Seems pretty self-explanatory to me.
Strangers in Paradise
I can either write a really happy “OH GOD IT’S LISA-MAS DAY” type of chronicle or I can be utterly depressing.
Let’s do both.
I haven’t been feeling too hot as of late. Other than the usual melee of crap running around in my head, there really isn’t nothing that is driving me nuts but maybe the onslaught of my birthday. Everything is coming up Lisa recently but, the problem is that I cannot stop obsessing about the fact that I am getting older. It’s a part of life and i have accepted it as such. as i told Chuck last night on AIM, I’ll always feel 17 in my head. He said he felt 22. It works out perfect.
Anyway, last night I got home and there was a package from my mother in the mail. I was surprised actually that she sent me something because lately I’ve been thinking that I wouldn’t receive even a phone call from her or my dad. So Cat, Justin and I were talking when I opened up the package. Inside I found the following items:
- The deed to the house on Paris St that my mother bought for 70k in 1990. The house is being sold as part of her bankruptcy.
- Original marriage license dated July 2, 1971 for Marietta K. Preiss and Edison K. Rabey
- Immigration and naturalization papers for one Lisa M. Rabey dated February 14, 1973.
- Photocopy for a “Complaint of Divorce” between one Marietta K. Rabey and Edison K. Rabey dated January 22, 1974.
- Original copy of above.
- Certificate of baptism for one Lisa M. Rabey dated July 7th, 1973.
- Birth Certificate for one Edison K. Rabey, born May 22, 1927 in Gaspe Bay North, Quebec Canada to Thomas M. Rabey and Sarah McFee.
- Certificate of my first communion dated May 4th, 1980.
- Certificate of my confirmation dated April 13th, 1986.
- One “child identification card” for Lisa M. Rabey, dated 4.12.86. I stood 5’10 and 160lbs.
- Copy of baptismal certificate.
- “Deans List” honor award, dated May 1, 1988 while i was in high school.Mixed along that list was a cartoon my mom sent me (any cartoon she finds that seemingly is high tech or applicable to me, she sends to me) and a letter. Her beautiful handwriting on pink paper.
i read the letter to cat and justin. parts that i couldn’t read, i handed to cat to decipher for us. i joked that in high school her handwriting made it damn hard to copy for “excused absences” when i was off skipping. her letter pretty much said the same thing her letters have been saying as of late. she’s broke. she needs money. an itinerary of her complaints. cat almost cried when i put the letter down. we couldn’t figure out as a collective why she would send me the above stuff and that letter. dated June 2, 1999. arrived June 11, 1999. she didn’t even acknowledge or wished me a happy birthday.
there are about three people in the world that i’m in contact with who know of me from when I was living in Michigan: Sherry, Shelly, Jenni and Danny. Since I communicate with Jenni, Danny and Shelly on-line now, they know (or rather verify) that my mother is nucking futs. or fucking nuts. I emailed Shelly last night right before I watched Swingers with cat and justin.
We’re gonna spend half the night driving around the Hills looking for one party and then leaving ’cause it sucks, then we’re gonna look for this other party you heard about. But, Trent, all the parties and bars, they all suck. I spend half the night trying to talk to some girl who’s eyes are darting around to see if there’s someone more important she should be talking to. And it’s like I’m supposed to be happy ’cause she’s wearing a backpack? Half of them are nasty skanks who wouldn’t be shit if they weren’t surrounded by a bunch of drunken horny assholes. I’m not gonna be one of those assholes. I want to throw up. Some fuckin’ skank who is half the woman my girlfriend is is gonna front me? It makes me want to fuckin’ puke!
yesterday was d-day at work. i had to have Y2K crap ready to go for FirstWorld and since all the idiots didn’t get it on time, I didn’t have it finished. And my own stuff wasn’t finished. I was running around like a chicken with her head cut off pulling systems apart. one of the jacks was dead and i couldn’t repatch it via the hub. two computers died on me. otto ripped apart four machines and dumped them in my cubicle to get finished. i said fuck it and left at 8pm. i’ll deal with the shit on Sunday.
Mike has been pushing me to write my book. i started getting all defensive about it and said something really nasty about his cartoons. i couldn’t believe i said it. after i said it, i opened mouth and inserted foot. i kept apologizing up and down to him and i still felt aghast at what i had said. and he said, “yeah i understand, it’s only my lifes work.” all i kept thinking about last night when i got home from work was how awful i felt for saying it. so in conversation last night, he asks me if i had purchased Strangers in Paradise yet. I said no. So I hurried off to amazon.com and bought it. i think it’s important to him that i ‘get’ why he loves cartoons (yeah he’s a kick ass artist. i got two Mikey comix for my birthday signed. i suddenly became cool in my office for his rendition of me looking at flowers).
I’ve never gotten into comix because, well, i dunno. just never thought about it before. in turn, he asked me to recommend a book to him for him to read. we went through a few possibilities and i hit the nail on the head with Heinlein. Since my turn on to Heinlein was by Jeff who thought I would dig it, I suggested Time Enough For Love as a good intro to his work. Mike agreed it seemed good, so as a surprise I ordered it for him. Hey, i’ve been feeling down the last few days and shop when i’m depressed. Thus explains the two new CDs, darth maul poster and other crap I’ve bought on-line. I didn’t think anything about it. So when I told him what I had done, he said he felt uncomfortable with it. I understood that and cancelled the order. Mike even mentioned it in his journal.
even though I understood it, i felt worse. I had insulted him twice. i wasn’t doing anything right, it felt like. it wasn’t me talking, it was the depression i was feeling.
mike kept turning the conversation around and we started talking about my book.
i sent him the two possible starter chapters i had worked on a year ago and he liked them.
now all i have to do is write it, he says. he wants me to send chapter by chapter as i go along. giving objective opinion.
jaffo said to be prepared to say “fuck you” to anyone who says anything to me about writing.
he’s on page 200 and something into his novel.
he’s my hero.
From a TLC reader:
“you know, it’s weird you should write about ICQ random searches… Nov. of 97,
Crystal did a random search, found me… I lived in FL, she in MO, to make a
long story short (as I figured that’s the kind you’d like, if you like them at
all 🙂 ) I came up to MO to visit my grandfather the day after Christmas of
97, met Crystal on the 28th, we were engaged on Jan 1st 98, I moved here Jan.
12, 98, and we’re getting married two weeks from today…
BTW… happy birthday :)”
it’s 5:11pm and it’s my birthday. it seemed the more i sat here writing the more depressed i got. i went and did a few shots of liquid courage (ie: Skyy Vodka) and i feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I need to shake myself out of this.
Sonya just called and said that i had to bring girls over for the party tonight as only a few females are confirmed for showing up. All my female friends that I have invited couldn’t make it. I said “who cares” — let me make an ass out of myself tonight. It’s my fscking birthday!
I want to thank everyone for the flowers, books, cd’s, chocolates, cards and other goodies that I have gotten for my birthday. Every present was as unique as the person who sent them. You guys rock. I love you all.
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