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Listening to: From the Choirgirl Hotel. Not for long, though... it's not really matching my mood quite like I was expecting it too.
Currently Reading: Just barely started Jonathan Lethem's Gun, With Occasional Music. Kind of saving it for the train, as well as a stack of others (both fiction and non). Also, I recently read Laurie Notaro's I Love Everybody (and Other Atrocious Lies): True Tales of a Loudmouth Girl (again) in like two days, and peed myself laughing. Highly recommended. I also devoured The Broke Diaries by Angela Nissel in, like, a mere few days. Laughed until I peed. Also highly recommended.
Wishing: income. Lots of it. Other than that, life's pretty good.
I couldn't be more right now.
Buy "Civilised Conversation..." Merchandise! Please? All the cool kids are doing it....
Please help me pay for college by purchasing items from Amazon.com through this link!!
11 July 2002 | 11:06 PM
Water, Water, Everywhere...
Okay.
I�ve been trying to design a flow chart to help explain part of today�s (admittedly bitchy) topic, as visual aids tend to increase audience understanding. Unfortunately, it would seem as though the person whom I asked to install Word on my computer gave me a bootleg version or something, so when I get to a really good part, I get the blue screen of death. Enough of that, I decided, we�re just going to do this through words. I hope the magic of my storytelling skills will be sufficient to explain the situation. I apologize for any inconvenience.
Okay.
So, the water at my parents� house sucks. Because they live in a very rural area, they have a well. The water in this area is very mineral- and calcium-rich, and as a result, many of the household fixtures that carry water (showers, sinks and toilets for instance,) often accumulate immense amounts of mineral and calcium deposits, prohibiting water from flowing through to the best of its ability. Instead of a nice, full shower, you may get a handful of random streams. Not always particularly helpful. The fixtures need to be cleaned periodically, but since my parents don�t seem to mind, they don�t really, which is fine. I mean, if there were household maintenance in my own home that I didn�t feel like doing, but could live with the consequences, I guess I wouldn�t do it either, so I can�t really blame them. I like my shower, though. Personal hygiene is a very important part of my life right now, so I feel inclined to perform these little cleanings. It�s a hassle though. The other part about the �hard� water, as it�s called, is my skin and hair. The minerals and calcium really don�t help my psoriasis, dermatitis, and acne, and it seems to encourage my scalp to produce more abundant amounts of hair-oils, so I�ve turned into a scaly, pimply grease-ball of sorts. Not really, but I feel like it, and it�s quite uncomfortable. Because we have a well, the water pressure isn�t always terrific, so sometimes instead of a comfortably powerful shower, you end up with kind of a draggy shower, I guess (there�s no really good way to explain it). These problems lead one to feel hygienically inadequate, especially in high school. And that sort of thing kind of sticks with you, so that�s why I was reluctant to come home for the summer. (That, and the heat.) Additionally, because we draw on ground water, the quality of the water often relies on those who live up the creek from us. The second neighbor up hunts, and he skins his kill, tossing animal refuse in the creek. Our next neighbor (the one between us and him) has run tests on her water, to discover strains of E. coli. Naturally, I�m convinced that at least one member of our household will die of this disease within the next few months. We will bring a wrongful death civil suit against Mr. Hunter, but it may not fly, as it might be difficult to prove that his reckless disposal of animal parts directly contributed to our disease. Seeing as how we knew about the E. coli, we would have had time to switch to bottled water, for instance. But if we contracted the disease before we knew about it, then maybe we could make a few bucks in court. Of course, he probably doesn�t have a bunch of money lying around, and his house probably isn�t worth much. And the level of satisfaction might not be that great, but I guess it would be worth a shot. Anyway.
Since I�ve gone off to college, the level of water in the well has dropped somewhat. It�s just not replenishing at night, as it should. As a result, my family has adopted some guidelines to help conserve water. First, we all must take ultra-fast showers. This is okay with me, as long as I�m not meeting up with someone from high school or anything like that. If I�m just hanging around the house, I can stand to run the risk of being a little stanky. Another rule applies to bathroom use: �go twice, flush once.� I�m pretty sure this isn�t really healthy, and it�s kind of icky, so I�m not really big on the idea. The point is that, our water level isn�t sustaining really well. I don�t know that much about wells, but apparently, there�s some ground perforations at the bottom of the well that are probably clogged. One way to unclog them is to build up pressure with some sort of a gas in the well, to blow them clean. You use dry ice. One puts dry ice in the well, and then shuts it off and lets the dry ice evaporate, building up pressure, blasting out the perforations. My parents were on their way to the nearest dry ice vendor earlier to purchase 100 to 200 pounds of dry ice to put in our well. My step-father is in charge of the project, but he doesn�t seem particularly familiar with the method. Which worries me. So I�m pretty sure that, if he doesn�t die of E. coli first, something will go terribly wrong, and something will explode and kill him, and we will have no water for the rest of our lives because my mother and I know nothing about wells, and the only member of our immediate family who knows anything about wells will be dead because of the deadly explosion; or poisonous gasses will be emitted from the well and smother us all, but no one will know for at least a week, because the canyon will fill with poisonous gasses and smother all the residents, so no one will be in any kind of position to report our tragic deaths because of that of their own. All I know is that something is likely to not go according to plan. At the last minute, however, there was a change of plans, and they decided to inspect some submersion pump or something, which has a whole in it, incidentally, so we may not even have to resort to the scary dry ice scenario. So I�ve done everything I will need to do today that will require water. I�ve showered and brushed my teeth. If something should happen I will drive as quickly as possible to my grandmother�s house (she lives in a city, where the water is ample. She has to pay for it, of course, but the shower is quite luxurious.)
I�m concerned about my mother. More specifically, I�m concerned that my mother does not want me here. Recently, I have noticed a peculiar feeling like my presence is annoying to her, or a burden to her, or something of that sort. Like I�m one more thing she has to take care of. I guess I am, but it�s mutual, so the way I figure, it comes out even, best case scenario. Additionally, I know that she�s having issues coming to terms with my sexual orientation. I�ve tried to bring up the issue at least three times in the past (month and a half?) and she blows it off, like I haven�t said anything. Either she won�t respond, or she�ll respond with as few words as are necessary. Last spring, I emailed her, asking how she was doing with the whole thing. She said that it was really difficult for her, and that she would just need time. I invited her to email me if she wanted to kind of dialogue about it, and that I could provide her with/refer her to some valuable resources, at her request. I also sent her my only copy of Free Your Mind, a book which is critically acclaimed as one of the best references and resources for sexual-minority youth, and their friends and families. I told her via email that I would be mailing the book. I told her via email when I had sent the book. That was early spring. Just this afternoon, I noticed the package, unopened, beneath the endtable next to her loveseat. Unopened. Like she would rather just leave this huge aspect of my personhood taped up in a manila envelope, dusty, under a table. Like she would rather not acknowledge it at all. Like she is trying to hide it from herself. Picture that. Do you have brown eyes? Imagine your brown eyes in an envelope that you sent a few months ago to your parents and they haven�t opened it yet. What does that say to you? Can you see where I am?
Tonight, I asked, �Did you look at that book I sent you?� She shook her head. �Not yet.� I know this must be difficult for her, but it seems to me as though she is making little (if any, giving her the benefit of the doubt) effort at working on this. I�ve told her about the nearest chapter of PFLAG. I�ve sent her the book, and she won�t even look at the cover, read the back, or flip through the pages. I�ve tried to get her to talk about it, but all I get are these little messages like, �I�m going back into my shell now. Please do not disturb me as I retract away and refrain from sharing my thoughts with you and continue to not make an effort to come to terms with the kind of person you are, despite the fact that I say I love you no matter what because I�m your mother.� So I feel like my hands are tied. And that I really don�t want to come home again because this is how uncomfortable things can be. And this is how it was all through high school, which is probably a significant part of why those four years sucked such fat goat scrotum, and why I�ve been on antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds for the past four years.
So there�s my little rant about how I love my mother with all my heart, despite the fact that I�m psychologically itchy.
That exhausted me. And you probably don�t want to read anymore. Sorry for going off. Have a good night, everyone.
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Oh, Whoops. - 10:34 PM , 02 September 2005 In Like Hula-Hoops. - 11:28 PM , 12 April 2005 A - Z - 4:37 AM , 26 March 2005 w00t - 12:15 AM , 25 March 2005 Just Let Her Go. - 12:12 AM , 20 March 2005
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