16 June 2004

Sorry for never freakin' updating... It's not that nothing is happening. Usually, it's that lots and lots and lots of things are happening, and usually during the computer center's business hours. Growl.

So... I graduated last week. I sat next to Louise and we clapped for all the people with strange names. Graduations are never really that interesting, and frankly, I think I've had to attend too many of them already. At my high school graduation, the valedictorian -- a bright girl with no brains, if you know what I mean -- gave a speech about how, at the end of the world, we should all band together with the knowledge we acquired at Johnson City High School. Some shit like that. It was depressing and excessively morbid.

At my brother's high school graduation, the last girl in line to receive her diploma was a cheerleader. Her name was Zyleska, or Zyprexa, or Zyngkowski, or something like that, so she knew she'd be last. And she did a triple back flip down the aisle to receive her diploma. Only, she wasn't wearing any underwear. Actually, she wasn't wearing anything but her gown. That girl was awesome. Plus, she was kinda fat, which made it even better. That was the best graduation I have ever been to. All the rest have always been so solemn and depressing.

So, I'm a graduate now, with my B.A. in liberal arts. Nothing that's going to get me a million dollars a year and a sportscar, but that's fine. That's not really the point. The point is that I can now send my former math teacher, Mrs. Jane Kakusian, an "I-told-you-so" card. But that's not really the point, either. The point has something to do with having learned a lot of stuff... Here are some of the things I learned:

* ...how to do calligraphy and use a fountain pen

* ...the difference between "qualitative" and "quantitative," and how to use them in a sentence to make oneself sound smarter.

* ...how to identify passive voice without really thinking about it, and how to correct it before it's even written down (thank you, Your Royal Analness, Frederica Bowcutt; I like you anyway...)

* ...that it makes one smarter to write, and that it makes writers dumber when all they do is read...

* ...that one's diet suffers severely when one's town has a low population of Old World Italians in it...

* ...that it's no big deal if somebody on the bus happens to be reading the same book as you, and that it doesn't mean you should let him get you drunk and seduce you.

* ...that I've learned more on my own than I have ever, ever learned from a teacher (thank you, David Rutledge, Bill Arney, and Charles Pailthorp)

* ...that it's not really so scary to give a presentation, as long as I've written it myself; I trust my words more than I distrust any audience, and so I simply let the words carry me

* ...how to use the word "antidisestablishmentarianist" in a sentence. Correctly. I already knew how to spell it though.

* ...that the structures of the English language are basically just music and that if I can't express WHY a grammar rule exists, I can sort of make up an answer and relate it to something musical.

* ...never put an apostrophe in "CDs" (thank you, Bill Ransom)

* ...there is no possible way to teach people to be good writers. Why? Because it can't be taught, it can only be learned. Otherwise, the writer doesn't "own" it.

* ...that the world is much more organized than I am, and it therefore has a lot of power to fuck me over, but only if I let it.

* ...that I can get myself out of freaking anything so long as I've got a pen and a piece of paper, and that NOBODY fucks Helena Thomas over, unless she's sleeping or something. (thank you, Thurston County court system, and Washington State law, and Northwest Resources counselors...)

* ...that it can always get worse, even when it seems like it can't...

* ...that Western medicine (and Western psychiatry) is NOT even close to being an exact science, and that if one treats it as such, she's being a fucking moron.

* ...twenty pages a day is pretty fucking good, and if anybody says otherwise, they don't get to read them.

* ...anarchists are SOOOOOO fun!!! Especially the ones with all the safety pins. They generally listen to a lot of shitty music, though, and something really should be done about that.

* ...that I still really don't like poetry, but at least I kinda know why other people like it. Oh yeah, and I can actually write some decent poems, but only if I pretend I'm crazy. Like, "should-be-locked-up" crazy, not just typical Helena-ish, "the-white-coats-can't-catch-me" crazy. And the only good poems I've ever written are all about Norman. I don't know why.

* ...that it really, really impresses people if you know the Greek alphabet and a little bit of basic etymology...

* ...that music isn't an artform and that Karl Stockhausen IS actually God. (Yeah, yeah, you wouldn't THINK so, but I sort of accidentally proved those things, I think, in one of my last papers...)

* ...that one must ALWAYS be diligent when ordering decaf coffee at the Spar, or one's waitress will give her regular, and she will spend the entire night finding loopholes in Descartes' "Meditations," and jumping rope at 3 AM.

* ...the black hairband ALWAYS goes on the outside of the doorknob, not the inside, or one's room-mate will not knock before entering, and one will never live down whatever it is one should have been using the hairband for.

* ...Central Europe must be a REALLY wacky place...

* ...if a boy in a bar tells you he loves jazz and doesn't know who Miles Davis is, he's probably just trying to pick you up. Furthermore, "I'm a fireman" is a lame pick-up. Seems like everybody's a fireman sometime in their lives. Like, everybody. Really, everybody.

* ...that I'm actually pretty fucking smart; I just don't test well because I hate sitting in one place and figuring stuff out. I'd rather wander around and figure stuff out.

* ...that "in all things, you must follow your heart." As cheesy as that is. And that "it never really does end." I knew those things before, but I didn't really believe them.

* ...there is a difference between a pine tree and an evergreen tree, although this difference really shouldn't matter except to botanical snobs. Furthermore, people waste far too much energy on hating blackberries.

* ...ERLEICHDA ERLEICHDA ERLEICHDA -- there is NO reason to worry about 99% of the things I worry about. Almost everything ends up okay eventually, and that the biggest crises are usually pretty freaking stupid.

* * * * * * * * * * *

That's some of the stuff I learned in college.

I can also diagram a sentence, and if you give me a random word from a medical dictionary, I can usually pick it apart at the roots and figure out what it means. I can also read the DSM-IV without a study guide. And am more convincing in a court of law than a person with a Master's degree and a few dozen years of experience. And I can explain how ALL punctuation works in under twenty minutes, and you will understand perfectly, even if you never got it before. Oh yeah, and I know the difference between a dangling modifier and a dangling participle. There is a difference, sort of.

These are a few dorky things I'm really sort of proud of. For these things, I got my degree.

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But it's really just a stupid piece of paper. I don't care that much about the degree. I'd rather just have the stuff I listed above. I'd rather have MORE of it than a certification saying I know all that crap.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Things have been good. Really, really very good.

I brought my family to Seattle on Sunday, and we met up with Neil, and the six of us stood at the entrance to the Pike Place Market, laughing our asses off as some jackass in rubber pants flung a sixty-pound fish at another guy in rubber pants. Usually I'm not one for slapstick humor, but this was just fantastic. And Neil and my family mixed pretty well; within ten minutes of re-meeting one another, my brother (an EMT), was explaining to Neil the exact sound produced when one pulls a screwdriver out of the brain of a corpse. If that ain't an indication of friendship and solidarity, I don't know what is. That's just one step short of a welcome into the family.

(The actual welcoming process involves asking you to cope with two Pomeranians in a small apartment during a thunderstorm with the electricity out... Nobody's ever really made it that far, although two or three people have passed the most important criteria: must be willing to spit off the tops of parking garages for no special reason, play in rainstorms, and to eat our cooking... My family's pretty strange. It takes a really special sort... You should see our Christmases...)

Anyway, it was a lovely day... Just when I keep thinking my life can't get any better (and that's kind of a weird thing for a homeless girl to be thinking), it does...

...except for the Chinese food. The Chinese food was really good, but I think it poisoned me. No more MSG for me, ever. Fuck, and it was good, too. I woke up with the worst case of morning sickness I have ever had. I almost had to get off a bus and throw up. But I thought about Mount Rainier instead. Mount Rainier would never throw up. Well... at least it wouldn't do it on a King County Metro bus. Well, not specifically on a King County Metro bus... Tacoma busses, probably...

I am thirteen and a half weeks pregnant now. I think I can feel him sometimes when I'm lying very still. I think he is very, very hyper. I think he is also very, very beautiful. Squishy, but I figure he'll outgrow that quickly enough. I am starting to "show" a little bit, even this early. It's easy to tell because I'm scrawny, and I suddenly have this miniature roll of fat all in one place. It's not really fat, though, because it doesn't squish when I pinch it. And I don't fit a C-cup anymore, although I cannot be bothered with bras anyway. Fuck that shit.

I think the baby will be a boy. Maybe not, but I'm going to use the masculine pronouns for another four or five weeks when they do the ultrasound. Other than the Chinese food thing, I am very healthy, so they won't schedule me for an ultrasound yet. I would really enjoy feigning a complication in order to get some baby pictures, but that seems like something of a jinx. I will have to wait. And the baby will have to wait. He's going to be strong and healthy, I think. I love him so much...

I'm going to teach him how to spit off the tops of parking garages.

And I'm going to make him even stronger and healthier by cooking Italian at least once a month.

And I won't make him pass the Pomeranian test until he's at least sixteen. He'll get honorary family membership at least until then. *grin*

And I'm going to make sure he's surrounded with the most loving people I can find. Especially the quirky ones, because quirky ones are more fun. And anyways, gahd knows he'll be completely eccentric if his DNA has anything to say about it. Eccentric youngsters need eccentric role models.

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I have to go; I have an appointment soon...

~Helena*