Little Ladybug

One night last week I barged into my apartment and turned my lights on. I had my jacket draped over my arm and as I attempted to hang it up in my closet, I noticed a ladybug on it. I literally freaked out because all I could think of was "BUG!!!!!!!!" but after calming down I saw that it was a ladybug. It wasn't the traditional black-and-red spotted ladybug, this was a light pink, almost translucent, ladybug. I gently brushed her off my jacket into the hallway, and then, she vanished. As suddenly as she appeared, she was gone. Nancy loved ladybugs. She loved them so much that every time I see one, I immediately think of her. In that moment all I could think was that was there, with me, letting me know that she could still scare the crap out of me whenever she wanted.
Many years ago I went through an online tetris addiction. It was bad. Really, really, bad. I was still living at home with my parents, and my dad would get SO friggin pissed that I would stay up late WASTING my LIFE on the computer, playing a STUPID game and wasting ELECTRICITY, instead of READING or SLEEPING (his angry words, not mine). Nancy was living at home at the time also. She had moved down from New York and was planning on staying home with us for a while to help take care of our mom, who was scheduled to have surgery to remove an acoustic neuroma (benign tumor on her right acoustic nerve). It was around this time that Nancy began experiencing the crippling migraines. Unbeknownst to us, she had a brain tumor the size of a tennis ball (yeah, we're all about the tumors). She began hating not only bright light, but light in general. One night, as usual, I was up late playing tetris in my parents office wasting both my dad's electricity and my life, when my sister decided to use the bathroom right next to the office. As she was a tiny little bird, she made no noise, and because lights would aggravate her tumor-induced migraines, she didn't turn any lights on. I needed a tetris break, so I went to the bathroom, the same bathroom she was in. The door was wide open and she was sitting on the toilet in the dark. She was wearing a nightgown and had her long hair draped down the sides of her face, in front of her shoulders. When I saw this, when my tetris-gorged brain absorbed this image, I screamed at the top of my lungs. Do you get it? Do you know why?! Because she was sitting, she appeared rather short. Her long hair was parted down the middle and draped forward, covering her face. She was wearing a light-colored nightgown. In that moment, she wasn't my sister. She had become the little girl from The Ring. THE RING!!!! I screamed out of sheer FEAR that the little girl from The RING was in MY bathroom, not only sending the message that I would die within seven days, but also totally fucking up my tetris program, and MY screaming caused the little girl from The Ring Nancy to scream also. She was probably thinking, 'What the hell is wrong with this girl?!' It must have been around 2 am, and we woke up scary-dad Papa Carlos, because he hauled ass over to the bathroom and proceeded to yell at us. After a few minutes of SCREAMING, Nancy and I began laughing hysterically. Papa Carlos was still NOT amused. I guess he didn't appreciate being woken up to the sounds of his two daughters screaming bloody murder? Some people.
Anyhow, this is one of my favorite memories of my sister. I know it sounds completely ridiculous, but it was Just. So. Funny!! First she scared me so I started screaming, then my screaming scared her, then she started screaming at me, then our screaming woke up our dad, then he must have gotten scared, then he started screaming at the two of us, then Nancy and I started laughing hysterically, which angered our father, which caused him to scream even more. It was all so slapstick and silly, but I always think of that incident fondly and laugh to myself. You know, I just thought of something. I haven't seen The Ring since before that night. I wonder..... If I watch it now, do you think I'll find it funny? OMG. I need to put The Ring on my Netflix. I love a good comedy!!!!

Put Your Tiny Hand In Mine

I. Am a Sigmund Fruit. According to "Food Court Druids, Cherohonkees, and Other Creatures Unique to the Republic," by Robert Lanham, I am a Sigmund Fruit. I am a person who insists on telling you about my dreams. In my defense, my dreams are truly truly truly outrageous!!! (Jem!)
Last night Nancy came to me in my dreams again!!! Sometimes I say "my sister," other times I say, "Nancy," but I think everyone that knows me by now knows that my sister Nancy died five years ago from malignant melanoma (WEAR SUNBLOCK BITCHESSSSS).
Out of all my family members, I am the one whose dreams she visits the most often. I accept that the reason behind this is because I am the most emotionally unstable in my family. HA HA HA HA HA oh hello prozaczoloftlexapro!!!
Sometimes she has her long, blonde, curly hair, like she had when she was healthy. Other times she has short, thin, baby hair, like she had while she was sick and undergoing chemotherapy. In some dreams she is healthy, strong, and able to kick my ass, in others she appears frail, weak, and vulnerable. She was older than me, but shorter than me, so I used to call her my "little big sister." When she was sick, I was very overprotective of her, but we were each others' "little bird." When she was healthy, if she wanted to, she could probably have beat the crap out of my brother and I at the same time. When she was sick, I would be able to lift her little body in bed and rearrange her pillows so she would be more comfortable. She would say to me, "You're the best sister in the world," and she would tell others, "Kathy is the best sister in the world." Thinking of her in those moments makes my eyes well up.
Well, the original point of this post was to say she came to me again in my dreams last night.  She had long, blonde, curly hair, and we were all spending time at my parents' house for the holidays. I wanted to bring her and my brother to see my new apartment on South Beach.  Our time together was limited because my brother had to drive back to Gainesville and she had to go back home also.  Although it was never spoken, I assumed "home" for her was New York.
I've been trying to figure out when it is that she comes to me in my dreams.  Is it when I feel utterly hopeless, when my grief and despondency are severe, or when I'm happy and loving life and wishing she were here on Earth so I can share my happiness with her?
It feels kind of like a pattern that I can't quite figure out. Perhaps I am scared to figure it out, because once I do, her visits will decrease?
In the moments right after her soul/spirit left her shell, I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt free, strong, at peace. I asked my mother as I wiped away tears, "Mom, I feel different, it's like I don't feel sad anymore! Don't you feel that?!" My mom just looked at me like I was crazy. My therapist at the time said that Nancy had left me her strength.  I believed that for a short time, then realized it could NOT be further from the truth. Losing Nancy, losing her as my sister, altered my identity tenfold. I was lost, broken, fractured, my spirit was deeply shattered and I had no idea how to live; I couldn't fathom a life without her at my side. I grew to resent girls with sisters; I saw my girlfriends sharing their happiness with their sisters, and I hated them. I hated that I would never have her to call, to go to the movies with, to travel with, to have her as my Maid of Honor at my wedding. I felt that as long as she was alive I would be okay; now that she was gone, I was just a shell. No spirit, no soul, no happiness, no pain. I was going through the motions, just so that my life would eventually end and I would be with her again.
My relationship with my brother strengthened, as a result, even though we were always close, but we were both incomplete.


Woah. Ok. I just re-read this post, and I'll be the first to admit I'm a Debbie Downer!!! Sorry. I admit I was listening to depressing music while writing this. I blame Adam Levine and Alicia Keys!!!


So sorry. I hope I didn't upset anyone. Maybe this video will cheer us all up:

Don't Tell Mom The Online-Dating Is Dead.

In order to distract myself from the constant and profound depression brought on by the collapse of my relationship with my "Life Partner," I signed up for what could possibly be one of the most masochistic experiences I've ever put myself through. Even more painful than the time Patrick Dempsey wished me a happy birthday at the airport and I froze, literally FROZE, while clutching my chest like my heart was about to DIE, online dating has brought me to a new all-time low. This train wreck beats my last all-time low, when, after our breakup, and after I spent most of the day laying in bed, I dragged myself over to Publix to buy a cake. I hadn't showered or brushed my teeth all day, my hair was a nappy, mangled, bird's nest, and I wanted to buy myself a "Break-Up Cake." The older man that was bagging it was very careful with it; I said, "Don't worry about it. That cake's not goin' anywhere."

Here's a picture of the cake I ate to take the edge off of my despair and despondency:

This time around, there is no amount of cake that can help take the edge off the mortification that is online-dating. Except I just stuffed my face with three mushroom chicken fajitas and I feel like a goddamn whale that's about to explode. But that's not numbing the pain, so hold on a second while I go get a beer from my fridge. Don't judge. Don't you even judge.
Alright bitches, I'm back.
Where was I... oh that's right, my life sucks so I'm pimping myself on the internets.  Whoa HOLY SHIT I JUST HAD AN EPIPHANY!! WWJCD?! WHAT WOULD JOAN CRAWFORD DO?! Would SHE have a profile on okcupid?! Well, clearly, we all know she wouldn't. Honestly, everyone (especially my co-workers) know that I can be a huge Joan Crawford-esque betch sometimes.  I am not yet as powerful as Joan was so I took the initiative of joining the dating site to see what the hoi polloi do to meet other sociopaths. In other words, to quote Winona Ryder, I am doing research for a role.
Before I continue, I feel I should point out that a good friend of mine met her fiance on okcupid, and they are both well-adjusted people. They have never in my presence exhibited sociopathic tendencies. I just feel that my online dating experience has thus far provided me with endless comedic material, and I plan on taking advantage of that. Fully. Every day. Until the train wreck comes to an end, or until I delete my profile. Or until Joseph Gordon-Levitt starts replying to my fan mail and realizes we were destined to be together. ::sigh::


More later, my little alien babies!

Let's go to China!

I have everything we'll need.

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To My Car

I went downstairs to get my dad's monkey wrench from my car so I could finish building the Ikea dining room chairs I purchased about two weeks ago. (Depression takes up lots of my time, ok? Don't judge.) As I crossed the street to head back to my building, I encountered a tall, pierced, freckley white guy who asked me about my tattoos. One thing led to another and he is now my New Favorite Person In The World!!! I gave him the ochoplacas shop website, we exchanged numbers, we live a couple of buildings away from each other, and OMG he has my name tattooed on his arm!!!

He was so funny and witty, and had so much spark that I was immediately enthralled. His name is Billy Mia. Get it?! Bulimia?! I mentioned that I could be Anna Wrecksia but alas, that name has already been taken by a bigger, better, and more fierce queen.


Ummm.. he just texted me that he was eating a pear that matched his body shape. LOL!
I adore him already!! Trust that we will be trollin' the poop-ladened sidewalks of South Beach very soon!!
You. Havebeenwarned.