it's 1:10 am, on April 21, 2003 - as I walk thru the valley of the shadow of death.

~

So, oh my god, am I tired. Ask me what I did this weekend.

No, really, ask me. I bet you can't guess. Really, I bet you can't. There's no way.

Well, okay, so I've been talking about this stupid death for the last two weeks, off and on and in annoyed tones, but yeah, that's what I did. And lemme tell you, praise the Lawd I'm home.

Drove to and fro all weekend just for the funeral. Well, and to be reminded that there's some family out there you just don't want to have around. Had my faith in the tenacity of human spirit re: teenagers and drinking reaffirmed. There were bugs at the cemetary, and while the minister was doing her god schick, everyone was trying very politely and quietly to swat the fuckers away.

As the minister started quoting "As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death" my sister almost laughed. Because, like, really. Coolio did "gangsta's paradise" and now that line'll never be the same. Her reactions to the quoting of scripture lent the proper amount of ridiculousness to the whole proceedings, however, so what the hell.

Yeah. so that's done. uh.

Seriously, I mean, I guess I should say something profound about the frailty of life, or how I'm feeling because of this sense of closure, but honestly. I was staring at the grass and thinking "In sh'Allah" the whole time. And in what, I think, was just the right sarcastic tone to take with them preacherin' folk.

So, yeah, then things were boring. Can I tell you how bored I was and still am? I'm so bored. I'm so bored I want to wash your floor. Can I come over? I'll bring my own mop. anything.

I was so bored this weekend that I voluntarily pulled out notes on Ovid to underline things randomly with a pencil. Voluntarily. I jumped for joy at the thought of watching the tv in the motel room just for something to do that wasn't hear about dogs or old stories or the extended family I never asked to have, don't know, don't even recognise, and yet whom all know me.

(Side note: The Birdcage was on. I thought watching the tail end of it was a perfect way to round out the whole biblical, family values trip.)

It's not that I'm against extended family, necessarily, it's just I'm pretty much against extended family. Especially extended family you can't take out back and shoot if you can't deal with rednecks, the old people, and the nineteen year old who's married and already pregnant.

it's kind of callous, and awful, that dad wasn't even at his own father's funeral, but he probably had the right idea. I mean, he likes those relatives, and he didn't even show up. Why the hell did we?

And just for the record, if anyone wants to know? a. I want cremation, b. I don't want a funeral or wake of any type, and c. in NO WAY do I EVER want to go back to Trail.

Next up on What's That Life: finals, pt. II!

~

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what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

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