In Remembrance of Two Beloved Comrades

after the introduction of a new soldier to the fish bowl, all three fish passed away. first was the newcomer, Major Agley, who brought a fatal disease with him from the dreaded lands of Super Wal-Mart. next came our beloved General Libido. Dictator Cadaverous tried in vain to push the General back up, but the General kept sinking, gasping and thrashing about on the floor of his fishbowl. General Libido passed shortly after, and Dictator Cadaverous died of heartbreak the very next day.

many tears were shed over these brave, brave soldiers... they will be remembered as two of the greatest goldfish i have ever known. for over a year, they stared me down as i mumbled secrets to them. they held their cautious gazes on me as i first told them, ever so giddily, that "i love him, guys," and they averted their eyes when needed, as polite fish should.

the betta, Lieutenant Prurient, remains healthy and vigorous, as he was not in the infected fishbowl. his presence is greatly appreciated in this time of grieving. i have not always confided in him as i had with the General and Dictator, but he is still a confidant, and i trust him with my secrets.

taking the place of General Libido and Dictator Cadaverous in the now-clean fishbowl is Corporal Jackson, the black moor. some changes have been made to the bowl (by my mother), and his survival cannot be guaranteed. bright pink and purple rocks are dangerous.

the Corporal is a handsome fish, and he is much larger than his predecessors. if he survives, he will prove to be a strong and capable soldier. we can only hope for his success.

So This is the Real World?

in order to achieve happiness, we do things that make us unhappy. we work mundane jobs to earn money, day in and day out, and if we ended up with our dream job, we sometimes learn to hate what we do. if we haven't found them yet, we wait for our one-and-only, sometimes suffering heartache after heartache and growing too bitter to truly appreciate our lover when we've found them. we grow old and cynical and watch everyone that we've known die off. this is what we live for? to flail around hopelessly until we've settled for a life we may not have hoped for? there is no helping what happens to anyone, is there?

a simple explanation to my current angst: grandpa rauscher's dead, evan's gone, i've got a job, i'm on my period.

i received a letter from evan today, but i can't write a response. i always intend to write something peppy and fun for him, but when i reread what i've written, it's like, "holy fuck, dani, what is wrong with you?" when i try to tell him anything, suddenly i sound depressed and horribly needy. i'm going to keep the letters i've decided not to send, and we'll see how big that stack gets.

i'm considering not sending any more at all. he doesn't receive my mail, anyway: for some reason, they're holding my letters from him. he gets letters from his mom, but not from me. i don't know why. maybe it's my bubbly address. the guys in charge over at basic take one look at my envelope and think, "pleasant plain road? THAT'S FOR PUSSY BOYS, WE DON'T NEED THIS SHIT HERE." that's what i'm going to assume is happening.

i'll be fine soon, i'm sure. i'm just having trouble coping because there is no one to talk to about this. i've tried talking to bethany and ashley, but they don't like when i do. they try to change the subject, and i understand completely. i'm terrible to talk to right now. i'm a mess. i dream about evan coming home and wake up snoggin' my pillow (obviously one of the more entertaining aspects of my emotional distress).

it's not just him, of course. rusty was at my grandpa's funeral, and he hugged me. the fuck kind of ex-dad wants a hug? of course, that's not the worst thing about the funeral. i felt horribly guilty about every way i had ever wronged grandpa, and grandma seemed so sincerely happy to see me... she's all alone at that big ole' farm now. she can't take care of all that land by herself. i know that older people sometimes just give up on life when their spouse dies, and i'm scared for grandma now. i'm scared for all my grandparents. any one of them could die at any second. my parents could die. anyone can die! life is full of uncertainties, and they're all hitting me hard.

i don't want to angst out on everyone, but i can't help it. the longer i go without letting it all out, the worse it gets. right? i guess i'll stay pretty bad until evan comes home in september. but he'll leave me for good in january, when he goes to college, and i'll have to experience this crippling loneliness all over again. fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, guys.

fuck.

A Lousy Start to Summer

evan left for basic training on tuesday morning. he has been gone for all of four days now, and i'm already unsure of myself and of everything around me. the sound on my computer isn't working, so i can't spend every day immersed in various anime's. i find myself bored of video games, and i don't really watch television (y'know, other than the stuff i watch on the internet). i'm bored and i'm lonely. i had hoped to discover that i can function just fine without evan, and i'm sure i will be able to at some point during this summer, but i can't for now.

the only things that will keep me out of my bed this summer are my new job and the constant hope for letters from evan. he has already sent me something; he ordered it before he left. it's this lovely (though slightly inappropriate) t-shirt from bustedtees.com. here, have a picture:



it's great, isn't it? for those of you who may not get it (if there's anyone out there who doesn't), that's a game cartridge. let's say your super nintendo game isn't playing. one solution is to pop out the game cartridge, blow into it, and pop it back in. it works more often than you might think. so that explains that.

i don't know when evan will be able to write me, but i look forward to seeing his messy handwriting again. i hope he's doing alright and not getting raped. he had a fear of puking all over the place; while i don't understand it, i still hope it doesn't happen.

and now for the awful news: i was informed today that my grandpa rauscher, the father of my biological dad, had a massive stroke. the doctors have given him maybe two or three days to live. the first thing i thought when i heard was, "who's gonna call me 'kiddo' now?" i haven't been close to the rauschers since before my biological dad legally disowned me. i had planned to drive out to lockridge to visit grandma and grandpa this summer, and that just makes me feel worse. i've procrastinated for so long, and now i'll never see him again. i'm nobody's 'kiddo' now.

for the last few years, i had only seen grandpa for eric's birthdays and my own. most of the time he would just sit in the car and wait for grandma to be done with me so that he could get home. when i would ask grandma where he was, she would say, "oh, his feet are hurting him," or something petty like that. it always made me wonder if he didn't love me anymore - i've been a terrible, neglectful granddaughter, haven't i? i kept thinking, "oh, they'll be there next summer break, i'll see them then." well, now he won't be. he promised me that he'd teach me to ride a horse... what was that? ten years ago? he said, "i'll teach you to ride a horse this summer," and i was so bitter when he didn't...

this isn't the first stroke he has had, and i never visited or called or anything when i heard about his first one. i was scared, and i cried, but he'll never know that. i've been so selfish and careless. i remember - i thought it was the silliest thing - when i was little, he would send me to the basement to get him a beer almost every time i went to visit. i would go down and get a freeze pop for myself and get him his beer and grandma would chide him for making his granddaughter get him alcohol. i always smiled when she did; they had a funny relationship.

i'm being selfish again: i'm not sure if i should go to his funeral. i want to, but my biological dad will be there and i haven't seen him in eight years and he's not supposed to see me without permission until i'm eighteen... i don't want to see him. i've had nightmares - actual sleep nightmares, not just bad thoughts - about having encounters with him, him being a villain with a maniacal laugh... it's silly, but i have dreamed that. i'll go to grandpa's funeral. i'll do my best to avoid rusty, i'll try not to be too sad when eric forces my long-lost half-brother to meet me, and i'll try to act like i belong at the funeral of a rauscher. what am i to them? a vague memory?

i love my grandpa. i've been stupid, and for the last several years i've said, "i don't know, i think it would be awkward if i went to visit them," but i always wished that it wouldn't be awkward at all. i always hoped that somehow it'd be exactly how it used to be: that i would go outside and climb on the hay bales, followed by my trusted feline companion, cubbie, just to be up higher than the horses. i hoped that grandpa would send me out to get the eggs from the chicken coop and scold me when i was too cowardly to lift the protective hens from their nests. i hoped that grandma would invite me downstairs, where i would watch her attempt, for the hundredth time, to clean up all the useless junk she has hoarded, and watch her put the useless junk back in the corner where she found it. i hoped that grandpa would say, "hey, kiddo!" when i walked through the door, i hoped that grandma would give me the big hugs that she used to...

i'm a coward. if it weren't for my cowardice, i would have gone to see my grandparents. i wouldn't be lamenting over lost time, i would be lamenting over the loss of a close relative. i feel awful, i feel guilty. i'll carry this guilt for the rest of my life; i just know i will.

i'm nobody's 'kiddo'.