delivery from Lowe's yesterday. I said today between noon and five would be *great* for me! And then they called this morning to tell me it's not there yet.

Get your shit together, Lowe's. Stop teasing me with the prospect of a timely delivery!