Fog

It's weird getting back into the real world, where things like jobs and duties matter. If it wasn't for the pile of work waiting on my desk, I'd never have thought I'd left--like I'd just stepped into some parallel universe that allowed me to fire a gun my father brought back from Vietnam, watched my family crumble into broken sobs through my own tears, and drive and drive and drive.

I realize though, that once I get back on track and set into my old routine, things will feel a bit more normal and a bit less numb.

Here's to a good weekend.

Finding Distractions

Right now, I'm either in Texas or on my way to Texas. I'm probably talking with my father about how insane my grandmother was, how she used to park on the freeway and say that other cars would stop because "I was here first," how we'd take 2 a.m. trips to Wal-Mart, or how we were always supposed to go to church but she slept until noon every time. Perhaps I'm laughing with my brothers about the drunk she used to harbor or about her dog that always looked like it my shiver itself to pieces.

Or I'm at my computer, trying to bury myself in my own stories. My fictitious world that only has to deal with the deaths and lives that I can control. Or I'm reading someone else's story, letting them carry me through the preset path the figured out the logistics to long ago. Maybe in the midst of remembering my grandmother, I'm trying to forget her just as quickly.

Regardless, this is the filler for today. I've lined up a bonus Gibberish for Monday. And by the time I come back to voice my thoughts, this will be over. You will have forgotten my grandmother. And, in some ways, I hope I'll have done the same.

Back Again

This weekend was an odd one, being both busy and relaxing.

On Saturday, my wife and I wandered around the Arbor Day Farm in Nebraska City. I'd hoped it would be more pretty like, full of changing leaves and the smell of the coming winter. Instead, it was as if half of the trees decided to keep their leaves and their mighty green shade, while the other half thought it best to just drop their load in one fell swoop and forgo the whole, color change, pretty phase. All in all though, it was a pleasant day, and it made us feel like we were in some mighty forest--even if it is just Nebraska. That was topped off by some good times with friends, spent in discussion and the watching of Brad Bird's under appreciated gem, The Iron Giant.

Then, yesterday, saw the glorious finish of my critical essay and the somber--albeit peaceful--finish to an extraordinary life. A woman from my church had her funeral yesterday. She was only 28. It's impossible not to consider your own life during such a time, whether or not you've touched anyone's life--especially in the light of someone that had, so visibly, affected so many lives. But if I continue on, I'll just slip into cliches (which is a sad fact in and of itself, that we can't write about death without sounding like parrots).

Anyway, happy day to you all. Gibberish tomorrow. I'm thinking another robot week is in order.