Just in case you live in the dark reaches of a cave in outer Mongolia and haven't seen this, take a peek.
I've watched this about 400 times in the last few days and it never fails to make me tear up through a huge smile. I just love this kid. I love what he's done here and I love that he's sharing it with the world. Gawd bless Youtube, too.
There is a time, unfortunately, every damn day when I just hate people. The asshole tailgating me on the freeway, the check writer in line at the grocery store (I think we can all get behind the ire for that one), the puppy mill operator trying to defend their hell-worthy depravity. But when you see something like this it gives you a break from the negative turd that always seems to be floating in our pools.
It makes me want to do something special like that, too. Sometimes I dream of making some huge impact, imprint, impression that will touch people like Matt has. I really don't believe altruism exists and I struggle with the fact that doing something nice for someone else also makes me feel good so did I do the something to make them or me feel better? But in the end, does it really matter?
I say no.
Bringing joy to 3 million people on the internet or one little kid on the corner is equal. It makes a difference. One tiny drop in the ocean and how far it goes might not be visible to the naked eye but we can be rest assured it's there. The impact is felt, big or small.
And that's all that matters.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
Dear Kitty,
You are the furry love of my life, KeeKee cat, and I appreciate the fact that you have an uncontrollable need to sleep as close to me as possible, even when that compulsion hits you at 5 fucking o'clock in the crackass of the morning. But must you park your butt on top of the pillow my head is currently occupying?
It is vital to snuggle with my face immediately after a visit to the poo poo house so I wake up with kitty litter stuck to my cheek? And as much as I Just. Can't. Get. Enough of your sweet purring it's not necessary to do so directly into my ear when mommy is trying to squeeze the last few drops of sleep out of her too-short night.
Also, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't CHEW MY HAIR like some circus freak with a follicle fetish.
Love you. Mean it,
Mama
p.s. please stop barfing. We all know it's you, despite the look of innocence you give me. Thank you.
It is vital to snuggle with my face immediately after a visit to the poo poo house so I wake up with kitty litter stuck to my cheek? And as much as I Just. Can't. Get. Enough of your sweet purring it's not necessary to do so directly into my ear when mommy is trying to squeeze the last few drops of sleep out of her too-short night.
Also, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't CHEW MY HAIR like some circus freak with a follicle fetish.
Love you. Mean it,
Mama
p.s. please stop barfing. We all know it's you, despite the look of innocence you give me. Thank you.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Long time no write
I guess it's time to give this blog a good dusting and push that gnarly pic of my broken arm down off the front page. Yes?
Hiya, kids? How are ya? Let's get all caught up, shall we?
Last December whitey and I went to visit my parents for Christmas. My brother and niece joined us as did whitey's mom for a few days. It was horrible. Of course whitey was awesome as was his mama but my mother and brother were bonkers in a bad way. In a word? It was fuckass.
(Some of you might have noticed I pulled 2 very long and gloomy posts detailing what happened with a lot of personal back story. And as much as I was hoping that would be an explanatory and cathartic thing it wasn't. Those words out there for the world to see never sat quite right with me and down they came. The short version is, my mother and I have always had problems, she crosses the line, I retaliated pretty hard, it was not good.)
My mother and I didn't speak for months. My brother can go suck it. I was depressed with a capital ugh. This lead to much crying and eating of chocolate and the inability to do much more than play Spider Solitaire (I will beat you 4 suits! I will!) and watch very bad reality TV day after day after day. (What were you thinking Big Brother? Seriously.)
In February I was the main photographer for a wedding and nearly lost my mind. Jebus H., the stress. That endeavor took up nearly every inch of space in my brain for 3 months solid not-to-mention most of my free fucking time. I said I'd never do that again but I've been booked by a co-worker to shoot her brother's wedding in August. It's a low-budget backyard affair and if the bride and groom are anything like my office acquaintance there will be a keg of Bud and illegal fireworks for entertainment so I'm not too bunched up about that one. As long as no one gets Velveeta on my camera we're all good.
Then in early April I fractured my arm in a horse fall. (See blechy pic below.) This was unfun. I put in a years worth of whining in the last 8 weeks and will have a sore arm for a couple more months but it's on the mend. Well, with the exception of some weird wonky scab issue from the wound that is usually found on horses and not humans (of course) that had to be treated with silver nitrate (!) but that's fixed now as well.
Also in April I finally retired my '95 Honda Accord (I cried like an idiot saying goodbye to that car. I'm such a girl.) and got a car I've wanted for a long time. Isn't she pretty?
Around that same time I'd had enough of the blubbering and fretting over the mom situation (brother can still suck it) and took my dad's advice and wrote my parents a letter, with a special paragraph to my mom. I didn't apologize outright, since it wasn't deserved, but I honestly expressed my sorrow for what went down, ate a little petite shit sandwich, and that did the trick.
My mother called me, sort of kinda apologized in her back-peddling way, but it opened the door and although my feelings are changed forever and I can't ever see spending more than 2 or 3 days with her under the same roof ever again, at least this wound isn't gushing blood all over my light beige carpet any longer. My mood improved a great deal and I could finally concentrate on new things.
Speaking of new things...
I've never considered myself the crafty or artistic sort. Oh, I've dabbled in a few things like quilt making (can you even imagine?) and I made a very ugly pair of earrings once. Mostly I just get a whim up my butt and buy all the supplies for the next, great objet d' crap that I'm convinced will be the envy of the world and prominantly displayed then I lose interest or can't bring myself to read the instructions and it gets shoved unmade in a cupboard or under a bed. (Anyone want nine thousand marble magnets?) Or I do things like glue my fingers together and stab myself repeatedly with pins. And there was that one night involving Saki and cement, but I won't go into it.
However, I've always enjoyed photography. I didn't start to take it seriously until about 2 years ago, or at least as seriously as I take anything. Taking pictures has nudged the desperate wanna-be artist I know is living deep inside my skull, lurking somewhere behind all the useless Brady Bunch trivia and memories of 5th grade. I have a serious technology disability but I'm learning and trying and sometimes getting lucky.
I've even opened up my own Etsy shop to hopefully sell some prints and things. (For those of you who aren't familiar, it's a place where people sell artist type hand-made stuff and supplies to make handmade stuff and handmade supplies to make more stuff.) Go check it out here:
http://www.tasteslikepurple.etsy.com/
So, I think that catches us up. I sure did miss you guys but how many posts could you have read that said "Still depressed. Ate my weight in cookies today. See you tomorrow." Not many, I'm sure. The AWOL is over, the bitchslappings and story telling shall commence once again.
It's good to be back.
Hiya, kids? How are ya? Let's get all caught up, shall we?
Last December whitey and I went to visit my parents for Christmas. My brother and niece joined us as did whitey's mom for a few days. It was horrible. Of course whitey was awesome as was his mama but my mother and brother were bonkers in a bad way. In a word? It was fuckass.
(Some of you might have noticed I pulled 2 very long and gloomy posts detailing what happened with a lot of personal back story. And as much as I was hoping that would be an explanatory and cathartic thing it wasn't. Those words out there for the world to see never sat quite right with me and down they came. The short version is, my mother and I have always had problems, she crosses the line, I retaliated pretty hard, it was not good.)
My mother and I didn't speak for months. My brother can go suck it. I was depressed with a capital ugh. This lead to much crying and eating of chocolate and the inability to do much more than play Spider Solitaire (I will beat you 4 suits! I will!) and watch very bad reality TV day after day after day. (What were you thinking Big Brother? Seriously.)
In February I was the main photographer for a wedding and nearly lost my mind. Jebus H., the stress. That endeavor took up nearly every inch of space in my brain for 3 months solid not-to-mention most of my free fucking time. I said I'd never do that again but I've been booked by a co-worker to shoot her brother's wedding in August. It's a low-budget backyard affair and if the bride and groom are anything like my office acquaintance there will be a keg of Bud and illegal fireworks for entertainment so I'm not too bunched up about that one. As long as no one gets Velveeta on my camera we're all good.
Then in early April I fractured my arm in a horse fall. (See blechy pic below.) This was unfun. I put in a years worth of whining in the last 8 weeks and will have a sore arm for a couple more months but it's on the mend. Well, with the exception of some weird wonky scab issue from the wound that is usually found on horses and not humans (of course) that had to be treated with silver nitrate (!) but that's fixed now as well.
Also in April I finally retired my '95 Honda Accord (I cried like an idiot saying goodbye to that car. I'm such a girl.) and got a car I've wanted for a long time. Isn't she pretty?
Around that same time I'd had enough of the blubbering and fretting over the mom situation (brother can still suck it) and took my dad's advice and wrote my parents a letter, with a special paragraph to my mom. I didn't apologize outright, since it wasn't deserved, but I honestly expressed my sorrow for what went down, ate a little petite shit sandwich, and that did the trick.
My mother called me, sort of kinda apologized in her back-peddling way, but it opened the door and although my feelings are changed forever and I can't ever see spending more than 2 or 3 days with her under the same roof ever again, at least this wound isn't gushing blood all over my light beige carpet any longer. My mood improved a great deal and I could finally concentrate on new things.
Speaking of new things...
I've never considered myself the crafty or artistic sort. Oh, I've dabbled in a few things like quilt making (can you even imagine?) and I made a very ugly pair of earrings once. Mostly I just get a whim up my butt and buy all the supplies for the next, great objet d' crap that I'm convinced will be the envy of the world and prominantly displayed then I lose interest or can't bring myself to read the instructions and it gets shoved unmade in a cupboard or under a bed. (Anyone want nine thousand marble magnets?) Or I do things like glue my fingers together and stab myself repeatedly with pins. And there was that one night involving Saki and cement, but I won't go into it.
However, I've always enjoyed photography. I didn't start to take it seriously until about 2 years ago, or at least as seriously as I take anything. Taking pictures has nudged the desperate wanna-be artist I know is living deep inside my skull, lurking somewhere behind all the useless Brady Bunch trivia and memories of 5th grade. I have a serious technology disability but I'm learning and trying and sometimes getting lucky.
I've even opened up my own Etsy shop to hopefully sell some prints and things. (For those of you who aren't familiar, it's a place where people sell artist type hand-made stuff and supplies to make handmade stuff and handmade supplies to make more stuff.) Go check it out here:
http://www.tasteslikepurple.etsy.com/
So, I think that catches us up. I sure did miss you guys but how many posts could you have read that said "Still depressed. Ate my weight in cookies today. See you tomorrow." Not many, I'm sure. The AWOL is over, the bitchslappings and story telling shall commence once again.
It's good to be back.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
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