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.
jedusor: (seattle gay pride)
If I were the protagonist, it would have made sense for Ava to die.

I wasn't kidding when I said she was the only person I've ever been in love with. I've been in a good, strong relationship for five years, and I've loved plenty of people, but I'm pretty much aromantic. I don't do in love. The only reason I did it with Abby, I think, was because she herself was so madly in love with love. She bought into it, all of it, real odds-defying reason-scrambling Princess-Bride-style true love, and if I could give her any of that, I had to. Like being GGG about a kink that drives your partner wild, and discovering that it actually works for you just because they're so into it.

It's frustrating beyond belief, how narratively perfect our story was, in a pretentious literary-fiction sort of way. The last time I saw her in person was at her driver's ed class, did I tell you that? It was in Arizona in early summer--June, I think--and the heat was overwhelming. She didn't seem to mind; she'd grown up in it, and I know her mother has always loved the desert. We'd spent the night making pie and kissing and laughing and not sleeping very much, and in the morning her mother took her to driver's ed class and I came along. That might have been the car she died in; I'm not sure, but it's likely, and if so, talk about foreshadowing. We dropped her off, and then Tamara took me to the motel where my mom was staying, or maybe she took me back to their house and Mom picked me up, I wasn't paying a whole lot of attention.

She was learning a lesson that night, I think, and then I learned a very different lesson, and then she died in a car accident, and the reader would remember the driver's ed and maybe the car if it really was the same one--in a story, it would have been more clear than it is in my memory--and it would have been satisfying. Because if I were the protagonist, of course the girl I fell in love with would die.

If Ava were the protagonist (and Christ, if ever anyone were a born protagonist) it wouldn't have been pretentious literary fiction and no one would have had to die. It would have been a light little romance story about a vivacious heroine meeting a cynical love interest who doesn't believe in romance, and maybe it would have ended at pie and kisses. Or maybe it would have been a more modern story--we were both girls, after all--and she would have gone off to college and grown up on her own terms and then run into me a few years later, which did happen. Maybe it would have ended just before she died, when we were finally talking again, and anything could have happened. She wouldn't have died. Nobody dies in romance stories except older relatives whose funerals provide convenient scenarios for emotional vulnerability.

I don't spend that much time thinking about this, really. If I did, my life would be miserable, and it's not. I'm happy. Just... not happily-ever-after. Really, really not that.
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: (*hug* doesn't cut it)
The list )

Most of you were around when Ava died, and read what I had to say about her then. (If not, it's all under my "smooshbaby" tag.) She's definitely the one who comes to mind when I think of my first love.

She's not the only one who could fit that label. My first serious crush was on a boy I met at a juggling festival when I was maybe eleven, and lasted perhaps a month after the festival. I never saw him again, and I never really knew him in the first place. My first kiss was also at a juggling festival (the same one, in fact) two years later, but that slipped into platonic friendship almost immediately. He just happened to be available and interested around the time when I decided I was ready to try this "making out" I'd heard so much about. Leo, don't even get me started--I was his first love, for sure, but any chance he had of being mine was gone at the first suicide threat. I had a girlfriend when I was thirteen and a boyfriend when I was fourteen, but those relationships were all about experimenting with societal norms.

Ben Riggs was a lot closer to love than any of those. That crush was never reciprocated. Perhaps it would have sizzled out like the others if we'd dated. As it was, I spent a long time frustrated, wanting to make him like me, and in the process somewhat accidentally developed a close friendship with him. He told me at one point that I was his best friend. I was surprised to discover that this meant more to me than anything physical would have, and by the time we grew apart, I'd learned more about relationships than I had from any of my official SOs thus far.

But my Abby... that was different. This isn't just post-funeral rose-colored glasses--I felt this way long before she died. She wasn't the first one I spent months mooning over, but she was the first one who also spent months mooning over me. She probably just latched onto me because she so desperately wanted to try falling in love and I was a good prospect, but I still wonder if that's just cynicism left over from what happened afterward, because during those months, we were both so certain. It was the first time in my life that I was completely willing to commit to a long-term relationship. Even with the context of the years since, and even knowing how it would have ended in wrenching heartbreak, I stand by that. If it had been right for her, it would have been right for me.
jedusor: (pintsize duct-taped)
Most of you know that someone who was very important to me, Ava Garcia, died in 2008. Ava was a writer, in my opinion an excellent one. Although she was only eighteen, she was fairly prolific, and I have a good-sized store of her writing on my computer.

Back in October, just after what would have been her twentieth birthday, I made an LJ with the intention of posting her writing for others to read. It stayed there untouched for a few months, and now I think I'm going to start updating it.

So, if you'd like to read: [ profile] what_ava_wrote

I've posted a few things already: a piece she wrote about herself as an introduction, an original short story, a Harry Potter fanfic, and a poem. I don't know how often I'll update it, but it shouldn't be too spammy--not more often than once a week, I expect.

One year

May. 21st, 2009 05:04 am
jedusor: (ava calendar)

She smiled in a big way
the way a girl like that smiles
when the world is hers
She held your eyes
out in the breezeway
down by the shore
in the lazy summer

And she pulled you in
and she bit your lip
and she made you hers
She looked deep into you as you lay together
quiet in the grasp of dusk and summer

but you've already lost
but you've already lost
but you've already lost
when you only had barely enough
to hang on

She combed your hair
and she kissed your cheek
and she made you better
than you'd been before
And she told you bad things
you wished you could change
in the lazy summer

And she told you laughing
down to her core
so she would not cry
as she lay in your lap
she said
Nobody here can live forever
quiet in the grasp of dusk and summer

but you've already lost
but you've already lost
but you've already lost
when you only had barely enough
to hang on

And she said no one is alone
the way you are alone
And you held her looser
than you would've if you ever could have known
Some things tie your life together
Slender threads and things to treasure
Days like that should last and last and last

but you've already lost
but you've already lost
but you've already lost
when you only had barely enough
of her to hang on
hang on
hang on
hang on
jedusor: (please?)
This is a really neat project [ profile] saxikath is working on, sending hats to kids with cancer. I don't knit, but I know a lot of people who do, so I'm passing the word along. Check it out.

In sort of the same vein, I talked to Ava's mother yesterday, and she told me that the five people who received Ava's organs are all doing well, which is awesome. I told her about Neil Gaiman linking the calendar on his blog, and she said that Ava's spirit was probably jumping around screaming with excitement. :)
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 [ profile] androidlovesong, formerly known as [ 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 [ profile] macabresinclair password somewhere; I'll put up a post there if I find it.

Still in shock.
jedusor: (Default)
Julia Sabin: know what makes me sad?
Julia Sabin: the jolly green giant
deathbyapocalyps: why?
Julia Sabin: i mean, all he does is promote vegetables
Julia Sabin: what a meaningless existence
Julia Sabin: also, he's GREEN
Julia Sabin: i wouldn't want to be green
deathbyapocalyps: I dunno
deathbyapocalyps: I think it would be kind of cool. Not as cool as being blue, though.
Julia Sabin: definitely not
deathbyapocalyps: I mean, you could blend in with things.
Julia Sabin: and what's with the hands-on-hips stance?
deathbyapocalyps: It shows that he is manly and conqueror of all the vegetables he sees.
Julia Sabin: how manly do you have to BE to conquer vegetables?
Julia Sabin: those carrots are reeeaaally tough to bag, i guess
deathbyapocalyps: Vegetables are easy to conquer, like cows. It's the people that already own the vegetables that are difficult.
deathbyapocalyps: Vampire bunnies, you know.
Julia Sabin: if i were trying to conquer vegetable owners, i'd go for the farmers, not the vampire bunnies
Julia Sabin: the vampire bunnies' carrots would have teeth marks, and they'd be bleeding and screaming
deathbyapocalyps: no no no
deathbyapocalyps: the vampire bunnies fight BACK
Julia Sabin: because bunnies are ruthless like that
deathbyapocalyps: they don't like you taking over their vegetables'
deathbyapocalyps: they are everywhere
Julia Sabin: right, so take the farmers' carrots
Julia Sabin: avoid the bunnies
Julia Sabin: perhaps procuring vegetables isn't as easy as i thought, but i wouldn't call it MANLY
Julia Sabin: know what?
Julia Sabin: i bet the jolly green giant is gay
deathbyapocalyps: OMG HE SO IS
Julia Sabin: he's trying to overcome his insecurities by battling vampire bunnies to prove his masculinity
deathbyapocalyps: no straight man would have the confidence to go around all day in a leaf kilt.
Julia Sabin: that too
Julia Sabin: dude, we have the secret
deathbyapocalyps: We do
deathbyapocalyps: blackmail
Julia Sabin: what would we blackmail him for, canned peas?
Julia Sabin: THE BUNNIES
Julia Sabin: the ones he's conquered!


Jan. 29th, 2005 11:02 pm
jedusor: (Default)
Hee. I love Gandalf's expression in the third frame. The quote is from "Army of Darkness," which I do not recommend.

[ profile] macabresinclair, e-mail me please. *is a dork and lost your e-mail address again*

...I just burst into tears. Out of the blue. For absolutely no reason whatsoever. And then stopped after about twenty seconds, and now I feel fine again. What the fuck????

Yay, Damento in less than a week! *dances happily*

My playlist just went:
"Time Warp"- Rocky Horror Picture Show
"The Luckiest"- Ben Folds
"Atwa"- System Of A Down
"Drive My Car"- The Beatles

And to top off this randomest-of-the-random post, Ben in a doo rag:

EDIT: Everybody go post messages here! It's such a cool idea!


Jan. 27th, 2005 06:38 pm
jedusor: (Default)
Hey, Webster's! We've got an addition for you!

So, you know that feeling you get when you know someone only online, but you're in mad love with them anyway? When they comment on your journal or sign on IM, you get all happy and smiley and type many <3s? [ profile] macabresinclair and I were mourning the fact that there is no word for this kind of relationship, andd she promptly came up with one:

Pas·que·a (pash·kwee·ah): Internet-love. A deep like (romantic or platonic) of a person with whom one has only communicated via internet. Verb form pas·quee; adjective pas·quish; root words passion and squee. Examples of usage: "I pasquee you!" "She was filled with pasquea as her friend's screen name appeared on her buddy list." "The pasquish comment made a huge grin spread across his face."

Please post this in your blog and tell others about it, that we may spread the pasquish joy!
jedusor: (Default)
[ profile] macabresinclair made me ART!!!!!!!!! Go look! It's gorgeous and it has my name on it and everything! *bounces off the walls* And she's gonna give me the original when she eventually meets me. Wheeeeeee!

What happened today? We're having pizza and my brothers each have a friend over. I think that's it.

But wheeeeeeeeeee!
jedusor: (Default)
He hates her. Not with the simple, childish loathing he has for Potter that is seamlessly absolute; neither with the subtle, vicious hatred for his father, who is as wonderful and terrible as God; no – his hatred of her burns hot, passionate, flickering and roaring, fed by nothing but disgust for her and all she is and consumed by the need to disobey and rebel from all he is by loving her.

[ profile] macabresinclair wrote me some KICKASS Ginny/Draco love-hate! Go read!

So yeah, life has been okay. Yesterday I hung around downtown all day. In the hardware store, an old lady (like 80 years old, and about five feet tall) complimented my zipper pants. It was awesome. Then I think I made some Hispanic construction workers nervous by watching them cut open the street. I went to Bizarroworld, and Ground Zero (a skate store with way too much pink to be a skate store), and several bookstores, and a bunch of other places, and on the way back I stopped at the truffle shop. I got an apricot rum truffle, and the shop owner gave me an extra champagne one 'cause he's cool like that, and I stopped to watch this guy Brian teach his dad how to play chess. I played the dad after they were done, but Brian was hovering over his dad's shoulder telling him what to do and the shop owner Sonny was hovering over mine doing exactly the same thing, so really I wasn't the one who won.

Today I went to the old homeschool Park Day, and saw Catherine (along with the twins and Clara), Grace, Rain, and a bunch of other people I hadn't seen in forever. Rain dyed her hair blue-black and started wearing makeup, so I didn't recognize her at first. She's a lot cooler than I remember her being. We did bad things with Wite-Out, and talked about life. She might maybe possibly be moving to Kansas City, which is where her mom lived until age nine. I went with her to watch her ballet lesson (she looks awfully strange in ballet garb) then we hung around downtown again until eight-thirty, when the Davis Musical Theater Company's production of Evita started. We got in for free because there were reporters there and they wanted it to look like lots of people showed up. While we were waiting for the theater to open, this guy handed us flyers for a rock band performance at Cafe Roma. The bands were called The Cheese and Red Tape Apocalypse, so we decided to go check it out during the fifteen-minute intermission. We ran all the way to Cafe Roma, to find a guy with a harmonica singing about love. Clearly, this was not our destination, so we checked the other Roma (Espresso Roma) and found them messing with mikes and stuff. After about five minutes of sitting there, and random noises from the mikes, the band started playing. If you could call it "playing." It sounded like random VERY-high-decibel noise with whale-call imitations mixed in. We left pretty quickly, eardrums literally hurting and headaches forming in our brains, to find that we'd missed a crucial part of the musical. I didn't like the music much anyway, and I don't know the history behind it, but it was still a disappointment. I did get Rain's LJ name, though.

Also, my aunt just e-mailed me, offering to fly me out to New York for Blair's sixteenth birthday party in April. I'll call Mom tomorrow and check, but it should be cool- my class schedule is Tuesday-Thursday and the party's on a Saturday. Yay party!


jedusor: (Default)

April 2017



RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 23rd, 2017 09:47 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios