Planet X

My Life's Work

Well, hey. I've been running like a lizard on a hot road for weeks, and yesterday I just sat and listened to music for hours. After so many years of wanting to die, now I suddenly am interested in doing things, and I run myself ragged. The mechanic can't believe how many miles I put on my car, because I have to GO PLACES! I have to be in NY, and I have to be in PHILLY, and I have to be in MERCERSBURG, and I have to be in ALLENTOWN! Go! Go! Go! 

I think I am happy. When you don't have major problems, and you don't hate getting up in the morning, and you basically get to choose what you do in life, that's happy, right? I think I am, actually. Weird!

I don't know if you knew Becky Brewster, she has been a long time online friend of mine, a creative, intelligent, gypsy with a little heroin problem that she was very frank about. She passed away, just about my age. Very sad, even though I never met her. I liked very much knowing that there are people like her out there. I'm definitely pouring one out for my homie. Heroin is proof that God doesn't care.

I believe in God. Just not convinced that God cares at all. Does the wind care? Does the fire care? Nope. They are forces to which we must comply. It is our own job to care. Sometimes you think to not step on a crocus in the forest, and sometimes you don't, you just trample it to pieces. That's God.
Detachedly benevolent. "Oh, yeah, now that you bring it to my attention, sorry I trampled you to pieces..."-God I do not hold the neo-Christian belief that God is my cheerleader.

This weekend, I have to pick up Nevie and bring her home for a wedding, and then next weekend I have to get Nevie again to bring her to a gigantic family reunion and my grandmother's 100th birthday. Not gigantic in numbers, but gigantic in the fact that my sister is travelling from Ottawa, and my brother is travelling from Florida to be there. I want to bring something for all the kids. I've got to think on that. There is a baby, a 1, a 2, a 4, a 5, a 7, a 11, a 12, a 15 and a 16...something like that. I've got to think of something they all would like. Screw the adults. I only like kids.

Have you ever made a realization about something that happened years ago and gotten furious about it? That happened to me recently, when I was thinking about how I remain emotionally detached from my grandmother. Bob's number one favorite person on the planet was his grandfather, and my grandmother knows little more about me than my name.  I am 37 years old, and I was thinking about how my mother was given a 2% chance of living when I was a teenager, and went through chemo, radiation, and a lumpectomy, and that was only the beginning of a massive downward spiral for my family. My dad was drowning himself in alcohol in response, and my brother and sister had grown and moved away, so I was the only kid at home. There was violence and suffering.  NOT ONE TIME did my grandmother check in on me to see how I was coping. NOT ONE TIME.

NOT.
ONE.
TIME.

So, congratulations on turning 100.

It had not occurred to me that maybe a grandparent might have been a part of a support system to me until like, literally, yesterday. I was seeing how much love my mom gives my kids, and I thought, wow, where were my grandparents in my life? Spending their millions on vacations abroad and participating in Gardening Club luncheons.

I think this has had a greater impact on me than I realized because I have basically made every decision in my life to keep from being a millionaire myself. Somewhere in my childhood-conceived subconscious, I knew that their priorities were on planet X. Maybe I could let go of that a little bit now, though. No one said being low income is the best revenge! Lol

Enough for now.

Love and light,
Your friend,
Hil