Since I'm now awake... Might as well blog right? RIGHT?!?! That's what I thought... Yes.. So today's blog is mainly focused around weddings! I have a wedding approaching in less than 50 days, and lemme tell ya, it's stressful! There are so many things to do and people asking me so many questions I have no idea how to answer them.
Q:"What color table runners would you like?"
A:"what's a table runner? And why are people running on tables at a wedding?"
Q:"Are you guys having a unity candle?"
A:"What the frak is a unity candle."
Q:"What shade of purple would you prefer? More of a auberginey or a bluebellish purple?"
A:"Subtitles please?"
Q:"what are you going to use to make your boobs look more plump?"
A:"Mother nature."
Q:"What about those chicken cutlet things?"
A:"I'm not sticking chicken down my bra!!!"
These are just a few of the real life situations I've had happen. The fact of the matter is, I'm just not that girly. I can't tell the difference between table runners and aisle runners. ( I was also very concerned people would be running in the aisles as well.) while I'm incredibly excited about my wedding and can't wait to start my life with my best friend.... I didn't think it would entail learning about 50 shades of purple!
On another wedding related note, Andrew and I decided a sappy honeymoon just wasn't for us. Instead we are going to the Fanboy Expo in Knoxville, KY. I'm really excited about thud because Lando Calrissian, Boba Fett, and Admiral Ackbar will all be in the same room together, annnndddd I can't wait to meet them! Andrew also agreed to do a cosplay with me. We are going as the 9th incarnation of the Doctor and his Rose. Andrew scarily looks like he could be the 9th Doctors twin, so the nerd in me is very, very pleased.
Till next time!
Monday, April 1, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Russian Roulette... With words. (I lied.)
So the impending death of my grandmother has brought about a lot of other thoughts. Most of them are rather unpleasant. If you have a weak stomach or are prone to feelings of rage, I'd hesitate in continuing to read.
My mother, if you can call her that, is an absolute in the terribleness of humanity. To truly unravel this tale, we will have to start when I was sixteen. Now for most teenagers this was the usual time of zits, break-ups, and worrying about grades.. I was worrying about covering up the bruises left on me from the night before. Mother was the mom everyone wanted, she cooked amazing foods for dinner, cleaned up after us, and made sure we always had what we wanted, until one day it seemed she just snapped. I had attended one of the many punk rock shows that night and was on my way home. My curfew was midnight and I always followed it, but tonight there was more traffic than usual and I didn't make it home till 12:05 at night. Normal circumstances, this shouldn't have been an issue. I came in quietly as not to wake my little sister up. Walked into my bathroom to begin removing my make-up and get ready for bed. I'll never be able to forget what happened next. A hand reached in through the door and grabbed the back of my hair and smashed my face into the adjacent wall. It hurt. Bad. Then the hand drug me by my hair into our kitchen pulled me up to meet its face. It was mother dearest. She proceeded to punch my face till I could feel blood from my lips and nose.
"Why the fuck are you so late?" She yelled.
At this point my dad and sister woke up and came running. My sisters face is burned into my memory. No eleven year old should see things like this.
Dad commanded her to stop what she was doing, and she did. I meekly went to my room. I couldn't even cry the shock of what had just taken place had paralyzed me.
I wish I could say that was where it ended... But it didn't. For the next two years I lived in constant fear that the hand would appear again. And it did. Many times, so many times in fact I began to not feel the blows and would just take it. I became so reclusive all I would do is sit in my room on the floor and stare off into space wondering if the nightmare would end.
Thankfully, my mother shifted her attention from me to men other than my father and finally left us. We all rejoiced in this. We have never looked back.
Naturally, last year I tried to fix things between my mother and I.. Only to be let down, and crushed again, this time emotionally. Needless to say she's been cut from my life. I have a family now, I'll be damned if evil will ever touch it.
I have so many questions that will never be answered. Why would she want to harm something she made. Labored over. I look into my own daughters faces and can't bring myself to even imagine how she could hurt me.
It feels good to exorcise these demons.
My mother, if you can call her that, is an absolute in the terribleness of humanity. To truly unravel this tale, we will have to start when I was sixteen. Now for most teenagers this was the usual time of zits, break-ups, and worrying about grades.. I was worrying about covering up the bruises left on me from the night before. Mother was the mom everyone wanted, she cooked amazing foods for dinner, cleaned up after us, and made sure we always had what we wanted, until one day it seemed she just snapped. I had attended one of the many punk rock shows that night and was on my way home. My curfew was midnight and I always followed it, but tonight there was more traffic than usual and I didn't make it home till 12:05 at night. Normal circumstances, this shouldn't have been an issue. I came in quietly as not to wake my little sister up. Walked into my bathroom to begin removing my make-up and get ready for bed. I'll never be able to forget what happened next. A hand reached in through the door and grabbed the back of my hair and smashed my face into the adjacent wall. It hurt. Bad. Then the hand drug me by my hair into our kitchen pulled me up to meet its face. It was mother dearest. She proceeded to punch my face till I could feel blood from my lips and nose.
"Why the fuck are you so late?" She yelled.
At this point my dad and sister woke up and came running. My sisters face is burned into my memory. No eleven year old should see things like this.
Dad commanded her to stop what she was doing, and she did. I meekly went to my room. I couldn't even cry the shock of what had just taken place had paralyzed me.
I wish I could say that was where it ended... But it didn't. For the next two years I lived in constant fear that the hand would appear again. And it did. Many times, so many times in fact I began to not feel the blows and would just take it. I became so reclusive all I would do is sit in my room on the floor and stare off into space wondering if the nightmare would end.
Thankfully, my mother shifted her attention from me to men other than my father and finally left us. We all rejoiced in this. We have never looked back.
Naturally, last year I tried to fix things between my mother and I.. Only to be let down, and crushed again, this time emotionally. Needless to say she's been cut from my life. I have a family now, I'll be damned if evil will ever touch it.
I have so many questions that will never be answered. Why would she want to harm something she made. Labored over. I look into my own daughters faces and can't bring myself to even imagine how she could hurt me.
It feels good to exorcise these demons.
The first... Of many.
It's a late night. I'm aware of this, but I can't sleep. I'm away from the people that matter the most to me for the night to care for another person. That person is my Grandmother, and she means mo to me than even words can express. She is dying. Her battle with cancer began three years ago, and I will never forget that phone call.
"I have cancer, Heather. Don't you worry about me though, the doctors will make it go away."
I felt the blood rush to my fingers. And my vision seemed to blur and rush like the scene from Jaws when the first attack happens. I had to sit down. That feeling happened again 3 weeks ago when I recieved the call nobody ever wants to get.
"Granny is in the hospital," my little sister said "you need to get here now."
When I arrived at PCH I rushed into her room only to stop as soon as I could see her. It was the face of death that I saw. Her jaw was laying slack and her breathing in ragged inhalations. I knew we wouldn't have long. I took her hand and in her confusion she looked up at me and told me it would be ok. I knew in my heart it wouldn't. I searched for words to say, but what do you say to the one person in your life that cared for you unconditionally, supported you when no one else would, and you knew for a fact this person loved you with their whole being? What words would come out to capture that?
"I love you." I said as I choked back tears to not frighten her.
It's never easy to look at someone you love and tell them everything is fine when you know years, much less months, are left to hold their hands. It keeps me up at night. I check my phone constantly to see if I've gotten that dreaded call that she's gone yet. I love her. Always will.
In other news, this weekend I was privileged to meet my hero Bruce Campbell. Lemme tell you, he lives up to every bit of his hype. He was enigmatic, charming, and dare I say, dashing. He touched my boobs. (I'm so ok with that its scary.) I also got to meet Kane Hodder.. Now this guy is fucking incredible. He was down to earth and kind. He also choked the shit out of me. (I was also incredibly to ok with that.) The true highlight of my adventure, however, was meeting the guy who played the original Godzilla. If you really know me you know there are three things I really love : Food, Godzilla, and Wrestling. Nakajima was sweet, although I couldn't understand what he was saying. I really lost it afterwards though and cried from the gravity of finally meeting the person/monster that began my love affair with horror and monster movies. Life just doesn't get sweeter than that.
For now, I can't think of anything else I need off my chest, but I'm sure tomorrow ill have more to say, and this time it will be less of a downer. I promise. In case I don't, though, refer back to the Doctors first rule. I'll use that as my excuse. (The Doctor lies.)
"I have cancer, Heather. Don't you worry about me though, the doctors will make it go away."
I felt the blood rush to my fingers. And my vision seemed to blur and rush like the scene from Jaws when the first attack happens. I had to sit down. That feeling happened again 3 weeks ago when I recieved the call nobody ever wants to get.
"Granny is in the hospital," my little sister said "you need to get here now."
When I arrived at PCH I rushed into her room only to stop as soon as I could see her. It was the face of death that I saw. Her jaw was laying slack and her breathing in ragged inhalations. I knew we wouldn't have long. I took her hand and in her confusion she looked up at me and told me it would be ok. I knew in my heart it wouldn't. I searched for words to say, but what do you say to the one person in your life that cared for you unconditionally, supported you when no one else would, and you knew for a fact this person loved you with their whole being? What words would come out to capture that?
"I love you." I said as I choked back tears to not frighten her.
It's never easy to look at someone you love and tell them everything is fine when you know years, much less months, are left to hold their hands. It keeps me up at night. I check my phone constantly to see if I've gotten that dreaded call that she's gone yet. I love her. Always will.
In other news, this weekend I was privileged to meet my hero Bruce Campbell. Lemme tell you, he lives up to every bit of his hype. He was enigmatic, charming, and dare I say, dashing. He touched my boobs. (I'm so ok with that its scary.) I also got to meet Kane Hodder.. Now this guy is fucking incredible. He was down to earth and kind. He also choked the shit out of me. (I was also incredibly to ok with that.) The true highlight of my adventure, however, was meeting the guy who played the original Godzilla. If you really know me you know there are three things I really love : Food, Godzilla, and Wrestling. Nakajima was sweet, although I couldn't understand what he was saying. I really lost it afterwards though and cried from the gravity of finally meeting the person/monster that began my love affair with horror and monster movies. Life just doesn't get sweeter than that.
For now, I can't think of anything else I need off my chest, but I'm sure tomorrow ill have more to say, and this time it will be less of a downer. I promise. In case I don't, though, refer back to the Doctors first rule. I'll use that as my excuse. (The Doctor lies.)
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