Yay brain-streams and random, useless, information! It could save your life, possibly your soul…

Okay, no.  I am fairly certain that it will do your soul rather a lack of good.  You might have to give some back for thinking in such retrograde patterns.  Well, you do give your sanity for it.  I would describe it as a randomly scratched record, playing over and over and then skipping to other parts at random.  Maybe the bits you hear repeated and the skipping from one part to the next will ultimately make sense…then again, maybe you are doomed, cursed with the repetition and free-floating random connections that never make any sense at all, but I believe in entropy.

You know that feeling when the cumulative thoughts in your mind seem to be those of banal, trite, and completely meaningless trivia?  I’ve amassed an awesome collection.  In fact, it seems to be what takes up most of the residence of my brain anymore, and has paved the way for many a social WTF moment.  You know, where everyone just stares, and someone might play the cricket noise on their ipod for you?  Though, every now and again, I am pleasantly, over the moon about one of those bits of information becoming salient!  Like for this last paper!  Yay!  I am not as stoopid as I felt…or at least, I have a randomly good idea.

Phew.  So, my advice is to hold on tight to all of that useless knowledge, for you never know when it might come in handy, or change your life, or change the way other people see you (hopefully in a good way).  Thanks to my skeptical interest in the paranormal, and my brain’s ability to wander freely while I write at a too long paper in a monotonous tapping-fashion, I finally have a rather fresh and interesting word to apply to literature: “Matrixing.”  You know, when the reader pieces together and infers patterns that aren’t necessarily present, and decides the story is what they think it is, rather than what it is?  Or, as like when you think you see Jesus or Elvis on your toast?  Well, that’s as much as I will divulge here and now.  I just wanted to get the word out, so if you hear anybody use it that way, I want it to be known that I used it first!

Ha!  I have brain!

Pru

She loves them so much…

I consider Tillie to be my daemon, or familiar, if you will.  We have always understood one another with alarming clarity.  She never complained about the babies, in fact, she took to them right away, and well, you can see for yourself 

The problem is that she is so obsessed with me and now with the boys, that she has fits if we leave the house without her.  Today, I am highly disappointed, as she did the doggiest thing she has ever done in her entire life.  She got into the diapers.  After almost two years of filthy diapers within her reach, she chose to eat them this evening.  She waited until after we got home from a run to the park…just so I could see the damage and clean it up.

I scolded her, and for the next thirty minutes or so, all I heard was stereo repetitions of nearly what I had said to her.  Now, she won’t speak to me or the boys.  She always keeps me company no matter what is going on, but especially if I am in my office writing.  Her place is right next to me…until tonight.  I suppose her absence is meant to be my second message of the evening, but I still get the little sicky feelings if I think about what I cleaned up, or rather, what she ate.

Speaking of cleaning up, I just saw an ad for a television or computer monitor (if it was a computer monitor, it was certainly large enough to be a sizable TV screen), that is a touch-screen.  Are they kidding?  Who, amongst even those of you unlucky enough to lack the thirlls of OCD, would purchase such a thing?!  How many times a day would one have to clean that?  No thank you.  Keep your sticky paws and little fingerprints off of my screens.  It just seems such a ludicrous idea.  Technology for the sake of fashion?  Tsk tsk.

Ugh.

Pru

Our genes are too tight to breathe in!

In the grand scheme of things, I can’t say that my genes are particularly bad.  Hell, my genes are GREAT!  I come from a long line of fabulous people.  But we have some slight malfunctions, none of which am I embarrassed about, or unable to speak of.  I embrace them all, each and every problem. 

I am pretty sure that Finn is my child: bad attitude, smarmy, needy, willful, and totally determined.  But Liam?  Be honest, we’ve all wondered where that future poetic fraternity boy came from.  He looks like a juvenile superhero.  He smiles, and the sun comes out, and Finn and I get irritated.  No, really, you can’t help but love the guy…he’s just so…uh…squishable and lovable.  After a brush with some breathing issues, I finally have proof the child is my own.

I’ve been watching him for a while now, as I understand it is a parent’s job to do, and I can feel his breathlessness after he runs around the yard.  I know that coughing; that often futile attempt to catch one’s breath while still running (not even having to run very far or fast), and I have long figured that he has inherited at least one trait from me–the “Kennedy Black-lung!” 

As a rule, I don’t take care of my own asthma.  Taking care of something that poses a lethal threat to you seems like a bad idea.  As a rule, I tend to not know that I can’t breathe until it’s ER time (or I just ignore it).  But with Liam, I could feel it for him.  So, this week, we welcomed this happy fellow (above), into our home. 

I still can’t look at it without first laughing, and then shivering with icky.  When I first spied it I was reminded of those horrible gag-underwear (gag, being exactly what they make me do) that are purchased as gifts for bridal showers.  But when I looked at it again, it took on a much more sinister quality.  To be sure, it totally freaked Liam out.  He would gladly sit and inhale the “clouds” from the tube itself, but add the elephant mask, and it’s a mess of a time chasing him down, calming him down, and getting him to even be near the nebulizer. 

I calmed myself by remembering that Walt and Mrs. Walt have had success in getting Walt Jr. to use one, so it must be something that just takes time.  So, I tried the mask on for him…BIG mistake.  That was apparently WAY scarier than the mask by itself. 

Finn?  He’s my future drug user, apparently.  He’s totally fearless, and will gladly take whatever “medgies” you offer him.  So, at least for now it’s a plus that he will take them, but it sure makes me worry that a storm of issues will be arriving at my doorstep when he turns 12. 

Maybe if I put the mask on the dogs…

Pru

Oh, So Wrong…I MUST SEE IT!!!

Admittedly, it wasn’t until a few months ago that I actually watched “Sweeney Todd”, the movie…  I am rather ashamed to say that, but I will.  It is dark and twisted, fabulously decadent and eerie, and though it may appear to be somewhat out of character for this little Misses, I assure you, I was raised on late night forays beyond the cemetery gates, to wander, contemplate and make charcoal rubbings. 

Being a parent, I feel that I need to shelter the boys from my aesthetics, to some degree.  I like the dark, the spooky, the twisted.  Well, maybe I don’t always like it…but do you have to like every movie, book, or piece of art you see?  No.  They are creations that hopefully spur our minds into considering other thoughts, other avenues of reality and possibly transcendence from our otherwise overcooked, and limp lives.  

I think the human creature is amazing for how absolutely vile, evil, cruel, and disgusting it can be, while at the same time hosting delusions of empathy, cooperation, accountability, etc.  Virtues are not usually the most fully realized of our characteristics…

I had heard a song that I became intrigued by, and followed it…it lead to Repo The Genetic Opera! (I won’t post the site here…you can seek it from a lighter avenue, wherein I cannot be held responsible for the images you might see, or the stomach you may not have.) I was intrigued, and dug further.  Then, I heard an interview with the creators on NPR’s “All Things Considered.”  Hooked before ever knowing who was in the movie, I now understand that it is a dastardly combination of Anthony Head, Sarah Brightman, Alexa Vega, Paul Sorvino, and Paris Hilton?!  GET OUT OF TOWN!  Why wouldn’t I see this movie?!  How did I miss the stage show?!  (Okay, so, motherhood is a fairly good reason).  I can imagine conversations my children will have later: “Dude!  Your mother’s a freak!

The more I see, the more I am intrigued… I can only think of one good reason not to see the movie in all of its dark, grotesque, nightmarish, Gothic, creative overindulgence; the fact that it may never reach a Jacksonville theatre.   

I may sound like a brave little girl, but don’t get me wrong, I am already quite disturbed by the images I have seen and the songs I have heard.  I never imagined Sarah Brightman or Anthony Head in such roles…and yet they work very convincingly, at least for trailers.  I also have to admit that I am a bit put off by the notion that it was set upon with the intent of becoming a “cult classic.”  I’m not really fond of anyone deciding what their work will be from the outset, especially when what they are trying to achieve is a sort of falsified craze.  I am aware that the creators intended the same kind of cult fervor that the Rocky Horror Picture Showenjoyed, but this is far darker, far less kitsch and more “Blech.”  And yet, there is still something seductive about it, and intriguing enough that I keep looking to see if it will come to a city near me…

Of course, one must see the phenomenon for themselves, right?  Maybe I will have another event on my list of “fancy-dress” worthy occasions.  Woooot!

Disturbing, decadent, disgusting, and apparently living permanently amongst my dark places (yeah, there can be a few),

Pru

“Your skills plus my skills: tag-team!”–Nacho

There is a rhythm to everything, a season..turn, turn, turn…wait!  No, I will really concentrate on this one today, no matter how exhausted I am. 

Really, there is a rhythm to everything, like lunar pulls, the influence of Mars ascending over Mercury, or whatever.  Or the boys’ very worst days coinciding with term papers.  The Pirate twins totally know when I have deadlines tailing me.  I don’t have to tell them anything.  They must read it in the increased frequency of my yelling and raging and lapses in attention, or they love me so much that they feel my pain.  Whatever the case, they have been tag-teaming it since they were 7-months old.  They realized that they could effect awesome change if they work together to pull me apart; that they would get more attention, and unfixes my mind from words, if they began coughing, puking, etc. 

After pulling an all-nighter to witness history on Tuesday, I had one solid night of “freak-out” editing, wherein I realized that my papers had been burgled and replaced.  The replacements appearing to have been written by someone with a fondness for the bottle, and a real lack of linguistic comprehension or skill.  So, while rewriting, I figured that at least I had one more good night, on Wednesday, to make edits… 

If those little goblins could sniff out gold like they can sniff out inappropriate timing, I would be a VERY rich woman, and they would have the nanny they dream of; heck, one for each of them (and maybe one for me).  Unfortunately, their skill is in intuiting the worst possible, most stressful moments, and their ability to quickly turn something annoying or inconvenient into a full-on, smack-down of badness.

At 11:30 PM, Wednesday night, I had just gotten to the editing on page 4 of 16 (which needed to be cut down to 12, which is a time-consuming enough process for someone who wants to hold onto anything in the paper, no matter how bad…).  At 11:30, Liam’s cough had progressed from annoyingly insistent, to “Oh my god, you self-absorbed neophytes!  I can’t breath and I am going to die!” 

Racing to the ER in P.J.s, with already mushy brains, I marvelled as my brave little soldier talked up a storm and sang, pitifully, through gasps and coughs.  He was amazed to be in the car at night, and excitedly told me about the “yites fwying”, and ”gamma’s”.  I was worried he might be hallucinating like I was, then my brain phoned in and realized it was the streetlights that looked like they were flying, and we were indeed heading in the same direction as grandma’s house. 

After a 4 hour croup treatment, which mostly consisted of all four of us waiting, holding boys who did not want to be on the hospital bed, or even near it (because both Liam’s chest x-ray, and the breathing torturetreatment took place there).  Holding either a 25 or 28-pounder, or both, and standing up for four hours had the lasting effect of pulling an all-nighter at the gym.  Finally getting home, getting back to my paper, I realized that the thieves had returned while I was out.  Where were all of my great ideas?!  They had been replaced by babble and garble. 

The next day, which was basically the same day, they boys doubled their powers by splitting up.  Finn took the high-way, climbing onto counters, garbage cans; and grabbing at full, hot, coffee pots.  Liam, who appreciates gravity rather a bit more, took the low-way (far away from counter-culture Finn).  He booked it to the furthest corner from Finn and did his mischief there.  They like to keep my brain in a constant state of panic, and are training me for quick decision making…though, I seem to be a poor student.  Having to decide which child is in greater danger is often a very tough call, but needless to say, one that necessitates some quick thinkin’ and fancy footwork.

 Now that the papers have been turned in, they are happily ill, with stuffy noses, coughs, and they are sleeping away…hours and hours.  Go figure. 

Isn’t it Miller-Time yet?

Pru