March 23rd, 2003

sad, greensad

Funeral

Came back from school Friday morning. votania's father was already here, ready to go. Well, sort of. votania all dressed and ready and taking an online IQ test from Emode, and everyone was standing around debating the answers and screendripping. marxdarx had donned the shirt he was borrowing from me; my old favorite black mens' dress shirt that used to be my father's. For my part, Inanna wasn't behaving very well; she took at least twice as long as usual to sync up, and I had to restart the process. Ow and pain.

We left around noon, and headed for Votania's parents' house. We had lunch. Votania's mother was with the rest of the family. Oddly (and delightfully) enough, none of the sandwich fixings that her mom had prepared contained pork. The television came on (one thing I like about the Temple: you can escape from that if you so wish) and we watched a show about fossilized brains of a proto-human child. Delightful, but not what I'd needed at that point... Little Fayoumis did not appreciate Buddy-dog wanting to share lunch, and really did not appreciate Buddy following him around. He tried to shoo Buddy off, and Buddy thought he was playing. I could feel the beginnings of a panic attack on Little Fayoumis' part. I don't think he cares much for dogs that are half his size or more. Buddy comes up past his waist...

Lunch was over finally, and we went out to the car. Buddy did his escape-artist routine, and was chased down by the adults while I got LF situated in the car. Makes the overreaction of Grandma at LF all the more annoying to see him get loose when grownups were being careful...

Drove off to the funeral. Told Little Fayoumis that it was time for being polite and quiet. He was still trying to play with Mommy when Mommy was less than playful. Marx was stroking her hair; LF tried to play with it. She objected. I started digressing about permissions for hair-playing: Marx gets to do that with her, since he's her boyfriend. Yakky gets to play with my hair because he's my boyfriend. Darkside gets to play with my hair because he's my Darkside; but I don't get to play with Darkside's hair, and he doesn't want to play with my hair, because I'm not his girlfriend.

The funeral reception/viewing started at two, and services started at four. Jewel was there, and handed Little Fayoumis a rose to put on his uncle's body. I walked with him and we put it down together. Then we looked at the rocket photos, and I pointed out the cool stuff. Figured that the best way for a six-year-old to honor the memory of the sort of uncle that you see at Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter and the other family gathering times, but not much outside of that, is for the kid to want to start shooting off rockets with cameras in too. Faith of a child: I am sure that Little Fayoumis knows beyond all doubt that his uncle is shooting off rockets in the Summerlands. And Hawk's there too. "What's loved... lives."

It was not easy for votania. He was there for her all throughout her childhood. marxdarx stayed with her while I kept an eye on Little Fayoumis. That Woman showed up, and held the widow a lot. After a while, LF went with Grandpa to pick up Great-Grandma, and I stayed.

I felt called to stay nearish the cousin who'd given Little Fayoumis hot_chocolate, the son of the deceased. Nobody's shields are in the best shape under those conditions, and I figured he could use the support; I'd been putting extra into mine for a while, and had enough to share.

The service eventually did start. We stuck close together: Little Fayoumis between Marx and Mommy, me next to votania. There was rather too much Jesus for the pagans in the audience. I meditated instead, and was very careful to keep enough body awareness to not fall over or do anything unseemly with my face, though my eyes were very closed to go with the buzzing in the top of my head, and I did harbor amusement at the thought that I might accidentally get to my feet, fall over, or begin speaking in languages that not even I know.

I missed my moment to speak about him. I know the words were heard anyway... but it would have been nice to say them aloud. No one did read "High Flight", which I regretted; that would have closed off the ceremony perfectly. It was in the cards, though. The pastor-person read aloud things people had emailed in, and closed off with votania's listing of things about her uncle. She is, by far, a better writer than the pastor, though the pastor may have had better delivery.

I wrapped my arms around her for a while as that was read.

The service ended.

There was another young woman there in all black. This wasn't unusual at a funeral, but there is a way that people who wear black wear it that people who wear unrelievéd black for an occasion do not; she wore black the way one wears it every day. She was with a young man with a very familiar-shaped necklace... ping!

The groups split up and people went this way and that. I swapped out votania's soggy handkerchief with a fresh one from my purse; I'd brought extra. Grandpa drove Great-Grandma back to her nursing home apartment, with votania, marxdarx, and Little Fayoumis in tow. I went with Grandma and so forth to the gathering.

I tried to find a corner and read my book. I got something to eat. The kids and dogs did not mix well. One of the kids, a tiny tot named Michael, very blond and very into everything, wanted to feed the doggies. The doggies were in a pen in the back yard, where the trampoline was, and were very barky and loud and big and jumpy. I was not sanguine about them and the kids, but it was Not My Responsibility. I found another corner, and made myself known to the other openly pagan guy. After a long while, the rest of the Temple showed up, and we reconvened.

They kept an eye on Little Fayoumis. I found the turtle-giving cousin in the room with the computer and planted myself in conversation with him. I felt the unmistakable (and strengthening) twinges of the healing attraction, and got the expected jolt when our hands brushed while leaning against the foot of the bed as we watched Jewel play games online.

That Woman came in and commandeered the computer, over her daughter's protests. Evidently That Woman needs glasses (and somehow fails to wear them, or perhaps even have them.) Everybody else scrammed out of the bedroom, as she carries unrestful vibes.

The rest of the Temple decided that the trampoline was the thing. Little Fayoumis wanted to play on it, but one look out the back door at the loose dogs convinced him that the safest course of action was to take off like a rogue model rocket and shoot through the house out the front door and halfway into the neighbors' yard. I noticed the second time, and caught him, and we escorted him safely through the dogs to the trampoline.

Jewel was already on the trampoline, and queening over everyone else. Marx and Little Fayoumis got on, and Votania made unhappy noises about the skirt she was wearing (I'd let her borrow my pretty velvet skirt and sparkly shirt) and the impracticality of trampolining in that. "I'm not going to swap with you!" I declared, and went off to spend more time inside.

I came back outside within five minutes and hauled her off to the bathroom to swap out my pants for the skirt she was borrowing. She secured the pants with her brooch, and happy trampoline fun was had by most. Jewel started to get rude, and I wandered off to talk to the turtle cousin again.


The gathering wound down. I exchanged email addresses with the turtle cousin, who needs the exact schooling in tact that Darkside also lacks. One does not usually express one's surprise that one's very skinny cousin can exchange clothing with her plump roommate and have a good fit; one may feel it, but one does not give voice to it. I chose amusement, as it wasn't worded for offense.

Everyone was on edge by the time we got home. But -- home. Over. Cats. Beads. Hugs. Ice cream. Bed.
  • Current Mood
    worn
lonely, spock

that scary feeling

...I shouldn't feel so lonely when Darkside mentions that he's going out and having fun with other friends. Especially when he doesn't get to see these friends any more often than twice a year. I wouldn't feel so bad if he and I did that sort of thing regularly... but we don't.

I'm not very good at organizing 'go out and have fun' events, and Darkside's not very good at it either. I'm great at organizing 'stay in and have fun' things. He's not very good at having time in his schedule for stuff. Logically, I know that he has and does reorganize his schedule for stuff that I plan -- the Halloween thing, for example: he shuffled his schedule so he could stay way late. And he had fun.

I just don't get to see him enough. So I wind up feeling hurt when other people get to spend time with him and I don't, even though on the whole I spend more time with him than most people do. It's just not enough.
running, bomb tech

Family

Marx and Little Fayoumis are back from Marx's mom's, where they spend the day yesterday and then the night. Votania's at work.

Ah yes...

Happy Birthday, marxdarx!

He got a backpack and at least one game. votania will be making lemon-meringue pie, which is something that all the adults can agree upon as Very Very Good.
running, bomb tech

Again:

Mood just crashed. LF interrupted while I was looking for some paper.

No paper to draw on, no real drawing paper but Marx's, in the house.

Can't ask for paper. Must draw. Can't.
running, bomb tech

(no subject)

...everybody doing art stuff around me inspires me, too. But I know anything I do will be insipid, or just fappage...
running, bomb tech

Paper

It's not about the art. I know my capabilities. I have been a good artist before, excellent for a high school student, and I can be again, after I get my hands accustomed to laying out in line and color what I feel and see.

That post was self-pity, no more and no less, which is why the comment was deleted without response. When I'm in a mental place where a child interrupting me can shut me down and send me into my room with the door locked, something's not right.

votania's relayed comment about the Temple's energy sounded like an accusation, in that mindframe. I personally haven't been cleansing the Temple as a whole. I personally have only been trying to keep my room clean and happy, keep the Temple physically clean. Never mind the "household happiness" candles I have been burning. They obviously haven't been doing anything...

I feel guilty for having taken yesterday off and not cleaned like hell in everyone's absence, now. I could have. I should have. I didn't.

So I feel like I suck.


...I'm leaving comments on. Comments that are of the "It's not so bad as it seems... you can do this!! <3 I know you can!!!" nature, especially with the helpful advice, by people who don't know this side of me well... they will probably wind up deleted.

Marah's out. Trust me, you don't want her replying to those...
running, bomb tech

And yes.

I am aware of the capabilities of pencil/plain paper. That is not what is in my head right now. I do not choose to pound screws with a hammer.
running, bomb tech

Door open

The door to my room is open. Lights are on inside. I am having a sandwich.