jedusor: (seattle gay pride)
Remember when I said that the story of me and Ava was narratively perfect in a pretentious literary-fiction sort of way?

I just found these socks she gave me. I think we were fifteen, or I was fourteen and she was fifteen, and she was living in Thailand for a year through an exchange program. I can't believe it's been more than a decade. She found these socks at a place selling recycled American tourist crap, along with pirated DVDs and such, and she got them for me because I was just coming out of my Lord of the Rings RPF phase and she thought it was funny. It was funny--I wore them so much the cheap fabric gave up the ghost a year or two later, and then I just kept them for sentimental reasons. After she died, everything she'd given me got sad, so I tucked them in the back of my sock drawer and forgot about them.

My friend is having a clothing exchange today, so I was going through my dresser, and I found them again. They're ankle socks, pink, printed with the message I ♥ ORLANDO.

I'm telling you, I'm living in some stuck-up first-year MFA student's early draft of the great American novel, and I can feel the poor prof's forehead thunking against the manuscript.

in peace

Mar. 12th, 2015 02:26 pm
jedusor: (neuron art)
At some point in my teens, several celebrities I'd only vaguely heard of died in quick succession. A lot of the people I knew were upset about one or another of them, and it occurred to me that I'd never been truly distressed by the death of a famous person. Bummed out, sure, but never sad like I would be for someone I'd known personally. I wondered if I didn't connect to celebrities like other people did, or if I just hadn't been around long enough for the ones I cared about to die. I thought: was there anyone famous whose death would really get to me?

Terry Pratchett, I decided. If he died, I'd be upset.

A lot of people are digging up Discworld quotes about death, and that is good and right and I appreciate them, but I'm... not able to sum it up in a quote right now. I'm not really able to sum it up in anything. Teen me, you called this one.
jedusor: (seattle gay pride)
I'm not generally too emotionally affected by death and horror in the news. I'm good at staying detached, and I see that as a good thing, for the most part. I know people who get overwhelmed by all the nasty shit that happens in the world, and it's hard for them. I think most Americans are pretty good at keeping their emotional distance from things that happen in other countries, and only get really invested when there are other Americans involved. Sometimes that seems hypocritical to me, but that's actually bullshit, unless they're faking it. Emotional reactions are what they are, and I shouldn't judge other people's. It makes sense for people to be most affected by events they feel close to. My knee-jerk accusations of hypocrisy are just me being defensive about the fact that I don't cry over school shootings.

This Boston Marathon thing, though. This shook me up. A big part of that, I'm sure, is that Patrick Burke was running the marathon for You Can Play, and live-tweeting the experience, and it took a while after the explosions for him to update the internet about his well-being. I already end up in tears every time I spend too much time thinking about Brendan Burke's death and legacy; I don't know how I would handle it if anything happened to Patrick. I don't know him personally, aside from a couple of Twitter interactions, but I follow his Twitter account religiously and his work with YCP matters to me on a level I'm not sure it's possible to explain.

Patrick's last tweet before the news of the explosions broke was, "If I don't make it through this, I want my last words to be: I love my family. I love hockey. And I hate the instigator rule." Or something like that. He's deleted that tweet now, for obvious reasons.

Another possible reason that this has affected me so much is that the last time I was at the place where the explosions happened, it was during the 2009 Boston Marathon. I jaywalked through the marathon itself, as a matter of fact; I hadn't known the marathon would be happening that day, and found myself on the opposite side of it from the store I'd made the long pilgrimage from Worcester to visit. That was approximately half a block away from the intersection where the second explosion went off. I didn't actually remember that incident until I clicked through to the Boston Globe's graphic of the area hours after the explosions happened, but I know well enough that brains sometimes pick up on things without necessarily letting you know.

When I decided I'd had enough of refreshing Twitter for updates on the situation in Boston, I went to the park for a while. I put on my socks that Ava gave me, the pink ankle socks with I ♥ ORLANDO on them that she got for me in Thailand, where everything was dirt-cheap and slightly nonsensical. They have giant holes in the heels now--I wore them so much in my mid-teens that they were already falling apart when Ava died, and I don't think I've worn them since. I felt the urge today, though, because humans are strange and sometimes tragedy loves company. I swung on the swings for quite a long time, and I tried to sort out my thoughts and feelings. I'm pretty good at feelings, despite what those of you who know my fandom tastes might think. I know how they work. I just don't like them very much.

I spent a lot of time in parks when I was a teenager, swinging on swings. I thought at the time that I was escaping my family, but it turns out that even when you don't have to share your space with five other people and three to four animals, sometimes it helps to go to a park and swing for a while.

The Coyotes/Sharks game is about to start. Phoenix is barely clinging to the edge of their playoff hopes, and Smitty's out with an injury again, damn it. I don't even know what LaBarbera's deal is. But Johnson's been good for us in net the few times he's had to play this season, so I'm optimistic. Hockey is a good thing to think about. I'm gonna go think about that.
jedusor: (sad world)
Yesterday, Grandmother Edith (Bill's grandmother, so my step-great-grandmother) died of complications from a broken arm. A few minutes ago, my mom called me to tell me that Grandma, her mother, passed away today. Both women led long lives and had been ill for a while, so these are not surprises, but we're all sad to have lost them.

I'm doing okay for the moment. Mostly worried about Grandpa, but he's got people out there taking care of him.
jedusor: (Default)
Carlin passed away at 5:55pm today.

I was never a huge fan of his written work, but his comedy routines were excellent, and he was far and away the best character in Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.
jedusor: (seattle gay pride)
macabresinclair says: You know how AA Milne was remembered, not for his novels or his brilliant criticisms and essays and things, which he wrote loads and loads of, but for his children's stories?
macabresinclair says: I think that, 100 years from now, I will not be remembered for my (brilliant!) novels or (witty!) essays, but instead for my Carebear slashfic
-Ava Garcia, 9/4/89-5/21/08

Abigail Joy Garcia was the only person I have ever been in love with. )
jedusor: (seattle gay pride)
Ava died in a car accident on Wednesday.

I haven't processed this yet. At all. But in a few minutes, I'm going to fall apart.

Edit: Ava's mom asked me to tell her LJ friends, so just in case you knew her: she was [livejournal.com profile] androidlovesong, formerly known as [livejournal.com profile] macabresinclair. Her name was Abigail Garcia; she used to go by Abby but switched to Ava when she started going to Reed College. I think I have her [livejournal.com profile] macabresinclair password somewhere; I'll put up a post there if I find it.

Still in shock.

Madeleine

Sep. 8th, 2007 12:28 am
jedusor: (looking at the stars)
Josh and Megan's baby was born on August 31st. They named her Madeleine, after Madeleine L'Engle.

If I am ever in the position of having a novel rejected by a publisher, I know I'll find consolation in the fact that A Wrinkle In Time was rejected by twenty-six of them.

I should reread it.

Hey...

Apr. 12th, 2007 09:55 am
jedusor: (cry inside)
Kurt Vonnegut is dead?

:(
jedusor: (sad world)
It's been a year. )
jedusor: (pintsize hal)
Junior: I have to take another history class.
Me: Take Sanford if you can. Gibson if you can't get Sanford. You know, a Penn Valley history teacher died over break.
Junior: Really? Who?
Me: Mack.
Junior: You're kidding.
Me: Nope.
Junior: I withdrew from his class! They said I had to take the same professor again or I'd get an F. He's dead?
Me: Yep.
Junior: I can't have an F on my transcript! I mean, God rest his soul and everything, but I'm going to talk to Records about this right now.
jedusor: (sad world)
Ray's boyfriend, E.J., died. I think this is the fourth boyfriend Ray has lost to AIDS.

The service is on Saturday. I don't know whether I'm going. I didn't know E.J. that well, and Ray knows absolutely everybody, so he'll have plenty of support. I still might, though.

And I've definitely got what Sharai's got, because I'm losing my voice.
jedusor: (Default)
Merry Christmas, those of you who celebrate it.

Happy Monday, those of you who don't.

RIP, James Brown.
jedusor: (sad world)
Day is done... gone the sun...

I'm surprised he lasted this long. Still, though, I'm unhappier about it than I expected to be. I mean, the Crocodile Hunter is gone.

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