Candle Light Walk to Honor the Memory of Brian Picone: Photos

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I'm at a loss right now. I spoke with Ben on the phone last night and talked about funeral presentations. I can say how much I enjoyed the day of Brian's "service", the Pride meeting of sharing thoughts, or the variety show that followed the candle light walk but the fact is that this is the way I chose to represent this loss in photographs. I chose the traditional thing. You know, I brought my camera with me to the service last Friday but amid all of the liberal love I just couldn't bring myself to take a photo because, I don't know, whatever I captured would just appear false to me. I know what the truth looks like; I've seen it before. These photos are closer to the truth; they're closer to matching what I know and how I think I'm supposed to feel. The thing is, what if there is no truth or the truth has changed? I've thought about what would happen after my own death and the truth that I know makes me cringe. I wanted a new truth. I wanted a party. I wanted all of my lives to come to together through the people that I knew and I wanted new friendships to be formed in my honor. I wanted a live band.

Are those things for me or for the people left to deal with the loss? The way I am dealing with this makes me wonder about that. It's nice to see that the party exists; the true celebration of life as a funeral service exists. I love it. I really do. The thing is, I don't think I am grieving or getting over it. I don't know what I'm doing but I don't think I'm doing it right. I don't like this feeling and I don't like that I'm having to reevaluate my life right now. I am full of anger and I don't know exactly where to apply it. I am full of pain. So. So. So. Much. Pain.

Right now, I feel like crying and screaming to anyone who will listen; I'm sorry, I don't know who I am.

I'm sorry, I don't know who I am.

I'm sorry.

I don't know who I am.

Making Sense of Feelings of Inadequacy

I felt empty. Very suddenly.....I just felt an overwhelming sadness. I sat and watched and listened to things going on around me and I just wanted to cry. Maybe crying would have made me feel better but I'm not sure because my body wouldn't let me. I just felt cold and distant and very awkward.

(..............)

I hate the feeling of not knowing what to say or do with myself and often times that just leads to me doing stupid shit. I followed Seth around like a love-sick puppy. Why couldn't I just leave? I hated myself last night. I couldn't even put anything into proper words because it was just this big wave of emotion to me. And I.......I acted like a child. I hugged him over and over again to the point of awkwardness and told him I loved him. I also said I'm sorry and he asked why and I couldn't find the words. What I meant was that I was sorry for loving him and subsequently sorry for acting the way I did. Why do I get like that? I can remember being like this years ago and thinking that when I wasn't a child anymore it wouldn't be the same but it still is. I asked him childish questions in a small voice and he would start to answer and then thankfully someone would interrupt and it would go on as long as possible but I was still there. I couldn't walk away. That last hug.....I just want to cry thinking about it. He was so warm and soft and comfortable. I looked up at him and sheepishly asked if I could give him a kiss. He said no. I felt stupid and broken-hearted and just really.......like, that core part of me is still a child. I love like a child.

I realized that it was past 2 and I slowly walked to my car. I hung my head in shame. I hated myself for being the way that I am. "Why can't I be normal?" I asked myself that over and over again. I got to my car which was parked in front of a party happening around someone's door stoop. A fellow said things to me in drunken French and I stopped him and made him start again in English. I told him I wasn't drunk and that I was going to bed. In my car. He still thought I was drunk which was fine because that would have given me justification to sleep in the car. Someone circled the car in a bike once and peeped in and I stared back. I heard the merry voices in French right outside my car....I mean directly next to my car.....and I was glad they were there. I thought, "You know, this'll make a really great story even though I feel like shit. In a few weeks, I'm going to read it and think I'm pretty damn awesome." That's probably true. As for right now.....well, I still hate myself.

-June 10th, 2007

I felt exactly like that today. I'm sure if I felt the need to, I could conjure up examples in the same vein from more than ten years ago. I know why this happens now, though. This thing is not love; this thing is wanting to be something perceived as better than what I am. I am desperately looking at someone else's culture and wanting to be a valid part of it. By valid, I mean I want my relationship with this person to be equal and more than just an afterthought. I never wanted to be just a fan of music; I wanted to be a friend. I never wanted to be just a student; I wanted to be a friend. I never wanted to be some person in a sea of many. I wanted to share my thoughts and feelings with this person. I wanted us to a be part of each others' lives. I looked up to him but I wanted to tear down that hierarchical structure so I could stop being a kid and we could be equals.

I can read that story and take pride in the fact that I have progressed; I still act somewhat like a child when I don't feel adequate but thankfully it's not nearly that extreme. Today I tried to go to an academic conference littered with PhD candidates that are sadly my superiors in a very real sense. I don't know what I was thinking but I clearly didn't belong there in the sense that I wanted to. I was only there for an hour or so but slowly I started to feel completely self-conscious. I looked at all of these attractive and intelligent young professionals and thought about the way they perceived me. I happily spoke to one of my former professors and as he dished out advice I was incredibly conscious of the things he said and the way he said them. He was being very helpful and polite but I realized that he was speaking to me as my professor and not as a friend. Though it was the logical way of speaking to me based on previous interactions, it made me feel terrible. We're not too far apart in age but because of place-in-life circumstances, I am perceived a certain way and treated accordingly.

When I become self-conscious in this manner, I start to feel more and more child-like by the second which quite obviously doesn't help my cause. Today I felt suddenly awkward and out-of-place like I just needed to flee the situation immediately but at the very same time I felt really needy like I wanted there to be someone to talk it out with.

Everything that came out of my mouth was the wrong thing. The same as before. Word vomit. Inside my head I was going, "Oh, God! What am I saying?! Why did I say that?! Don't say another word. You have absolutely nothing valuable to say to these particular people to begin with but now you're just making yourself look like an ass."

I tried to say good-bye and explain how I was feeling to Z but I think it came across as nervous whining. My self-hatred increased as I realized the words coming out of his mouth enraged me and yet I longed for nothing more than to leap into his arms and close my eyes and pretend to feel love just like I did in Montreal. I don't understand this! Why was that my mental response?! That doesn't make any sense.

Z's response to my feelings of inadequacy was to tell me to have a drink after which he says he's going to a bar. When I ask if that's an invitation, he says no. I wanted to punch him in the face and scream at him while simultaneously wanting him to hold me.

I wanted Z......or anyone really......to hug me and say, "It's alright. Sometimes we all feel inadequate. Just because you don't have any fancy degrees doesn't make you any less of a person in my eyes. I still think you're smart and I value you as a person. Just because you're not a part of this doesn't mean I don't want to be your friend."

That's ridiculous, though. I desperately want to be seen as valid; as an equal. That's not only unrealistic but it's also counterproductive. I want to be baby'ed in order to feel more like an adult.

When I try to pick this apart, I think of my good friend Ben Masters who is in Minnesota now. Ben hugged me all the time when I was having these weird feelings. He also frequently gave me encouraging words. I never felt like he was babying me and hopefully he didn't feel that way either. I never felt like I was less of a person around him and though we were two completely different people I never felt inequality of any sort. Is this because of the person he is? Is this because we met as people in the same stage of life (undergraduate level college)? I suspect a little of both is true.

I wanted to punch Z in the face because his advice was inconsiderate and irresponsible. It was inconsiderate because I spoke of feelings of inadequacy and not fitting in and his response was to mention something else that excluded me. What I heard was, "You should go do this thing alone while I go do this same thing socially." I could attribute the exclusion to a lot of things but why would he bother to point it out?

His advice was irresponsible because telling someone to drink because of anxiety or feeling inadequate is just not a good idea. Some people might be able to handle that but why would you take the chance? Z knows that I don't drink alcohol. I don't know; maybe he doesn't know that it scares me or that it's something I don't joke about. Telling me to go drink alone when I'm upset is like telling me to go find out if I'm an alcoholic. That terrifies me and it makes me want to cry because someone I care about and want to call a friend told me to do it.

I left and walked home in the rain after about an hour of being there. I felt miserable; like I had been defeated. I was mad at myself for thinking I should go in the first place. I was mad at myself for all the time I invested in getting to know people like Z, M, or R because no matter what I can't change the way we met. Ben told me a few weeks ago that I became his friend by "invading his life" and I thought about it and realized that's kind of how I make all of my friends since it doesn't really seem to happen organically. The problem with invading lives is that some people don't want their lives to be invaded and that invasion won't work if there are hierarchical structures in place which we all constantly reinforce.

I've been trying to think ahead to when I graduate; we're going to do xyz when I graduate. I used to tell Matt Bruno that we'd have brunch together someday. Will we really, though? I'm scared we won't. I'm not Matt Bruno's job anymore so he doesn't care about me. Graduating doesn't mean I will automatically fit in with educated people. It also doesn't mean my relationships with people will change just like that. It's not impossible but it's just not likely. Should I give up then? Should I just lose touch with these people and move on? I don't want to because I find value in my relationships with them. I feel like I have to invade lives in order to get people to understand that I am worthy of friendship; I'm pretty sure that this is how Ben and I eventually became so close. If I were not so persistent I just wouldn't have friends at all.

I was so upset that I came home and slept all day. I woke up at 9:30PM and the wheels in my brain were turning; desperate to make sense of all these feelings. Again; sitting here and writing everything out while trying to rationalize it is a throw back to ten years ago which makes me feel like maybe I haven't changed. The less time I spend thinking about something, the better off I am probably. Wasn't that Z's logic in telling me to drink? He was telling me to relax and stop thinking. Well, sorry. This is just sincerely how I am.

On Getting Shit Done

This is it; my last semester of undergraduate work. All I have to do is get shit done. Really. That's all it boils down to. Making that mental list, sitting my skippy ass down, and doing it. The thing is, the list never ends. College is about jumping through hoops and silly me, I'm looking to get myself into more college when I'm done with this. More college, more hoops. Write umpteen million papers for New Century College un-professors, fill in Scantron bubbles for Miss Cute-and-Peppy psychology graduate student, spend hours studying accounting for Terrifying Business Cougar, finish the papers required for my portfolio (which by the way NO ONE wants to read; I've asked around), study for the GRE, take the GRE, find a short term job or paid internship for spring/summer, apply for graduate schools (and scholarships and teaching assistantships, etc.), and so on and so forth. That doesn't even take into account my housing issues, car troubles, family drama, all of the things I want to do with my life, and oh yeah, I'm 25 and I've never dated anyone. I can't decide if I'm a skeptical, anxious, high strung nutcase because of college or if I'm good at college because I'm a skeptical, anxious, high strung nutcase. All I know is that not getting shit done is not an option at this point.

Wish me luck...?

Things Change/Things Never Change

A few weeks ago, I went down to Charlottesville for a show; only my sixteenth of the year. Though I was in a state of distress thanks to car troubles and family woes, I tried to do my usual things. I got pizza at Christian's, money at the Wachovia ATM, stuck my head in the door at the Mudhouse to see the same sort of teenagers that were there when I was younger, ordered a pot of cocoa rooibos at the tea bazaar, etc. I sadly peered in the dark windows of the space that was until fairly recently Gravity Lounge. I thought about my friend Bill and I wondered where he went. I wish I could find him and give him a hug.

As I was walking from place to place, I heard a familiar sound; that of a flute. I absently thought to myself, "Oh. The end of summer must be near. That's White Owl."

I carelessly floated through the small crowds of people until I came to the source of the music and there I stood; entranced. Sure enough, it was White Owl.

White Owl is a mystical, ageless old man that signifies the end of things. Or, you know.....a homeless street musician. I first met him in that magical time of discovery I went though as a senior in high school. I had just gotten a car so I would get up early and drive to Charlottesville on Saturdays and spend all day on the mall writing in my notebooks and talking to strangers. I loved talking to the homeless people, crazy as they were. I may have even been jealous of the crust punks; there was something romantic about sleeping in abandoned buildings, hopping trains, and living off the "fruit" of the land. I still think that someday I'd like to try it but unfortunately gentrification and age have gotten the best of me.

I remember meeting White Owl and going back to school on a Monday to tell my homeroom class about him. They all laughed at me, of course. What 17 year old girl would go hang out with homeless people on Saturdays?

Funny; there was never once a thought given toward service. There was never a pat on the back for trying to "work with homeless people". In fact, there was much scolding from my mother when she found out I was associating with homeless people and would sometimes accompany them to the Salvation Army for dinner. I only knew White Owl because I wanted to and no other reason. I asked him his name and ten million questions because I was curious. I'd never known a homeless person before. Not the sort that hopped trains, lived in a tent, and came with an old mutt anyhow.

So there I was....eight years later.....standing in front of this man playing the flute. When he stopped I asked him if he remembered me and he answered, "Yes. I don't remember your name but I definitely remember your face."

I didn't really know what else to say. The absolute worst part was walking back by him again. His eyes followed me and I felt guilty because by now I've been taught to feel guilty; I've been taught to think it's my job to do I-don't-know-what about homelessness and every other cause out there. I've also been taught to not give a shit at the very same time; to walk right past and not wonder but ignore because in Charlottesville there's just one White Owl and a handful of crusties but in DC you can multiply that by every street corner. It's kind of overwhelming so you think, "Oh, God. What can I do?"

White Owl used to be a seasonal hobo. He'd always return at the end of the summer and stick around in the Fall. At least that's when I saw him. I know he used to live in a tent somewhere and he talked about hopping trains and the city of New Orleans. I don't know; maybe he's settled down...? Maybe he's not homeless now or at least less homeless than before. At least, that's what I hope.

Anyhow, the point is that the most bizarre, random shit is constant. White Owl is still there and the Pietasters are still playing shows. There's not much else I can think of that has stayed the same. Marriages end, new ones begin, those eventually end also, people change their minds, then change them again, and nomadisism is alive and well. Regardless of what White Owl is or might possibly stand for, shouldn't I be clinging to the idea of him because there might possibly be sanity in something constant?

I hate how quickly things fall apart for me mentally when drastic change is introduced. I don't like it when people come and go. I feel like I get dragged through the process and I always feel very much alone. I suppose this is nothing new but man, this really makes me weary of things that are "forever" or "the truth". I simply think, "How can that be...? It's mostly just chance, isn't it? I don't want it to be but..."

How Did I Spend My Hours?

You see that crazy guy on the Ark? That's Ben Buss; he was my "supervisor" for the semester through Northern Virginia Lutheran Campus Ministry. He's awesome. He was super understanding and open to the idea of getting service hours by.....well, doing good things for those that needed them. In a way, that's kind of what LCM is all about; it's kind of a middle man sort of organization that hooks students up with service projects. That's obviously not all it is but that is a big part of it. I did as much as I could for LCM itself but much like my internship for NCC this semester, that didn't really feel like I was doing any good. This whole process of learning should be about doing as much good as possible and making connections......so that's what I did.

Here's where my hours came from:

- Flyering; I put up flyers every single week for 747 services and various other LCM activities. I did 3 intense full campus flyerings this semester. For about 5 weeks or so, I also did flyers for United College Ministries because the student who puts up flyers for them had a broken arm.

- Church Planning; I helped plan a service on joy this semester. I only did it once because I am bad at it. I honestly don't know the Bible well enough to plan services. I am however a fantastic cook...and sometimes services need food.

- Service Projects; stuff like volunteering at the Katherine K. Hanley shelter or helping at Relay For Life. I forget what else we did but those things are actually making a difference. Who cares if it's not directly for LCM; it's better than doing something directly for LCM because it's actually helping people in the broad scheme of things. None of it is really my thing but at least it feels productive.

- Photographs; I take photos at most of the events LCM does. Since our service is co-sponsored by United College Ministries I also provide them with photographs. Both organizations will use my photographs for annual reports and to use for "marketing" purposes. I know Ben wants to put some of the photos on the big tri-board for summer orientation.

- Church Visitation; I was a walking, talking advertisement for LCM. Quite honestly, I really love speaking to congregations about LCM; makes me feel more important than I actually am. Saying things out loud also makes me realize, "Oh, yeah. I guess we kind of are making a difference in lives."

- Spring Break; I went on this service trip down to Jacksonville, FL with LCM/UCM which involved a few other nonprofits. The trip was through Society of St. Andrew and the specific program was called Harvest of Hope. We were also hooked up with the Jacksonville Urban Mission Experience but that was kind of disastrous; when we got there we found out the dorm building didn't pass inspection so we had to stay on the floor of a gym at a church/school. Anyhow, the whole point of the trip was to glean leftover crops for the hungry and that's just what occurred. Between my times in the field I experienced a lot of thought on the way people interact, the way programs are planned, the way nonprofits function, and being able to do the things I love for a living. I was urged not to do my experiential learning over spring break but honestly, that's where I learned the most. Sorry. (Honestly, that wasn't a surprise to me; I'd count Pop Montreal, Popped Philly, and going on tour as my biggest learning experiences and they were all week-long adventures.) For the most part, I was miserable on the trip but I at least came back with some additional knowledge (mostly about myself) that I didn't have before.

So there you have it. (And that's not even counting all of the fun stuff.) It's actually really nice that I got such diverse experiences since I'm cramming my Mason time into a year and half and will be expected to write about the million things I did in a portfolio. Beneficial to me, beneficial to other people, and hopefully to your liking, Dear Reader.

Spring Break: Photo Essay

I've actually done a lot of work on taking and editing photographs for both Northern Virginia Lutheran Campus Ministry and United College Ministries of Northern Virginia throughout the semester. They of course enjoy cheesy group photos but most of my favorite photos aren't like that...

In no particular order, here are a few of my favorite photographs from the Spring Break mission trip to Jacksonville, FL to glean fields for Society of St. Andrew's Harvest of Hope program.












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And in case there was any question as to who was having all of these adventures...there's this photograph. (As much as I love putting other people on the spot, I hate photographs of myself. That's like 80% of the reason I hate the Facebook, actually.)

Notes From Spring Break

I can't write about everything. Really, I can't. It's mostly because I'm too long-winded and tangential. The thing is, I do take notes on everything which kind of helps me to decide exactly what to write about. To give you a very vague idea as to what went on over spring break beyond the few bits I've already mentioned, here are the unedited notes I took while I was down there:

Video from 70s – outdated, look it up, wondering how real it is

Millennium goals (look up)

Homeless man/sandwiches – walk, reaction by boys in kitchen

Night walk irish bar – integration and being comfortable w/ who I am as a whole and the way I react to things, not being into program but being more into real life, speaking to homeless/drunks normally

Village of 100, poverty dinner, becky crying

Less frustration about not caring than normal, comfortable with just going along with it

Not knowing songs is why I don’t sing

Not wanting to touch strangers, knot game

Casper, danny s.

Broccoli, cabbage

Riding w/ Barbara, learning about org, program coordinator for fl starting 29 thousand or masters 32 thousand, worrying about making a living/surviving, figures about funding

Sleep schedule, general schedule problems, flexible, sleeping arrangements

Being myself doesn’t feel like I’m being bad like it used to, no guilt

Like 4-H camp which is what I thought of conferences too, cliques form in same way, always safety concerns for me, going off alone

Girl in charge reminds me of sarah s., young married

Interesting to see how young everyone looks to me, no hot dudes, people in charge look my age

No internet, sporadic showers, school/schedule problems

Starbucks girls, giving up things

How does sense of community fit into this? What about me pushing away?

Pooping or lack thereof (constipation)

No soundtrack

Sunburn, feeling drained

Wishing I had friends around, thinking of ben, thinking of zac, used to being mindful of hot dudes but becoming oblivious b/c there are none here

What part did god play?

Wed – going to see casper, crying, sarah’s salary, juicy pony, talking to ben via phone, meeting sara & jesse & chase, fun times, 3am talking to penn state habitat folks

2.5 hours of sleep, crazy tired, two hours of gleaning

Nothing mentioned about come as you are or you don’t have to participate if you don’t want to, I am working for you out of the kindness of my heart and I don’t have to

Citrus wed

Broccoli Thursday

Evaluations – accommodations

Barbara, Becky

Neighborhoods: five points, san marco, downtown

Danny Schmidt @ European Café, keylime cheesecake, nice couple giving restaurant recommendations

Found headband @ St. Andrew’s

the lady in that guy’s office that worked in RVa and know a lady in Culpeper (Brenda)

empty downtown, gay guy bookstore jesus etching, Jacksonville landing, ben phone call

independent businesses vs. Starbucks, Five Guys, Buff. Wild Wings, shopping center vs. city shops

being treated like adults vs. kids – paper said student volunteer and adult volunteer as if you can’t be both

danny’s shaky, beautiful voice, closed eyes, looking up, thought-provoking lyrics, handsome and friendly face and demeanor, soft spoken and caring, signature hat

Baby's First Board Meeting

Oh, dear. In true college student fashion, I've waited until the last minute to get things done. Well, written things anyway. I had previously written about the concern for hours which I carefully mapped out and completed.

So....my work with Lutheran Campus Ministry. Right.

This past Monday I was elected to the Northern Virginia Lutheran Campus Ministry board of directors. I went to the meeting where Ben Buss was presenting the annual report and there came a time when elections were taking place and someone mentioned having a student on the board and all heads turned toward me (presumably not just because I was a student but also because I had mentioned an interest in nonprofit involvement). I was gladly voted in and welcomed.

That meeting lasted three hours but was quite beneficial to my understanding of how things get done.......or don't get done. As a five-oh-one-cee-three they felt the need to be uber professional about things as far as structure and agenda. It sort of felt like one of my old honor society meetings but like, the way things would have been if we had actually stuck to the rules. Making motions for this and that, seconds and ayes, and an actual agenda list. Interestingly enough, two of the fellows there were young and ring-less. One of them was even employed. Even in the church-iest of church setting I find that's where my mind goes. In the interest of doing nonprofit work, maybe that's where it ought to be going.

So we went down this list of things and I found it kind of hard to believe that there was so much going on behind the scenes when this surface stuff was so informal and small. Ben Buss is not all business like so many other people I've met. He's super organized but, I don't know....he makes it seem like he's not...? We do little service projects and we take little trips and we do fun little things. Our weekly Wednesday night services which are actually shared with United College Ministries on Northern Virginia also seem pretty little. While there are occasionally new people that come once, there's a little core group of people. Little. On the surface, we are far smaller than we are behind the scenes. I'm perplexed by this.

Anyhow, I have a whole lot to learn about grant-writing, fund-raising, budgeting, and out-reach so this will be an excellent start. This is actually the sort of thing I've been looking to learn from so while the end of the semester is here I'm obviously going to do as much as I can for this organization in the future. I've already been to a meeting so I can man the LCM table over the summer for the freshman orientation dates. This is just the beginning for me and legit nonprofit work.

Ben's Transformation at Relay For Life: Photo Essay

I hadn't really planned on helping out with Relay For Life until I heard Ben would be dressing in drag. Then of course, I was all about it. I could talk about what a good cause it was and how it relates to my education with experiential learning and nonprofits but no.....that would be kind of boring. Here's photo documentation of how Ben became a pretty lady-man last night.

Dead Puppies Lead To...

I sat uncomfortably in the presence of several administrators in the
conference room. They all tapped their fingers impatiently and looked
at me with severe disappointment. I looked down at the floor and tried
to suppress my tears.

"You know you could be expelled for this, right?"

I couldn't speak. Tears welled up in my eyes. I hated him. He ruined
my career as a college student. Now I would never make more than
$8.00/hour.

"These emails........you encouraged him. Why did you do it?"

"Look, I didn't know he was actually that crazy! I thought he was just
joking about the dead puppies! How was I supposed to know he was
serious about throwing dead puppies around at the beer factory?!"

They didn't care, though. I was not only dismissed from George Mason
University, but I was arrested and charged as an accomplice.
Additionally, I was thrown out of Fairfax county based on the fact
that I would never make enough money to live there and I was sentenced
to several years worth of puppy-related community service in the
mountains of West Virginia. I lived happily for 3 years just outside
of Beckley, WV where I worked at the local Food Lion as a stock girl
making $7.50. I couldn't afford to live on my own so I lived with my
gainfully employed boyfriend, Bobby. Not only did Bobby provide me
with a nice trailer to live in but on weekends he would take me out to
eat at the Old Country Buffet and let me pick out a movie to rent at
Blockbuster.

Go figure -- my happiness couldn't last for long. Bobby unexpectedly
died in a freak BASE jumping accident during Bridge Day. I told him
not to do it but he did it anyway. I mean, I didn't yell at him or
anything because tons of people do it every year and only a few have
died.....but still. His parachute didn't open and the paramedics ended
up scraping his mangled body off a rock below Highway 19.

Not a week after the accident, I discovered I was pregnant. I didn't
believe in abortion, though.

...so I got an abortion. I didn't really know what else to do.

By that time, I was up to making $7.82 at Food Lion. (Full disclosure:
that last twelve cent raise was totally due to sleeping with one of
the assistant managers.) I was able to pay the rent on the trailer
myself with the money I had saved up but I realized that wouldn't last
long. I couldn't live without cable television, Coca-Cola, and weekend
buffet restaurant trips. I realized that I would need to get a second
job.

I moved in with that assistant manager I slept with. His girlfriend
wasn't happy about that.

2 months in, that bitch called the cops on me after I dumped a bowl of
hot Spaghetti-O's on her lap. She had it coming, though; she was
always telling me what to do and when I was watching tv she'd come in,
take the remote, and change it to some shitty reality show. The night
of the Spaghetti-O's fiasco I was watching the cooking channel and
like, I was totally into it. Bitch comes in and starts ranting about
some Hollywood show where the winner gets fake boobs and a million
bucks, changes the channel, and boom. I get pissed. Anyway.....

So I ended up moving back to my family's farm in Piney River. Luckily
I was able to get a job at the Dollar General in Amherst because the
Food Lion there would not hire me. I ended up marrying this guy named
Ricky.......and shortly thereafter finding out he's actually somehow
related to me on my grandfather's side. We just kind of laugh about
that because the very same thing happened to my grandparents; they
were actually third cousins.

Years later we were taking a vacation down in Warshington, DC (there
are two intentional mistakes in that phrase; please appreciate them)
and that's when I saw him. He didn't look a day older than the last
time I had seen him. He wore jeans, a suit jacket, and a stupid grin
on his face. I walked right up to him and said, "Excuse me."

He looked up and down at my corpulent body (which had pushed out four
live babies), shivered, and asked, "Uh, do I know you?"

I was enraged.

"AAAAHHHHH, WHAT THE FUCK?! HOW COME YOU HAVEN'T CHANGED?! WHY DON'T
YOU LOOK OLDER?! WHY AREN'T YOU MISERABLE OR IN JAIL?!"

He blinked and wiped bits of my Large Lady Slobber Of Rage off his
cheek disdainfully. I continued.

"ZAC FUCKING ________, YOU SON OF A BITCH BEER-POLLUTING PUPPY KILLER!
YOU FUCKING RUINED MY LIFE! THANKS TO YOU, I WASN'T ALLOWED TO FINISH
COLLEGE AND I HAD TO LIVE IN A TRAILER, WORK A SHITTY JOB, DATE
COMPLETE DUMBASSES, AND HAVE A SHITLOAD OF KIDS. WHY ARE YOU NOT
MISERABLE LIKE ME?!"

"Ohhhhhh. Shit, I didn't recognize you. You got....well anyway, after
you got kicked out I got a call from Starr Hill and they said that
folks were actually raving about the beer that had the dead puppies in
it. They couldn't keep the stuff on the shelves! They ended up paying
me a boatload of money to come down there and dead puppy-fy the whole
damn factory. Administration at the school had a change of heart and
realized that no one really liked live puppies anyway. Not only did I
get to keep my job and finish my degree but Mason actually changed
their mascot to Sad Boris, The Dead Puppy. Now all of GMU's teams are
called the Stinking Dead Puppies! I make a shit-ton of money these
days actually......"

As my rage grew, so did I. Larger and larger until my head reached the
clouds. Up. Up. Up. Zac ________ was a tiny speck to me. A tiny speck
that ruined my life. I picked him up between my thumb and forefinger
and dangled him in front of my face. Before I could think of a
creative way to destroy him, his body went limp between my fingers and
he was dead. Turns out the guy was deathly allergic to clouds. Who
knew?

I sang a short song about whales and my rage was gone. I was
normal-sized again. In fact, my body had returned to the state it was
in before the four kids and the buffet restaurants. My vagina was like
brand new! My husband and kids disappeared before my eyes and there I
was -- all alone with Zac ________'s Dead Body.

He just looked like he was sleeping so I nudged him with my foot.
Nothing. I poked him in his side, then his armpit, and finally on the
bottom of his foot. Nothing.

I started to walk away but came back.

I knelt down.....wrote something on a post-it note.........and slapped
it on his forehead. I stood a few feet away and watched as tourists
walked by, read the note, and laughed at his dead-ass body.