Saturday, April 28 I did my first interview today, and it went okay, I guess. For the newspaper's career profile, I had to to interview a lifeguard. Originally, it was supposed to be a lifeguard at the beach, but worst came to worst (I needed permission from the mayor and the entire city council) and I had to eventually wander my way over (with my buddy, Mark) to the Jewish Educational Alliance. Unfortunately, I am very behind on all that is Jewish (I found out only two days ago that Jesus was indeed Jewish, and then I proceeded to wait for lightening to strike me) and thus forgot completely about Shabbat. Thus, it came to a mild surprise that a Jewish Educational Alliance would not be open on the "day of rest". Duh on me. The next stop was the Aquatic Center, where, thankfully, "Fred" was not working. However, a cute little lifeguard named Ross was on duty, and I took the sincere opportunity to ask him stupid questions in a highly flirtatious voice. He reminded me of a torn-up younger version of Owen Wilson. The interview was in a small office building that faced the inside pool, with Ross standing next to the confused and scared little me. Mark sat in a nearby chair and watched me make a fool out of myself. So, without further ado, here is the original copy of what was said, before it will be edited and re-arranged for everyone's future reading pleasure.
Me: How much are you paid per hour?
Ross: Uh, right now I'm getting six [dollars], but I'll be getting a raise soon.
Ok... what are your basic duties as a lifeguard?
Uh, first we have to keep the facility clean, make sure everyone's safe, protect everyone, uhm, make sure people aren't, uh, passing out or getting any injuries.
Uh, ok... did uhm, uh, did anything or anyone inspire you to become a lifeguard?
Uhm, I just needed a summer job and I knew everyone around here, so I figured I could do it.
Did you try for any other jobs like --
Uh, I used to clean up for construction, but that was a long time ago.
And how long have you been doing this job?
About a year now.
About a year now, ok... do you need any certain training for this job, like what do you need?
You need to get certified by a, uh, a certain lifeguarding course. Right now, we're doing Star Guard but you can also be certified through the YMCA or Red Cross.
Ok... what do you think is the best thing about your job?
Uhm, probably the satisfaction you get knowing that you're keeping, like checking on everyone, I don't know...
Such a lie.
No, I'm not lying, actually. *
Ok, what's the worst thing about your job?
Long hours and little break.
If you didn't become a lifeguard, what do you think you'd be doing right now?
Probably sleeping.
(Pictures are coming soon, I promise. Well, no. There was only one photo taken because I was too shy to ask for more than one... plus, I figured the first shot was okay enough so that I wouldn't have to proceed with others. I know right now, however, that my boss is going to get pissed at that. She's also going to get pissed that I didn't ask any questions such as "How many people work here?", as well as the similar question of "How many people are needed for one shift?". My boss -- Jaymi -- is also going to get angry that I didn't ask about hiring opportunities. I mean, after all, it is the summer job issue and perhaps it would've been smart to ask about summer job hiring opportunities, no? Second duh on me.)
My room's a mess. I have no inspiration to clean the rest of it. All I want to do right now is just pop into an IKEA and just get a couple of curvy Swedish items for my bedroom. Unfortunately, there is no IKEA in the neighborhood, so I had to settle for the Wal-Mart. Which is where I bought a small table lamp. Incidentally, I don't have a table for the table lamp. But I do, however, have a windowseat for the table lamp. So, to be technical, it's a windowseat lamp. It's all metallic and cute and has a bendable neck to it. So, instead of cleaning my room, I read year-old magazines and clicked the on/off button repeatedly. And eating pork and brocolli from the Chinese restraunt. (My parents have agreed to continue to eat from a Chinese restraunt, but I still refuse to eat beef.) And looking at my sleeping cat. And thinking about how dirty my room is, and how dirty my closet is. And then about how that damn on/off button was so amusing.
He is dating Girl A now. It officially began last night, and I can't stop laughing. It won't last long, because quite frankly He even feels that she's a little disturbing. I mean, she has pictures of NSync all over her walls! She calls Him Lance, and they say stuff like "Stay NSync" to each other. She has braces and He can't stand them. She has Him going to church with her. It won't be His thing. It can't be His thing. Maybe I'm in a deep stage of denial about all of this. Or maybe I'm just speaking the truth of this entire matter, and that He isn't going to be happy with all of this. Jesus, He wasn't even happy mentioning any of it to me, much less saying anything about her. Or maybe He's just afraid of how I'm going to react. Or maybe I'm just over-stating this entire situation. Either way, Girl A is on a photo in His wallet (a place that I even never got to touch) and He is with her and He is morphing into this image that Girl A wants Him to portray. And it's all going to hurt Him. And, to quote Him, He just doesn't "give a fuck" because He's just out "for a good time" and doesn't really care at this point on how anything turns up. But, you know, whatever floats His boat. Or tickles his pickle. Or keeps him in synch. Actually, to be honest, I'm happy for Him. He found someone after only a week -- a week exactly. And I guess I support Him with it. He asked me before He left, "Diana, you wouldn't mind if I, uh, started holding her hand in the hallway or stuff, would you?" And I told Him that I didn't care, and that I shouldn't care because it's not me and Him, it's Girl A and Him.
Oh well. »
Tuesday, April 24 Nothing has changed much, besides the fact that He no longer really sits with us at lunch anymore, but rather drops off his stuff and exits to socialize with potential girlfriends-to-be. Whereas I sit there and grab my stomach in pain and write song lyrics in a book and watch His gleeful face out of the corner of my eye. He's laughing... how in hell can He laugh? He hasn't asked Girl A out yet, and it's pissing me off because He's getting quite a bit of attention for his not-so-scandelous ending with me and onto the New Big Thing. Which is, of course, Girl A. He swoons that He never walks alone in the hallways, whereas I am the one going solo. He says that Girl A's a distraction in His studies, whereas I am ranked at the same level she is. It's a competition for the prize of a worn-out-dickhead-suddenly-turned-best-friend. I'm definitely not going to be the winner, so I might as well move on and find someone else to please me. But, you see, that was the problem the first time around. In relationships, I move so incredibly slow that most boyfriends give up before we even kiss. So who could, besides Him, possibly handle my slow-moving dating techniques? Who would even care about it, anyway? No one. So, while He is off barely even shedding a tear over me, I'm back here in a Niagara Falls full of tears. Actually, I haven't cried in two days, which is a goal for me. I have yelled and screamed, though, at Him. Twice. Once was witnessed by Meredith, which occurred today. It was basically me screaming "You treat me like shit!" in the midst of a quickly-deserting lunchroom. He walked away and I begged for Him to come back. He said we should go into the school, but then someone just had to talk to Him, so I walked into the school solo... again. And He, of course, was surrounded by bunches of other überchildren. Like "Fred". And Girl A. And "Fred's" ex-girlfriend-turned-best-friend ordeal, which I really wish I had taken notes on earlier, just so I can do it just perfectly. Damn my timing.
Besides that, things are okay. We only have twenty-something days left in school this year. That's something to be happy about, right? I mean, if you ignore the horrendous finals and report cards and summer jobs and bathing suits, it's not too bad. I'll be driving soon, which is okay I guess. I'm not ready to face the road alone, considering that four-way stop signs still confuse the hell out of me. And morning traffic isn't my greatest of achievements... plus, the last time I drove seems like ages ago, and it feels like I have to re-teach myself the basics everytime I get behind the wheel of that damn car. By the way, we (my parents and I, but mostly my parents) redecorated part of the inside of my car just to give it a bit of an appeal. The ceiling's got a cowprint on it, as does the steering wheel, front seats, and a pillow in the backseat. I'm not done with it yet, as I have to figure out what to do with the backseat. I call the whole thing "Project Moo" or the "Moo Movement", just for effect. It's nothing top-seret or deadly or anything. I doubt the car could handle it... hell, my dad did something to it so that now it has problems hitting 35 mph. Damn cars.
Speaking of damn cars, I have an adventure for you. When we all spend the night at Meredith's, we usually go for "midnight walks". Unfortunately, this midnight walks turn into "1-oclock-in-the-morning" walks, which is supposedly past the county/state curfew for young adults (children) to be outside. Of course, we were unaware of it when we took a walk down to the grocery store on Friday night around 1 am. But, of course, the cop that picked us up knew that. And he forced the five of us into the backseat of his cramped car -- Patsy holding my Caesar salad, which I had handed for her care when I showed an ID to the guy and Meredith's rollerblades blocking up legroom -- and listened to country music and he escorted us to Meredith's humble abode. On the way, I just thought of my older brother and imagining that he probably knew the cop that picked us up, and had probably been in this cop car before. The idea that I was "following in his footsteps" and that I was one of five in the back of a cop car with country music in the stereo and a Big Mac in the front seat... it was just enough to make me smile out of the entire situation. It's not usually a laughing matter to get pulled over by a cop, I understand. And it was obvious that it shouldn't be taken as a joyride because we were in the back of a cop car. But it just seemed surreal to be in one of those cars, behind the mesh metal wall. Kelly, whom was forced upon my lap, and I just looked at each other. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. I bit my lip to resist a giggle, and Meredith nudged me in the elbow because I was making a fool of myself. We told the cop Meredith's address five million times, but the guy had a hearing problem at 1 am (too much excitement for him, maybe?) and missed the house. We all got out and Meredith went inside to get her mom to consult the cop. Meredith's mom took the situation fairly well, and things were settled for the night. We went to bed and each woke up the next morning with the feeling (or at least I had this) that it never really happened and I was imagining the idea that I was in the backseat of a fucking cop car at 1 am on a Friday night. Surreal. Fucking surreal. »
Friday, April 20 I'm not going to do anything if it doesn't feel right. And, with that, a year-and-a-half relationship ended. And, with that, I cried the hardest that I've cried ever since Ex broke up with me a year and a half ago. And then I tried to sleep, tried to relax, tried to eat, tried to do something except cry and think of Him. But, of course, sleeping was out of the question. Relaxing was far from occurring. Eating made me throw up. So, crying and thinking of Him was the end result. And it was highly used.
I was also told by Kelly that a gal (let's call her Girl A) got His e-mail address and has a major crush on Him. I also found out through Him that He went on a date with Girl A last night, with "Fred". And now I feel really used and really shitty about this all, because He is the kind of person that likes to be with someone. And if I am not right with Him, then Girl A's the next hit. And He will end up going for Girl A, and if Girl A rejects him (which, if my galpals and I pull the right pieces of her bitchy hair strings, will happen), then He'll run back to me. But if He turns on to Girl A, then He will become a clone of "Fred". But if Girl A and Him become The New Couple, then the same galpals I mentioned earlier (Patsy, Meredith, Kelly, Opheyla, and a couple of other hip misfits) will incite ass-kicking. Oh, yes, there will be ass-kicking. Yes, I will try to get it on videotape for all of you kiddies.
Actually, I'm not feeling as bad as I should. I've cried everything out, and now I just realized that there's only a month left in school. I'm going to be a junior next year. There's a bunch of cute guys at our school... it's like a dime a dozen there. (You know what I'm saying, Patsy.) And, believe it or not, I've actually laughed since the breakup. It feels good. I feel good. I feel a little free. I'm like a bird. Sort of. But I'm still going to probably stay home tonight because I seriously don't feel too good. I guess it's a trip to the movie store for me. And maybe some chocolate.
I can't stop laughing. I don't know why I'm laughing. Maybe this won't be too bad. Maybe we'll get back together someday in the near future, and maybe we won't. I'll always love Him with undying passion. I've always loved Ex (believe it or not) with an undying passion. I've loved all of my ex-boyfriends (except for one of them) with an undying passion. But, to be honest, I don't know if I can live without Him. I don't know if I could live with Him. But, you know what, fuck it. I'm going to try. I'm going to try either way the road turns. If I get Him back in my life, then fuck it, I'll be pleasant. If I don't get Him back, then fuck it, I'll try to be happy and then I'll be on the never-ending boysearch line with all of my galpals. Then we can have those down-to-earth talks about life, love, and the never-ending search for some happiness at the end of the rainbow. I miss those days. I miss those days when I was single like this and didn't have to worry about wearing a skirt to impress someone. This is amazing. I'm actually fucking laughing. Oooohh...
The thing is, I already miss Him. I really do miss Him. But He's not my main concern right now. Like I said, if He comes back into le monde du Diana, then so be it. I'll give Him a free pass in. But I'm not going to struggle Him to be back in. I'll survive this one, just like I survived all of the others. I won't kill myself like I told Him that I would if He broke up with me. I won't fight. I won't cry for Him anymore. I didn't do anything wrong, He did. I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay. And, for once, I'm not lying.
i've got a lack of inhibition / i've got a loss of perspective / i've had a little bit to drink / and it's making me think / that i can jump ship and swim / that the ocean will hold me / that there's got to be more / than this boat i'm in... »
Sunday, April 15 Perhaps a bad habit of mine would be that I tend to pick at scabs on my forehead (from zits) and then dot my left hand with blood prints. Ironically enough, this only happens whenever I'm on the computer, and the great deal of the scab-picking occurs at the times when I'm bored/tired/lonely and waiting for a webpage to load. Then after the scab's blood dries, I usually play with my hair (another habit) and create it into a wave. Then I put it back into a bun and shift in the seat. I start out leaning forward, then sit back with my knees against the table when I type. There's usually a bottle or can of carbonated beverage bliss at my side, and I rarely tend to drink from it when I sit here. I also rarely tend to wear shoes or speak. It's just the way I've adapted to be, since a great deal of summer is spent in this worn-down upholstered chair. Yes, I sit in an upholstered chair, and I have ever since I decided to create the originally office chair into a Army-fatigued artpiece. I would sit in that chair now, but then the twigs around the edges would break off, and then it'd be pointless to keep. Plus, the chair itself is rock-hard from spray-painting it. But I guess I should save all of that (as well as photos) for another entry.
The point is, I'm avoiding the single problem in my life. I'm avoiding it so that I don't put a damper on my own life and that life seems better that way. Because if I did let it control my feelings, then my evening at Meredith's would've been a drag, and I wouldn't have been able to fully feel good today at Barnes and Noble. I would've had a bad weekend, and I would've felt worse than I do, when the reality of it is is that I did nothing wrong, and none of what is going on in la-la land is my fault.
It's about Him.
He went out of town for the weekend to "get away" from things. We didn't make contact for two days, partially because I didn't want Him to get angry with me for disturbing His out-of-town weekend at His uncle's house to "think over" things. The whole humor in this is that I have no idea in hell what these things are. Most likely, they involve something about Him that He has decided to not mention to anyone, which is okay with me. I don't tell Him (or anyone) some things in my life, and I feel that is even for everyone else. But for Him to just leave out of nowhere and reappear today and give me an attitude for not going to the movies with Him... that's just wrong. I couldn't go with Him because I was going to have a nice Easter lunch with my family, and I was not about to give that up so that I could go watch a terrible teeny movie with Him. After I told Him I couldn't/didn't want to, He gave me a huff and a sigh, told me that He'd talk to me later (as if it were the biggest priviledge at the time), and said a good-bye. Then I sat there and just stared straight ahead. I wanted to blame "Fred" for everything, for altering Him and making Him a nutcase. I wanted to blame lots of people for the way He has been acting lately, especially myself. But then I realized something major: He is the problem of everything.
I love Him. I know I shouldn't say such a big word as "love" about Him, considering that I'm only at the tender and pure age of sixteen. But, really, I do. And I know we've been through a lot. But something tells me that we can work out these problems, and if we don't, then we'll just have to move on. I'm not going to break up with Him because of a sporatic attitude problem... I've had worse ex-boyfriends whom I've stayed with. I've had ex-boyfriends do things far worse than go on weekend "find-myself" sprees, and I've been able to handle those. So what makes this any different of a situation than the others? Easy answer: I've "been with" Him for almost a year and a half, and we probably know each other too well to imagine actually being alone. Plus, we still have feelings for each other that can't really be said and probably don't want to lose such a "gold mine" of a persona that we find in each other. I'm not sure. All I know is that I want to talk to Him and see what He's found out about himself over the weekend. Because, quite frankly, I found out a lot about myself. But that's for another day.
By the way, the search engine doesn't work at the top, but I'm a lazy ass and won't bother to take it down. Keep me entertained by writing some funky phrases in there... maybe anonymous comments? »
Saturday, April 14 My entire family decided that we would stop eating cow products (excluding dairy). This happened earlier in the week after we watched a few television shows based around the idea of slaughterhouse treatment and bovine spongiform encephalopathy, or mad cow disease. So far, it's been really tough for me to avoid the temptations of beef, considering that my favorite foods are tacos and beef-and-brocolli. My father has also ruled that we, as a family, cannot eat from any Asian-run restraunts in order to quietly protest against a wrong-doing. Personally, I don't think that local restraunts have nothing to do with it, because it's just stereotyping every Chinese person by thinking that they are all hostile. I feel sad about the entire incident involving the planes colliding, but it doesn't really matter (to me) what happens now. I try to not keep up with these stories for a reason.
With that said, let's move on. I went to a concert last night. It was a local band called The New Deal, which features two ex-members of the long-gone local band The Transformers. Before the concert started, we (Patsy and myself) dared Meredith to go up and play the drums. After much convincing (as well as a personal donation of $2), she walked slowly up to the drum set, sat down, took a breath, and played. Soon after, the lead singer and guitarist of The New Deal (James) joined in with her and they sat there and "squirted" (if you will) out music. She quit soon after (she said she felt like "a noodle" up there), and the three of us sat down on a vintage chair and watched The New Deal play their gig. It was composed of lovesick-twisted loops and a feeling of being in a corner and a crowded room in the same instant. There were a few other people there -- a tall dramatic black man wearing dark clothes, a couple of teenys hanging with a boy wearing a Superman shirt, a baby, a couple of shaved heads. Some moved their body with the music, and others (such as myself) sat there and just watched James express emotions into the microphone and Trey (the bassist) emotionally add backup. It was quite an amazing show.
Afterwards, Meredith, Patsy, and I went to Blockbuster Video. We decided to make the entire "mission" there an espionage that included rolling on the plush floor and ducking under the panels. We left with three movies: The Rapture (a sex-filled movie that featured a substitute teacher at our school; it sucked), Chicago Cab (very awesome movie), and Can't Hardly Wait (which I've seen dozens and dozens of times previously). We went to sleep around 7:30 this morning (after talking to a very aroused 44-year-old for two hours on AOL) and I finally dozed off until 1:30. It was all very pleasing. Thank you, Patsy and Meredith. It was memorable. »
Wednesday, April 11 Found on the back of a door in my 7th period English classroom:
Compliment three people every day ~ Over tip breakfast waitresses ~ Watch a sunrise at least once a year ~ Once in your life own a convertible ~ Sing in the shower ~ Treat everyone you meet like you want to be treated ~ Never refuse homemade brownies ~ Strive for excellence, not perfection ~ Plant a tree on your birthday ~ Learn three clean jokes ~ Return borrowed vehicles with the gas tank full ~ Never waste an opportunity to tell someone you love them ~ Whistle ~ Leave everything a little better than you found it ~ Think big thoughts but relish small pleasures ~ Become the most positive and enthusiastic person you know ~ Surprise loved ones with little unexpected gifts ~ Floss your teeth ~ Learn CPR ~ Ask for a raise when you think you've earned it ~ Be forgiving of yourself and others ~ Take time to smell the roses ~ Say "thank you" a lot ~ Say "please" a lot ~ Avoid negative people ~ Buy whatever kids are selling on card tables in their front yards ~ Wear polished shoes ~ Remember other people's birthdays ~ Rekindle old friendships ~ Commit yourself to constant improvement ~ Focus on making things better not bigger ~ Be kinder than necessary ~ Carry jumper cables in your trunk ~ Have a firm handshake ~ Look people in the eye ~ Be the first to say hello ~ Use the good silver ~ Return all things you borrow ~ Make new friends but cherish old ones ~ Keep secrets ~ Sing in a choir ~ Show respect for all living things ~ Plant flowers every spring ~ Have a dog ~ Always accept an outstretched hand ~ Stop blaming others ~ Take responsibility for your life ~ Wave at kids on school busses ~ Take good care of those you love ~ Be there when people need you ~ Feed a stranger's expired parking meter ~ Don't postpone joy ~ Never underestimate the power of love ~ Live your life as an exclamation not an explanation ~ Cherish your children for what they are, not for what you'd like them to be ~ Compliment even small improvements ~ Keep your promises ~ Become someone's hero ~ Marry only for love ~ Count your blessings ~ Call your mother
I plan to do a great deal of these things (or, at least improve upon them) by the end of my life. »
Tuesday, April 10 Another childhood memory happened around the time that I was five or six years of age. It was during the April-October season of Daylight Savings, and everything outside was as dark as it is now. I remember standing in the middle of the house that I lived in (one of those old houses turned new, which I thought was a remarkably pretty home) and looking out the front window and seeing nothing but the streetlight. It's just like what the outside looks like now. It's just before the sunrise. I love this time of day.
I'm going out of town for the day. Two hours in a school bus to get to an aquarium that I probably won't have all the time to look through and properly enjoy. I like aquariums because, to me, they have a slight bit of peacefullness in them. The fish just swim around in pretty little circles and it's just so awesome to stand there and watch them, particularly if the intercom system in this new place has good Enya-esque music playing. I just want to look at the fish and have a good day out of school. The past few days haven't really been too satisfying for my own taste, if you ask me. There's been the cliche "I've got too much going through my head" occurring with me, mainly about my relationship (in general) with Him and "Fred". I've stopped talking to "Fred", and I hope he realizes this soon. "Fred" says that he's a good example for Him and that he will be able to help Him get His grades up, but "Fred" only "helped" Him once with homework (and, in the process, bit my head off), and then decided to take a few days to skip school. Isn't that special. I don't know. I just think that He needs a better role model than "Fred". Because, quite frankly, He can do much better.
I'm going to a funeral on Saturday for somebody I never met. My dad told me this afternoon, "Diana, you're going to a funeral on Saturday." I'm taking my mom's place, considering that she has recently only started to walk erect again. The funeral is for one of my dad's ex-worker's husband. My mother described the guy as "some black guy", which I felt was a rude way to explain things. My father thinks the whole idea of me going to a funeral will be a bit of learning. It's not in Savannah, though, so there's going to be a bit of father-daughter bonding time in the car. Or, at least a bit of talking of some sort.
It feels like a Friday to me. I shouldn't be awake at this hour. I want to sleep again. »
Sunday, April 8 It's interesting to see what an influence a 1990s college movie can do to a bunch of tired teenage girls. The movie was PCU, and the bunch of tired teenage girls were the current occupants in Meredith's bonus room. There were five or six of us watching that film when they first started flying around the room. Marshmallows. They were thrown by anonymous hands through the room, two or three at a time. It was going clean until someone decided that the ceiling fan would make it all a bit more exciting. So, we all decided to throw an entire bag of marshmallows into the high-powered ceiling fan, causing a shower of white puffs flying towards a bunch of ex-tired teenage girls.
After we had finished fooling around with the marshmallows, we decided to take a walk. It was 12:00 am. We walked down the road and onto the next, all of us forming a long chain across the deserted street. Every now and then, cars would break our chain, but we all ended up getting back to the one long line that had originally inherited the road. We laughed, we giggled, we clinged upon each other and dragged upon each other. It was as if we were all taking the best parts of our lives and cascading it down that long and deserted street. It's been almost a year since we began to do these midnight walks. It seemed like it was yesterday, and I was still the same person I was a year ago.
Kelly lead us into a wooded area, where all the trees seemed to drape overhead and the full moon luminated the ground below us. We all walked down to the end of the trail and turned back, over a small creek, and through the backyards of a few sleeping yuppies. Then we headed over to a subdivision that was lined with quiet homes and dark backyards. After walking for quite a distance (I'd say a half-mile into the place), we turned around and sluggishly stumbled our way back to Meredith's residence. We cleaned up the hardened marshmallows, put the pillows back into their proper places, and went to bed. I dozed off somewhere between 3:00 and 4:00 am. I got up this morning around 9:00 or 10:00, my legs in extreme pain... particularly my fussy left one.
And what did I learn? I learn that good things happen when you just let things go -- let all of your problems go, let everything just free, fuck life -- and just go with whatever you feel would bring a smile to your face. I mean, I forgot my problems for one evening and I ended up laughing and giggling and hugging and feeling so high up on the happiness meter that I might've burst. But that was just me. You may see it differently. »
Friday, April 6 Found on Metafilter (edited):
GOLDEN, Colo. (Reuters) - "I'm going to die. Please, I can't breathe,'' 10-year-old Candace Newmaker, wrapped in a sheet, screamed out before losing consciousness during a ''rebirthing'' therapy session, a videotape showed on Thursday at the trial of two therapists over her death. "Please help me, please, please please,'' yelled Candace Newmaker during the 71-minute videotape of the session.
The last time the girl who suffered from emotional problems was seen awake and talking was when she was wrapped in the sheet in the fetal position during a session meant to recreate the sensation of being in the womb. She died in a local hospital the next day.
"You want to die? Go ahead and die,'' one of the therapists said at the session conducted last April in the Evergreen, Colorado, home of one of the therapists, Connell Watkins, 54. The girl was wrapped head-to-toe in a dark-blue flannel sheet and told to force her way out so she could be "reborn'' to her adoptive mother, Jeane Newmaker, who was also present. Newmaker kept telling the child "as soon as you are born I'll hold you and love you.'' Attorneys for the therapists have said the death was an accident and that a bad heart caused her death, not suffocation. Several female jurors cried during the viewing and some observers in the packed courtroom also wept as they watched the last waking moments of the child. People filed out of the courtroom in silence. The defendants sat motionless. Watkins and her assistant, Julie Ponder 40, have been charged with child abuse resulting in death. If convicted, they face 16 to 48 years in prison. Two other employees, who took part in the session have also been charged and are scheduled to go on trial later this year. Jurors were shown another videotape of a so-called "holding session'' where Candace was placed on the laps of the therapists and forced to yell repeatedly: "I wish I could kill my mom Angela,'' a reference to her birth mother.
The adoptive mother who lived in Durham, North Carolina, with Candace, testified on Wednesday she had turned to Watkins because the girl had met with no success with other therapists [in getting over a separation from her birth mother]. Her mother testified Candace was a difficult child and had tried to start a fire in the house. Jeane Newmaker has also been charged with a lesser offense, but given limited immunity so nothing she testified to will be used in her November trial. About an hour into the tape, Watkins tells the mother to leave. "No sense waiting around,'' she said casually. Ten minutes later, after the two therapists chatted about a home that was being remodeled they decided to take a break and unwrap the girl. But the therapists immediately realized something was wrong. The mother, who was watching the final minutes of the session via closed circuit television in another room rushes back to her daughter, screaming "God, she's dead. Look at her. Look at her color. Call 911 somebody. She's dead, Connell.'' »
Thursday, April 5 My mother's hospital room is so awesome. It's in the kiddie section of this glorious hospital that I didn't realize had gardens all over the place. The hallways leading to her room are brightly colored with big stars and suns everywhere, and there are hand-drawn renditions of famous Japanese imported cartoons. Her room has all of these marvelous colors and a computer. Let me say this again: Her hospital room has a computer in it that is faster than the computer here. It's a thin screen and seems to resemble a rejected iMac. So awesome to know. Forget the colorful scenery, forget the TV and VCR that hung on the ceiling... that computer was just so awesome that words can't describe it. It just kind of sucks that they set it on a very annoying Lion King screen-saver that was very difficult to avoid.
She comes home tomorrow, by the way. »
Wednesday, April 4 Another of my mother's surgeries (hysterectomy) has been switched again. It was originally in later April (for pains, since it was the closest possible day), then to May (to suit her schedule: she has to be out of work from four to six weeks after the surgery), and then to tomorrow. My mother is having surgery tomorrow at 5:30 am, and I'm (yet again) afraid of losing my mother to another surgery. I know that these gyno doctors do this stuff day in and day out, but it still makes me slightly queasy knowing that she's going under another surgeon's knife.
So, they're removing her uterus tomorrow. My first home, as well as my brother's. It's all kind of odd to realize that she's doing this after 12 years since her last child's birth -- I'm surprised she hadn't done it sooner. »
Tuesday, April 3 "Let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together." / "I've got some real estate here in my bag." / So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies / And we walked off to look for America / "Kathy," I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh / "Michigan seems like a dream to me now" / It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw / I've gone to look for America / Laughing on the bus / Playing games with the faces / She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy / I said "Be careful his bowtie is really a camera" / "Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat" / "We smoked the last one an hour ago" / So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine / And the moon rose over an open field / "Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping / I'm empty and aching and I don't know why / Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike / They've all gone to look for America / All gone to look for America / All gone to look for America...
Simon and Garfunkel, "America" »
Sunday, April 1 I sent around an April Fools joke today, just to keep in the mood of the day. (So far, no one has played an evil prank on me -- then again, it's a Sunday and it's considered "unholy" to probably do something so satanic.) But, anyway, here's a copy of the hilarious read on the Goodtimes virus, which I first read in a book that I borrowed from Meredith.
Goodtimes will re-write your hard drive. Not only that, but it will scramble any disks that aren’t even close to your computer. It will re-calibrate your refrigerator’s coolness setting so all your ice cream goes melty. It will demagnetize the strips on all your credit cards, screw up the tracking on your television & VCR and use sub-space field harmonics to scratch any CD’s you try to play. It will give your ex-girlfriend your new phone number. It will mix Kool-Aid into your fishtank. It will drink all your beer and leave its socks out on the coffee table when there’s company coming over. It will put a dead cockroach in the back pocket of your good suit pants and hide your car keys when you are late for work. Goodtimes will make you fall in love with a penguin. It will give you nightmares about circus midgets.
It will pour sugar into your gas tank and shave off both your eyebrows while dating your girlfriend behind your back and billing the dinner & hotel room to your Discover card. It will slander your grandmother. It does not matter if she is dead or not, such is the power of Goodtimes, it reaches out beyond the grave to sully those things we hold most dear. It moves your car randomly around parking lots so you can’t find it. It will kick your dog.
It will leave libidinous messages on your bosses voice mail in your voice! It is insidious and subtle. It is dangerous and terrifying to behold. It is also a rather interesting shade of mauve. Goodtimes will give you Dutch Elm disease. It will leave the toilet seat up. It will make a batch of Methanphedime in your bath tub and leave bacon cooking on your stove while it goes out to chase gradeschoolers with your new snowblower. »
Happy birthday to me. I'm 16 today... sweet sixteen, I guess. I'm celebrating my birthday by going out for breakfast and maybe dinner. My parents bought me a cake, they're going to sing, and then whatnot. Nothing too spectacular, I like it simplistic.
I guess I should go into the quick story of my birth. I was born two weeks late, and originally supposed to be in this world on March 15 or 18. When I was born, finally, it was at 6:54 pm in Allentown General Hospital in Allentown, Pennsylvania. My father was working at Lehigh Valley Hospital when he got the phone call around 12 pm that his wife was in labor. Thinking that this whole thing was an April Fool's joke, he took his time getting over to the hospital. He arrived around 3 or 4 pm and adequately surprised that this was for real.
When I was born, I had to be literally yanked out of my mother with some sort of gentle plyers (I was her first child). Later in life, this caused a crooked jaw (fixed through braces) and temporary "horns" on my forehead. They later disappeared into an oblivion, and I was taken home (this was when we lived in my grandparent's attic). My first name, Diana, was derived from my mom's hero, Princess Diana. My middle name, Louise, is my mom's first name. The original name that I was going to have was to be Alexandra Samatha, just so my initials could be ASS. (My parents felt that things like that were hilarious for their daughter.)
I also want to send a happy birthday out to one of my first boyfriends, Jacob. He's out there somewhere. »
