And so it starts. When crying in an Irish pub is out of character over bangers and mash. That I become so nauseous, I honestly think I've been poisoned with cinnamon. My stomach just keeps rolling and rolling; it'll be time for Mountain Dew and toast again.

I thought I could avoid this, the pain, the denial, what (I think) will be destruction. I thought I could just walk away, just box it up and be able to move on. No words would have to be uttered; friends would just come to know the year of 2009 as being a general fail, but otherwise, a drop in the bucket.

The door will close. I'll close in on myself, protect myself, try to stop the racking sobs which will no doubt start tomorrow. New Year's Eve should be a time for celebration, but instead, it's a time for death.

Just rolling, rolling. My stomach is protesting my even writing this, but my brain won't stop churning.

The scenarios, the dreams, the speech, the future? Everything I've had, I know will be crushed. And if it's not? A friend told me that it hasn't happened yet, and we could still have hope. Not a lot of hope, but maybe a little. But this hope isn't even the size of a flame from a lighter; it maybe has the capacity of being as bright as a single ember. But if it DOES happen? I just may die from shock.

(No, really. Like if this goes how I "wanted," I may just pass right the fuck out. People will have to carry me, resuscitate me, and prop me up at my desk on Monday.)

Please, God, Goddess, sweet baby Jesus, blue fluffy aloe plant, anybody I've prayed to over the years. Please give me the strength to get through this. Please steady my hand and help me to get through this. I reread the entry from June 2006 and I remember how that felt; this is similar, too similar. I thought I would never have to go through it again.

Will you show up on my doorstep in twenty years? I've been thinking about that. You asking me about the pictures, the videos, the stories. Would my dead eyes blink back at you? Would I recognize you?

Would you recognize me?

I hope you don't miss me. I hope I'm a forgotten story like others are no doubt to become. I hope you don't remember me, or wonder where I am. That I'm remembered fondly, instead of with a sneer, a downward glance, or pain in the heart.

I think it's ironic that I'm doing this for you. You may not remember, but I know I will.

I'm doing it for me, too, really though. I need to figure out what's going on, what is the question, the answer is not 42. I got into a long, long argument with a friend the other night about what was my answer, did I have a reason, and other such vagueness. So wishy-washy, not typical Jess.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Waiting for something, anything. Something to happen, or sever, or finally bonk me in the head so I understand that it's not the same. Or maybe it is? Maybe I'm in denial; that really could be it.

If only I didn't think I was being lied to. I have this feeling, this feeling in my bones, my marrow, that I am being consistently lied to about everything. Usually, honesty is the best form, but lately, it's been lies, lies, lies. It could be the truth, but my gut tells me otherwise.

The gut that's currently spinning, spinning, spinning.

I'm going away for a spell, and I'm not packing tonight. I don't want to; I want to go to sleep, not dream, wake up, and be able to work through it. Then drive Onyx and not crash over the side of a river/mountain. I want to welcome the new year with gusto, maybe some beer, and say "Good riddance!" to 2009 and maybe the decade as a whole. These are things I want to do. However, part of me thinks I'll go to work, be a zombie, drive North (not wreck new car), and end up a blubbering mess in my own damned car while a GPS gibbers at me.

Spinning, and churning, and nauseousness, and general fail...

... it's going to be awesome.

The Game is one of sly innuendos, words that fly out of mouths without being properly formed. It's words, actions, eyes roving over a body illuminated by blue lights off a dashboard. It's a grab of skin, a snicker behind a busy brain. It's a chuckle and wide eyes through a swinging door.

It's making me dance in my kitchen while pop music is on. It's making me cocky. It's making me rock and roll through my house with a slotted spoon as my microphone.

In short, it's fun.

I haven't played The Game in many moons. I really think the last time I laid heavy Game on anyone, it was Clementine, and we all know how that came out. Even with LiJ, it was poorly activated Game on his part, which is why I stopped playing in general.

This? Is different. Somehow.

First off, I am rusty at the Game. Secondly, and more importantly, I am very dangerous at The Game. It's like I take on a COMPLETELY different persona. Friends are amazed- and want to sleep with me. It's awesome how tight my Game is.

So now, we dance. It's good to be up front and honest, and Lord, I sincerely appreciate that. Give me just a little time to iron things out, and maybe it'll go somewhere...

... or maybe this will be the catalyst everybody needs, and I'll squash it as quickly as it started.

In Connecticut for the holly jolly holidays, when for whatever reason, you invaded my dreams. It wasn't fair, really; I was miles and states away from you. Regardless, you invaded my dreaming space, which I welcomed, oddly. The only thing I can use to explain it is the events of this week coloring my subconscious.

I had a long conversation with Otter Bucket about you on the drive up, Kayrin promptly ignoring us/sleeping in the backseat while Otter Bucket did the first leg of driving. She wants to make sure my intentions are pure, which I found odd since she's never even laid eyes on you. She asked if I ever got closure, which I didn't, but wants whatever is happening to be because of us and not because of incidents past. I guess no rebounding, in other words. But she's right; I wouldn't want to hurt you by accident because my own head is/has been so clouded for months.

But in typical Jessie fashion, maybe I'm thinking too hard about this entire situation. Maybe you hollering at me is all I need to realize there is more grass in the entire neighborhood and I'm not meant to just sulk and be miserable for the rest of my days. That's somewhat comforting, right?

Off of The Emo, you need to figure out how we're going to play this game. I don't know what you want; you said you didn't really have a plan. And well, I'm Jess: we NEED a plan. My brain tried out all sorts of arrangements while I was sleeping, so I have some options to discuss if you're interested.

Another subsidiary of the dream was the other coming under the pretense of normal circumstances, and breaking my heart by lifting it back up. I know it was because of talking to another friend of mine and what is currently going on in his life, but that little snippet, while welcomed, was not needed. It tugged a little too hard on my heart strings, waiting on a train don't come.

In short, thank you for giving me a damned good night of sleep. Granted, I woke up confused in Connecticut, with Smurf asking me questions of "What were YOU doing last night?" Regardless, it was a welcome dreamscape versus the others which cause me to wake up in the morning and cry. Even if nothing comes of it, and we don't experience the shortness of Six-Foot-Three and your too-tall head, I was definitely thankful for the distraction...

... ehm, VERY thankful.

-the darkness into which praying people pray.

it's quiet here except for this song.

but, hey,

at least you don't have to play along.

Post from mobile portal m.livejournal.com

I know you didn't know what was happening, baby. You spent the night in a weird place last week as I drove off onto the beltway, and it didn't make much sense. I came back for you the next night, though, and brought you home, only to cover you in two feet of snow. But I uncovered you with care, and drove you out of the spot you've been occupying (mostly) for the past eleven months.

You must have thought it odd when a strange woman took your buttons off. She didn't know the stories, baby, and I'm sorry. But I wasn't strong enough to do it myself. I knew I would look at the signatures and read all the buttons, losing daylight and not having you nearly as pretty as you needed to be. So I asked her to help, and she willingly came over, even though she'd never experienced you before. Baby, I'm sorry you had to go through that.

I know I sounded odd when I muttered through the tunnel that this would be your last time. You were acting so much better, all of your parts working, like you knew what would happen today. After all those years of you being there for me, helping me move, sheltering me when I was homeless, letting me cry when I went through my break-ups.

Or the funnier times. Like when I repeatedly set myself on fire, or let loose a Coolatta. When Kayrin thought I was going 120 mph. When we went to and from Florida so many years. You know I almost always said "we" when driving? Da-ee once asked whom I was with, and I said, "Mr. Bear" because I didn't think he would understand your name.

You're getting old, baby. And you've been. If I could have been strong enough in June, we wouldn't be here right now. But after hip replacement and pacemaker, I just couldn't do it anymore. It was time to pull the plug.

I did my research, and looked up something comparable to you. Something I would feel comfortable in, would know how to drive, would feel like this, too, could be part of my Jess essence. And while no one, and I mean no one, baby, could take your place, you were starting to endanger my life.

Did you know how many times I prayed through Harrisburg? Or when I would look at the snow-covered streets and worry about being stranded? Or how a simple tick or a whistle would send me into a panic attack? Another issue, another time where I had to use someone else. You were always there for me, but you were no longer reliable.

We had a lot of time together; you figured after Poohgy was taken away and Maw-Maw died, you were basically my best friend. You were with me with Dufus and Meggie when we evacuated in 2000. You helped me get into college. You made friends with my friends! They decorated you with love and buttons, stories bloomed about you. I took pictures on top of you! There were conferences behind you, specialty decorations because of you, and so, so many stories, baby.

As I signed over that check and took that paperwork, I felt like I had betrayed you. I just couldn't do it anymore.

How many people have keys anyway? It used to be a sign of trust; my roommate, my partner, my parents. Now it's aunts and uncles, friends in faraway states.

How many couples have you observed, started, ended, sheltered? How many were taught your ways? How many were counseled?

I had wanted to tell you: Gracie left my parents earlier this year, and she had been with us ten years longer that YOU had. Maybe you'll see her. And maybe Poohgy too.

I also received an email from your godfather today. He wishes you well; I told him the news.

I know I left you again tonight, and you didn't see me tear up as I pulled out of the parking lot. Maybe it's petty. Maybe it's childish. But the truth is this has upset me in more ways than I care to imagine. They told me you would be going to a warmer retirement home; they may be lying, but it made me happy for a spell.

Please watch over us, me and your new counterpart, whom I'm thinking of calling "Onyx." He's just a baby, and he doesn't know what it's like to be in a long haul with me. Give us your blessing?


I love you, and already miss you. I know others will as well. I don't know what is going to happen from here, baby, but you'll always be loved by me...

... along with many others, documented on your ceiling.

Please feel free to leave your favorite Kermit stories here, for all of us to remember.

It's nice to not have to go anywhere during a snowstorm. But being sick and trying to uncover your car is decidedly made of a fail.

I woke up this morning to the sound of a snow shovel being scraped across cement. I knew it was my landlord taking care of the stairs and walkways, so I snuggled back down, assessing my current sick condition and catching another hour of sleep.

After reheating some corn chowder (which may become my new "sick" soup), I decided to bundle in trusty sweatpants and non-trusty sneakers, grab a snow shovel, and go to town. I saw that my steps had been cleared off, so I was optimistic about the state of Kermit.

Alas, it was optimism spent too soon.

Not only did they not even TOUCH my back steps, they plowed in Kermit. While they had cleared everything else around the lot, they moved all of the snow on top of Kermit, along with my walkway. So my steps were clear, but I needed to step over two feet of snow to get to solid cement. Awesome, guys, just awesome.

I did one pass unearthing poor Kermit, then needed to come in, take off my pants, and re-learn how to breathe. I felt like an asthmatic; any little bit of physical activity, I was already wheezing and snotting everywhere. I called my upstairs neighbor, told her of the circumstance, and she offered to help me dig him out, along with pushing if need be.

I did another pass while waiting for her to come over. Then I saw this when I got to the other side of Kermit, the side that faces away from my house:

Awesome.

She called afterward, and stated she would help dig him out if need be. I told her bluntly, "I'm not wearing any pants." I then stated she was truly my friend since she would be coming into my house while I was pants-less. She laughed at this.

She walked in later, and said, "Wow, you're really not wearing pants."

"Um, nope! Told you so!"

Honestly, this is the most snow I think I have seen since the blizzard of 2003. It just fell all night. It's the white powdery kind, which is awesome for cleaning OFF your car, but not good for DRIVING your car anywhere. I found some pictures on my computer about Kermit in snow. Between this journal and geocities going down, at least I still have my pictures, so yay! Here's a little photo background for you.

Kermit in Past Snows:

Kermit's First Snow! Well, his first real snow, when I went with Smurf up to Connecticut for Turkey Day in 2002.


Kermit in the Blizzard of 2003, when we were shut down for days, locked in the dorm with Mary K and Rich Mackin, and took forever to unbury our cars. Ahhh, memories. It took both me and Rich to dig him out; it was kinda like that today, ugh.
Back to today, thankfully, however, I was able to get Kermit out of his spot without needing rock salt or having my neighbor push, so all in all, today is a good day.

I'm back in my comfy Pooh flannel PJ pants, and am going to figure out what to do for dinner. I know tomorrow will be traumatic, as will the morning drive and what not, but I'll have more on that later. Right now, I'm just trying to not snuffle everywhere, and figure out how to rearrange my house again. I had big plans for this weekend, as it's the last I'll be spending here until the new year due to holidays. And I'm still not happy with where things are, presents aren't wrapped/got, and I should do some laundry...

... but I don't want to trudge through three feet of snow to get to the laundry room, kthnx.

I talked to Aunt Fran earlier today, and she said she had two feet of snow in Pasadena. I didn't believe her, but then I read the local paper, and she's not that far off.

After taking aforementioned greenie meanies and crawling into bed, I awoke around 1030 hotter than hell. I turned off my heat, opened my bedroom door, and curled under the covers for another couple of hours. I woke up around 1300, with a text from my father, asking if I got snow and if I could get out.

Oh, what in the sam hell is this?

I bounced around my apartment for awhile, blissfully congested but not dripping. I cooked a lot, made that pot roast, and generally unpacked boxes and finished my online shopping. It just kept billowing around. I spoke with my upstairs neighbor, whom was stranded at her whatever's house, and had been snowed sufficiently in after only four dates.

Finally, Bluejay woke up, complaining that the Valley didn't get as much snow as I did. For comparison, I pulled up the entry when I was snowed in earlier this year, back in March when I had only lived/worked here a month. That snow ain't got NOTHING on this snow. Please see below:

Back stairs in March of 2009.

Back stairs as of a couple hours ago.

Front stairs in March of 2009.

Front stairs as of a couple hours ago.
Do you see that? THE BOTTOM OF KERMIT IS MISSING. I took the turkey off my front door and there was SNOW on my TURKEY. How am I going to get out? Or get Kermit out for that matter? I forgot to buy kitty litter, bah. And I don't know if the county brine is still good/around from last winter.

Originally, the idea was to call out on Monday if I was still sick...

... now it's going to be because I can't get out of my apartment.

Again, I haven't finished my updates (yes, there's a few) or what I wanted to talk about, but tonight, I thought I would post this.

Originally, I had heard we were expecting 3-5 inches this weekend. I figured that would be fine; as this is my last weekend in Catonsville before the end of the year, I wanted to mail off some things, clean out Kermit, unpack, clean my kitchen, etc.

Then I talked to Momma. Momma stated she was currently getting rain and that we would get 12-15 INCHES throughout this snowstorm.

WHAT?

When I talked about this in the Starship, I got the look of "What? You don't listen to the news?" It was cold throughout the day, but decidedly calm-before-storm type weather. It was hard to believe that in a few hours, we would have that much snow.

I've also begun to feel sick, to the point where I'm generally snotty and miserable, but not knock-down drag-out plague. I was doing so good this year; hadn't got really sick at all, which I accounted to no longer being in direct care. I don't know where I caught it, but it's not funny.

Driving Kermit home this evening, I heard on the radio that now, we're expecting EIGHTEEN TO TWENTY-FOUR INCHES, and additionally, I'll be getting more snow than those in the Valley, which is NOT FAIR. TWO FEET OF SNOW? The only thing I can agree to is the fact that it's the weekend, so at least I don't have to drive in it.

Original idea:
· Mail off boxes back to QVC
· Clean out Kermit
· Buy wrapping paper

New idea:
· Make pot roast
· Live under Sherpa
· Try not to snot all over Six-Foot-Three

(Is it sad that my first response when hearing the snow was to hook up the N64 so we could play Mario Party for DAYS?)

They stated it was supposed to start at midnight. At 2300, I looked outside and Kermit already had a fine dusting.

You lie, weather guy!

So, I looked up online to see what all the hub-bub was about, and found this:

Which immediately, in my brain, translated to:


So, yeah. Going to be me and my Sherpa, some greenie meanies, and making a pot roast...

... oh, what an exciting time of year it is!