on a side note, i scored 20 on the autism quotient... normal adults are about 16, and one is considered 'autistic' after 28. perhaps i am a highly-functioning asperger's? or perhaps i am simply self-contained to a fault.
it's nearly impossible for me to ask people for help. so... i rarely do. the world provides, after all. a shitty day will always get better. moods evolve. situations remedy themselves whether i fret about them or not. vive l'indifference!
*
my grandmother finally died. the service was yesterday. it was held at the national cemetery in the fucking hinterlands outside of auburn. it was freezing cold and pouring rain and i drove the entire way there and back UNABLE TO SEE out of my fogged, wiperless windows. my radio wasn't audible over the roar of the engine so i had my headphones in... hunched over the steering wheel in a hypothermic terror, hoping i don't die and cursing my laziness about getting the fucking wipers fixed. i snivel about how much it'll cost but i spent the same amount, if not a bit more, on the ticket to iceland. my priorities are warped. i have been fucking lucky that i haven't yet killed anything, anyone, or myself.
i hate the south sound, anyhow. i get farther than renton and uneasiness sets in. i spent the most miserable times of my life there. i leave king county and it's as though someone's squashing my trachea.
the service was outside, in 46 degree rain. attending: my mother; my other grandmother; my uncle bill and his bitch wife who, as usual, refused to acknowledge me or anyone else there (i don't call people bitches, and really mean it, very often, but she's a wholly unpleasant human being); my uncle karl; and my aunt liz. i was the only grandchild present. we sat under a gazebo-thing as the rain fell. bill said some nice things about my grandmother. a soldier presented karl with a folded american flag. and then we watched oma's ashes join my grandfather's in his veteran's cubby.
her name will be added in the next few weeks.
my mother commented on the stately hearse that transported oma's 9" square box of ashes from the funeral home in tacoma. "they came all this way with a box" she sighed. "oh, it cost plenty."
i don't know how i ended up being in the fucking middle of this picture- the memorial crasher!- or how it takes seeing a photograph to realize how fucking giant the rest of the haugs are. granted, my mother and liz were in heels. my mother looks surly.
i have been composing memories of my parents in my head for, shit, years- intending to write them down before i CAN'T. so on monday, while it was stormy and thuddingly slow at the massage job, i did. i forgot to give the cards to my mother until we were both on the freeway. i called her on my phone and told her to pull over. i gave her the cards on the side of hwy 18 as semi trucks roared by and rain sprayed. i hugged her and told her i loved her. and i merged back onto the freeway and- immediately began to worry. what if she was unable to merge? why did i endanger her life? what if my insisting she pulled over resulted in her and my grandmother, who was riding with her, getting killed? i couldn't see them through my useless back window. i drove back to seattle essentially having a panic attack. this sounds so fucking stupid now. my brain was spiralling, thinking of every awful thing i've ever done, how selfish i fucking am to HAVE to give those to her RIGHT THEN. the weather was absolutely awful- the sky was dusky dark at 3pm and i couldn't see the seattle skyline even when i was driving right past it. i sent her a text- "let me know when you get home" and didn't hear anything until several hours after i arrived at work that night.
*
everything, of course, was fine.
she's waiting to read the cards until she and my father are in las vegas, where they'll be this weekend, tra-la, because life goes on and my parents are the kinds of people who decide to go to las vegas for a weekend, and i don't need to give myself a fucking ulcer, ever, and everything always works out- even in the rare moments when, on first impression, it doesn't.
*
my fear scared me. it was so fucking automatic to imagine everything in my life disintegrating around me. i have felt very lonely lately. there are people around and friends i can emotionally vomit on, but there's still something missing. i feel like a drug addict who can't get the drug i'm addicted to so i settle for a substitute- like smoking a vile menthol when i really want a camel. or methadone instead of heroin. or kissing instead of sex.
this is the time of my 'swing' when, if i hadn't already, i would book a trip or get a fucking tattoo, because i feel like i need to do something dramatic to distract me from my own mind.
*
the past week:
-insane massage from o. he does a lot of structural work- his is not a relaxing massage. he cranked on my radius-ulna until i felt nauseous. afterwards i was very jittery- my hands were shaking like i'd overdosed on caffeine. "you're letting go of a lot of negative energy" c said. "your body's been holding onto a lot." i wince at the industry-isms but it was probably true.
-i picked up a shift there today and saw 5 clients in 5 hours. i tried a new aromatherapy combination: orange and fennel. it was groovy as hell until i spilled spearmint oil and caused everyone there to develop a headache.
-dying animals. owners who don't want to let go. drain-circling. i love my coworkers. i work with no one stupid enough to say "oh come on, guys! maybe he can make it!" everyone there is realistic and compassionate and disgusted with owners who prove they are neither by putting their pets through fucking hell.
-bleu cheese stuffed dates, wrapped in pancetta and drizzled with a balsamic reduction. "it's like having sex with christmas!" i blurted.
-lavender.
-feeling exhausted and bedraggled and still having the checkout guy look at me and say "oh, HI... how are you?"
-a care package of skulls, chicken feet, apidocere, a crime-watch newspaper, and a pulp magazine.
-almond-stuffed green olives as part of a balanced breakfast.
last week we made meze. among other things. i've lived at my lair for over four years and it was the first time i'd had more than one person over at a time. i felt like a fucking puppy. it was exciting.
it's nice when everyone leaves, too. that's the borderline-asperger's talking, ha ha.
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