Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Friday, Mar. 14, 2003 - 12:01 a.m.

So, okay, remember how my uncle died last week? My gramma - the cool one, the one I love - is in the hospital now. ::sigh:: I think she'll be okay, but though I will really miss her if she leaves, I am ready for that. We used to spend a lot of time together before she forgot who I am, and when my grampa died, she told me she's ready to go too, that she's lived a long, good life, and death is just the next super-groovy adventure, and she's ready to see what's out there. And I know that my gramma, the cool as hell woman with whom I used to hang, the woman who taught me to bodysurf when she was 65+, the one with a memory sharp as a tack and a quick wit, that woman would not want to be the woman who lives in her skin now, who forgets who she's with and where she is and never wants to eat. That woman is not my gramma. Not really. I love that woman too, but I know that somewhere down inside her, my grandmother is crying to get out, and I hope that someday soon, she does, even though I will miss her, and there are tons of things I will not get to tell her or share with her. Those opportunities are gone here now, anyway. When this woman has gone and my grandmother is finally free, I can tell her then and know that she will hear me, and that she and my grandfather are both there when I need them. Maybe that's selfish, I don't know. I only know she would not want to be as she is now, and that in those rare moments of real awareness, she knows how it is, and she does not want to be here. I see it in her eyes when we are spending quiet time together, and I hope that she is as free as she dreams when the time comes.

It's been a tough while for me, gentle readers. I spent enough time with my dad to really feel my anger towards him, and then go past it. For the first time in my life, I saw the hurt look on his face when I am short with him, and that is a look I wish I had never seen. I know that look. I wear it myself, sometimes. I never wanted to see it on my father's face and know that I was responsible for it. And then when I said goodbye to him on Monday night, the little voice in my head - the one that told me my grandfather was going to die 6 days before he did - that little voice told me my father is going to die. And I think that that was the last time I'll ever see him, because that annoying little voice is almost always right. It's an awareness I can't explain and sometimes wish I didn't have. But I called my dad and left a message and apologized for being a pain and told him he's a good dad and that I love him, so I'm thankful for the prompting. Now I just wish Daddy would call me back so I could know he got it and tell him myself. "In person," as it were.

Yes, I called my father "Daddy." Get over it.

Hey, guess what. The design from hell has been returned to me, and wonder of wonders, I got an A. I am in shock. Seriously. My instructor even said my graphics were great and I had a lot of good ideas. I hardly know how to react. I'm sure she will recover with the next one and rake me over the coals then. We got critiqued on it tonight and she had no real bad stuff to point out, which just leads me to believe I am being lulled into a false sense of security, and then wah-BAYAM! Right over the head with a sledgehammer. Yyyyep.

Excellent Quote(s) of the Day:
�Michael, please keep your baby-dangling ass out of the media for awhile so my generation can gain the proper ironic distance needed to maybe have fun listening to Thriller once again." -- Ann-Frank, Diaryland diarist, on Michael Jackson's latest press foray.

"Do they not teach the basics of cause and effect in High School anymore?"
--Ann-Frank, on 2 pubescent teenagers buying a mountain of thong underwear and a pregnancy test kit at the local Tar-zhay.

Welcome, Golfzilla searchers. Where the heck have you been?

Favorite Searches o' the Day:

Fox+News+Sucks. And how, my friend.

"I+hate+pdf+files". You and me, both.

Opus+penguin+fan+club

And finally, Poem+for+Thai+Girl, which I think should be the name of a poem, if it isn't already.

If I hadn't seen it myself, I would have to surmise something new had happened in the Laci Peterson case, because 12 of you sleuthy-types were by for that. Does anyone know what they were searching for in the water, there? Drop a line, ay?

And by the way, you people sending me mean and obscene google code, Cut. It. Out.

Speaking of - well, not really, but it reminded me - are you people aware the FBI is going around to organizations protesting the invasion and occupation of Iraq and demanding to see membership rosters? Yyyep. Hello, harassment. Hello, violation of privacy and civil liberties. He-LLO ACLU; I have signed up online even as we speak.

HEY: Junior G-Man. This is AMERICA, you freak. I can protest whatever the hell I want, and it's none of your damn business. Step off, Ashcroft, Poindexter, and you, Robert Mueller. Why don't you inept idiots do something about real terrorists and leave law-abiding citizens to live their lives according to the tenets set forth in that little piece of paper the rest of us like to call the Constitution? You may have heard of it. It's not the insignificant piece of outdated, waterstained trash you guys want us to believe it is, and if it takes me the rest of my life, I will see you schmucks go DOWN. Stick THAT in my file, assholes. While you're at it, tell that fucking moron in the White House he's goin' down, too. I am American, hear me roar.

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Yesterday's News - Next Stop

In which Katie shares sad news - Wednesday, Apr. 01, 2015
In which Katie returns after a very long absence - Monday, Jun. 25, 2012
In which Katie pokes her head in and brushes some of the cobwebs away - Thursday, May. 06, 2010
In which Katie asks you to write your congressman again. - Monday, Jun. 02, 2008
In which Katie asks you to please click the link and send the message to protect the rights of artists - Wednesday, May. 21, 2008